A Mercenary to Love by Landra Graf – Spotlight and Giveaway

July 20, 2021 By Leave a Comment

Long and Short Reviews welcomes Landra Graf who is celebrating today’s release of A Mercenary to Love, book 4 in the Bad Boys of Space series. Enter to win a fabulous gift package and get a First For Romance Gift Card!

There’s only one thing she wants to steal—his heart.

When computer genius Sampson Morales’ latest security measures fail to prevent the kidnapping of an Allied Planetary Union Ambassador’s child, he has no choice but to track and save the kid himself…especially if he wants to be paid.

Zasha Gustaf believed fighting with the Humans First movement could redeem her mercenary past, but when they use her intel to kidnap an innocent, she starts to have her doubts. Running into the only man she’s ever loved and who’s on the same trail is a sign. She commits to helping Sampson stop this group from sacrificing another blameless person, but she has another motive.

Sampson and Zasha have been down this road before, except last time it led to betrayal and heartache. He can’t trust her, and her attempts at redemption are met with constant rebuke, but when everyone, even the universe, is in danger, relying on each other is the only way forward.

Is a second chance possible for either of them…or will the past repeat itself?

Reader advisory: This book contains scenes of child endangerment, child abandonment, violence and murder.

Enjoy an Excerpt

Whenever the planet Saturn had crossed Sampson’s mind, he’d always believed stepping foot on its surface would involve jail time, or at the very least a spot in front of a tribunal. That he was being welcomed with open arms there, the land of the uppers, via official invitation no less, had made sleep near impossible for the last three solar days. Now, here he traveled among sprawling homes with green grass lawns, ponds of clear water…enough splendor to rattle the nerve endings of any man who’d grown up poor, near starving and covered in filth the majority of the time.

“Pull your mouth off the ground, kid. Bugs exist here.” Lee, ex-assassin and weapon expert, whipped her long black ponytail over her shoulder as their holo-vehicle came to a stop in front of Ambassador Al Smith’s house.

“You never told me how beautiful the ambassador planet was.”

She scoffed and re-checked her belt that was normally stacked with knives lining the leather. Now only two remained. “The thing about beauty is that it comes with a price. No sense salivating over something you won’t want to pay for.”

Except, maybe I do.

Sampson had gone his whole life without much. Joining up with Smith’s crew, back when the ambassador was a lowly body collector, Sampson had earned his place. When he’d ditched the Body Collection Service and joined the crew of Gina, he’d found a family. Regardless of the gains, there still existed this gnawing need inside him for more.

“You could have something like this, bet on it. Show these pansy fools your big brain in action.” Lee nudged him on the shoulder before she hopped out of the vehicle. “Enough sitting around talking. Let’s do this.”

Sure, he probably could reach living on Saturn status. Al had. The captain of a death barge was now a parliament ambassador, a fairy-tale story like the ones his mother used to spout over their dinner of broth and stale food cubes. The possibility of living on a wealthy planet in a fancy house tempted, but he wanted another kind of freedom. Living here would only be another prison of servitude. The desire to roam space, go where he wanted when he wanted, to eat what he wanted… All those wants drove him on.

“Welcome to my home,” Al called out from the front door, all fancy robes, ginger beard tamed and his infamous nose ring a thing of the past.

Sampson gave a single nod out of respect and instinctually reached to tug on the edge of the beanie he typically wore on the ship. “Thanks for the invite.”

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Sampson patted down his ginger hair and glanced at Lee, whose raised eyebrow told him everything he needed to know. “Perhaps another time. This is supposed to be a business trip, and I’d like to get to work right away.”

The words rolled off Sampson’s tongue like contaminated waste in a slip drive, foreign and unwelcome. He wanted to throw caution to the wind, take a tour or enjoy a fancy lunch—which was exactly why Lee had come along, to keep him focused.

The invitation from Al had come in a solar week before and Gina, the ship’s artificial intelligence, had been eager to share with Sampson how his expertise was requested along with the possible payday involved.

Enough crinkle to bathe in, according to Gina. Their co-captains, Toni and Emilio, were busy with another gig and had graciously offered up Gina along with the remainder of the crew to escort him. More like babysit. The implication stung a bit but made sense. Gina wasn’t a cheap ship, and she’d been hijacked before. Though if he completed this job, the flash was his for the taking, and maybe…

I’ll have enough to buy Gina.

“Straighten up, kid. Don’t let yourself be intimidated by him. You’re smarter.” Lee casually whispered these words on their walk up.

The encouragement soothed his shaken soul a bit. The last time he’d encountered Al Smith, Sampson had been indentured to Al’s body collection barge with a twenty-year service tag. Al hadn’t been horrible to work for, but he’d still been in charge and not afraid to stow a young boy in a small crappy room in the underbelly of the ship.

Sampson and Lee reached the front entrance, and he took note of the pair of guards posted right inside. Business trip indeed.

“Yes, and once you get inside, we can chat. You don’t mind if the guards search you?” Al asked with a sheepish smile.

Trust doesn’t come easy anywhere in this damn galaxy. They’d been searched three times since they’d gotten off Gina’s shuttle at the landing port. No such thing as a small measure for the planet housing parliament’s ambassadors.

Lee smiled, a wicked fucking grin equal parts ‘screw you’ and ‘sure thing.’ “Do what you have to, but my knives stay. I already put away half of them. The rest is for your protection and Sampson’s. Anything happens to him, and you’ll be answering to your sister personally if I don’t get you first.”

Pride swelled in Sampson’s chest. Family. These people cared about him, though sometimes he wished they would let him run his own missions. Let me take charge. Sure, he’d been told he was in charge on this one by Emilio, but Lee still played the role of big bad sister no matter what.

Al held up his hands. “Sure thing. Just making sure no explosives and whatnot. Loyda would be pissed if I didn’t follow protocol.”

Sampson nodded in agreement, standing up straight and spreading his arms. “Then let’s wrap this and get to it. Time is flash.”

About the Author:Landra Graf consumes at least one book a day, and has always been a sucker for stories where true love conquers all. She believes in the power of the written word, and the joy such words can bring. In between spending time with her family and having book adventures, she writes romance with the goal of giving everyone, fictional or not, their own happily ever after.

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LANDRA GRAF IS GIVING AWAY THIS FABULOUS PRIZE TO ONE LUCKY WINNER. ENTER HERE FOR YOUR CHANCE TO WIN A LOVELY GIFT PACKAGE AND GET AND YOUR FREE LANDRA GRAF ROMANCE BOOK! Notice: This competition ends on 3rd August 2021 at 5pm GMT. Competition hosted by Totally Entwined Group.

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Sun, Sea and Summer Songs by Megan Slayer – Spotlight and Giveaway

July 20, 2021 By 6 Comments

This post is part of a virtual book tour organized by Goddess Fish Promotions. Megan Slayer will be awarding a Prize Pack featuring a necklace made by the author to a randomly drawn winner via rafflecopter during the tour. Click on the tour banner to see the other stops on the tour.

Two men, one song and a summer to reconnect.

Jude Sanders walked away from Blake Payton three years ago and vowed not to look back…but the song he wrote and recorded with Blake has become a hit and he’s forced to perform the song with Blake all summer. He’s got to make a decision—face the mistakes in his past and give Blake another try or turn his back on their love forever.

Blake Payton knew the moment he and Jude recorded Summer Song that they’d created a hit. Summer hasn’t been the same without Jude in his life and he sees the tour as the ultimate chance to prove they belong together.

Will the tour, their lost love and the song of the summer be enough to put the pieces back together for good?

Reader advisory: This book contains references to excess drinking and cocaine addiction, references to abusive alcoholic father and childhood poverty. There is a scene involving sexual assault.

Enjoy an Excerpt

“Remember the song I did with Jude Sanders? Three years down the road, it’s a hit. Summer Song is the defining song of this season—according to the charts. What do you think about that?” He’d known the song was a hit when they’d recorded it, but Kel and others had seen it as a liability.

“Gag. You know why that is?” Kel asked. “Because a few disc jockeys and their veejay friends worked with influencers and kids on the internet to promote it. They made it happen. Big deal.”

“If the numbers are right, then it is a big deal and will be a good payday.” He switched off the monitor. “I could use the money and chance to get back to playing music instead of doing these lousy movies.”

“You’re doing the movie. Period. You don’t need to record music any longer. You can do this and get more attention. Remember how you wanted to do that bio pic? The Rat Ragland film? If you keep doing these and show your range, you’ll get that film.” Kel folded his arms. “You do realize you get more eyeballs this way.”

“Eyeballs don’t help when I’m not getting paid for the work.” He fiddled with the mirror again. The memory of his reflection came to mind. He’d been made up to look old, and the creases and dark circles did him no favors. He wanted to record again. He came alive in the studio and music flowed in his soul. Playing the movie star wasn’t his thing, no matter how much he wanted to do the punk rocker’s bio flick. He hated trying to remember his lines while being someone else. Being himself was hard enough. His fans expected Payday, the flamboyant pop star with no holds barred. They wanted spectacle and sass.

“You’re getting paid.” Kel swatted Blake’s arm. “Grow up and stop getting pissed. It’s crap.”

“Why?” He watched Kel flip through the book on the counter. Blake doubted Kel read much of anything, especially not Shakespeare. He wouldn’t know a rhyming couplet from expository writing. Kel tossed the book onto the couch and glared at Blake. His stare could bore holes through steel when he got angry. Kel liked to use his hands and his thundering voice to get his point across. Most of the time, the tactic worked and Blake benefitted, but sometimes Kel could be abrasive and cruel.

“You have the whole summer ahead of you, so stop thinking about the past and enjoy the sun. You’re in California. There’s sun, fun and chicks. Get laid and shut up.” Kel shook his head. “Ever since Jude got into your brain and messed with you, you’ve been off your game.”

No kidding. Jude had churned up the feelings Blake thought he’d buried. Then again, Blake hadn’t come out to Kel, and Kel had no idea Blake wasn’t attracted to women. Christ. His behavior and appearance, wearing makeup and the rainbow colors, should’ve clued Kel in by now. Every time he did a collaboration, he did it with camp and style. He preferred to sing with other men and be flamboyant.

“Let me find you a chick. We’ll get you sexed up and you’ll chill out.” Kel nodded. “I’ll be back.”

Blake sighed as his promoter left. He didn’t want to be with a woman, random or otherwise. Truth be told, he wanted to be with Jude. That wasn’t going to happen now, and he’d have to listen to their song all summer as a reminder of what he’d given up.

©Megan Slayer, 2021, All Rights Reserved

About the Author:

Megan Slayer, aka Wendi Zwaduk, is a multi-published, award-winning author of more than one-hundred short stories and novels. She’s been writing since 2008 and published since 2009. Her stories range from the contemporary and paranormal to LGBTQ and white hot themes. No matter what the length, her works are always hot, but with a lot of heart. She enjoys giving her characters a second chance at love, no matter what the form. She’s been nominated at the LRC for Best Author, Best Contemporary, Best Ménage, Best BDSM and Best Anthology. Her books have made it to the bestseller lists on Amazon.com.

When she’s not writing, Megan spends time with her husband and son as well as three dogs and three cats. She enjoys art, music and racing, but football is her sport of choice. She’s an active member of the Friends of the Keystone-LaGrange Public library. Find out more about Megan and Wendi at her website.

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Sun, Sea and Spotted Squid by Kristian Parker – Spotlight and Giveaway

July 19, 2021 By Leave a Comment

Long and Short Reviews welcomes Kristian Parker who is celebrating the recent release of Sun, Sea and Spotted Squid. Enter to win a fabulous gift package and get a FREE eBook from the author!

Sam came to Spain for a summer with squid—but found a Wolfgang…

University graduate Sam is looking forward to a summer internship at Valencia’s world-famous Oceanogràfic Aquarium, but it’s fellow intern and flatmate Wolf who captures his interest.

Tall, handsome redhead Wolfgang is also aloof, and Sam burns to know what makes him tick. Being paired with him on a project has Sam imagining them spending their days out on the ocean in the aquarium’s boat, but Wolfgang only has eyes for the rare spotted squid they’re assigned to study. Charming.

But Sam won’t take second place to a cephalopod mollusc, even one with spots. He sets his sights on cracking Wolfgang’s shell…only to discover the sexy German is so far in the closet that his address could be Narnia House, Narnia Street, Narnia.

Can Sam help Wolfgang find the strength to be true to himself and his desires, or will their relationship be like the squid they’re seeking and plummet to the depths of the seabed when summer’s over?

Enjoy an Excerpt

France lay below like the skin of a huge beast, veins interlocking across it, but if I really squinted, they became roads with little cars and lorries zooming along them. From the first time I’d been on an aeroplane as a kid, I’d loved to stare out of the window at the world below. All those lives being played out beneath me sent my imagination rolling.

“And what is it you’re doing in Spain?” asked Mrs Talkative, my seat neighbour who was oblivious to my turned shoulder.

“I’m going to be working at the Oceanogràfic,” I replied, cursing myself again that I had left my headphones at the bottom of my bag, out of reach.

“Oh yes, I know what that is,” she said, holding up a guidebook as evidence. “That’s the aquarium near the beach.”

I nodded and gave her a weak smile.

“I’m surprised that your mother is letting you come out here for the summer,” she continued.

I had just turned twenty-five, so my mother didn’t really have much of a say in what I did. She had cried buckets at the departure lounge, of course. I had tried to explain to her that I had been away from her longer than eight weeks when I’d lived at uni, but nothing had stopped the waterworks.

“She just wants me to be happy,” I told Mrs Talkative.

“She sounds like a wonderful mother.” She popped her mini bottle of prosecco with a shriek of glee and poured herself a glass. “Bottoms up. Here’s to happy holidays.”

I took a healthy swig of my beer while she sipped her fizz as though she had never done anything so wild in her life.

* * * *

Two hours later and I found myself in the back of a taxi to take me to the rooms in the old town that the aquarium had arranged. I had managed to lose Mrs Talkative at the baggage carousel—otherwise, I think she would have insisted on coming and checking out my room. I half suspected her to be a sleeper agent dispatched by my mother to keep watch.

The view from the taxi seemed like any other European city. Huge furniture shops gave way to bigger supermarkets which gave way to vast warehouses. Even so, I had my nose glued to the window while I took in the city that would be my home for the next eight weeks.

As we came closer to the centre, the modern buildings slowly changed to older, more dusty ones. People on the street replaced the hard shoulder. Young people crowded around a motorcycle. Three women gossiped on the corner. A group of men were making their way into a bar. And I couldn’t wait to dive into it.

I had been to Spain before, but my family preferred an all-inclusive hotel to a city break. I had wanted a new experience…and I’d got one.

“There is a kite festival soon as well,” said the taxi driver, who had taken it upon himself to give me a running commentary.

I’ll be here for the whole summer. I can go to that festival and I’m not even bothered about kites.

The car turned onto a busy road and to my left were treetops on a level with the car.

“What’s that?” I asked.

“Ah,” said the driver, puffing up his chest. “That is the Turia Riverbed Park. The jewel in our crown. Down below the road, where the river once flowed, lies a beautiful park.”

I frowned. “What happened to the river?”

“Years ago, they were sick of the flooding, so they simply rerouted the river. They made that park from land. My grandfather worked on it, you know.”

I hadn’t been too great at doing my research into the place—after studying hard for my Master’s, I’d struggled to find motivation to pick up yet another book. But I had read online that the park led to the Ciutat de les Arts i de les Ciències which held the aquarium I would be working in.

“Is the aquarium there?” I asked.

“Ah yes, so many buildings down towards the sea.”

I craned my neck behind to see if I could see the huge buildings I’d studied on the internet, but couldn’t see anything.

“You won’t see it like that. You want me to detour?” the driver-turned-tour-guide offered.

As tempting as it was, I declined. I wanted to find my digs and my fellow workmates.

I had never been the type who had wanderlust. I had been happy to wave my school friends off when they went to find themselves in far-flung places. I’d settled on finishing my studies. I’d had plenty of fun on the way too, so I didn’t feel too sorry for myself. But today made up for all that lost excitement, especially now we were on the cobbled streets of the old town. I peered out of the windows, trying to get my bearings. People were on both sides of the narrow street, jumping onto the pavement as we drove past.

Eventually we stopped outside a nondescript bar with a couple of people outside smoking. The sign seemed to be half hanging off and the rusty yellowy-white furniture in front of it had seen better days.

“We’re here,” announced the taxi driver.

“We are?” I echoed, my stomach sinking.

I rustled in my bag to get out my letter from the aquarium and checked the address. We were here. Perhaps it would be better inside. The letter said to use the door to the left of the bar.

Standing in the street once I’d paid the driver, I looked up at the grimy windows. The smokers outside the bar watched me with interest. Putting on the best confident face in my repertoire, I picked up my spectacularly heavy suitcase and made my way through the door and up the filthy staircase that greeted me.

By the time I reached the top, I had to lean against the wall. I regretted packing nearly every item of clothing I owned. I had agonised over the outfit to wear today, but first impressions counted, so I’d settled on jeans and polo shirt, tight to show off my slim waist. I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror at the top of the stairs—my dark curls had gone a bit frizzy, but other than that, I didn’t look too bad.

A stunningly beautiful girl appeared out of one of the doors.

“Hola,” she said, staring me up and down.

“Hi. I’m Sam Davis.”

“Ah, typical Brit. Doesn’t know the language and expects us all to know his,” she said with a smirk.

“Hola. Encantado de conocerte. Soy Sam Davis.”

She had the decency to give a little embarrassed laugh. “Silly me. I shouldn’t judge a book by its cover, should I? I’m Astrid Ström.”

We stood there staring at each other for a second before she realised she had barred my way.

“Come in,” she said.

I followed her down the corridor. To my horror, my feet were sticking to a carpet which clearly hadn’t seen a decent vacuum cleaner in decades.

A door on my left lay open. Inside, another girl was busying herself hanging up clothes.

“Maria, this is Sam,” Astrid called.

Maria stopped pulling clothes out of her suitcase long enough to give me a wave.

We carried on to the end of the passage, which had three more doors. Before I could ask about the winding staircase next to the third door, which must lead to another floor, Astrid pointed to the door on the left that had a poster of a rock band called Satan’s Flesh peeling off it. “That’s Genevieve and Paul’s room. They are in there doing things that couples do.” She giggled.

The overwhelming smell of old fried food had started to make my eyes water. I couldn’t work out if it came from one of the rooms or from downstairs.

Astrid seemed to be taking charge of everyone. How had they managed to form a tight group already? I hated being the last to turn up anywhere. I would much rather be the first and let things build around me, but I couldn’t do anything about it now.

Astrid pushed open the middle door to reveal the smallest kitchen I had ever seen. A gas cooker covered in stains and a tiny larder fridge told me I would probably be eating out a lot of the summer. The smell doubled in here. I knew I shouldn’t turn my nose up, but this had not been what I had imagined when I’d heard I would be living in Valencia’s famous old town area.

Behind the final door, she showed me a matching tiny bathroom. “I’ve given it a good clean,” she said. I clearly hadn’t hidden my first impressions. My friends always said I would be a useless poker player.

“Thank you,” I said.

That meant my room must be up the steep stairs I had glimpsed.

“We thought we’d go out for something to eat. See you in an hour?”

“Oh, okay.”

With that, she set off down the corridor to her room before stopping halfway. “Oh, choose whichever of the two rooms upstairs you like. The final member of our little group doesn’t arrive until later.”

I took a deep breath and half carried, half dragged my case up the stairs. It caught on a piece of the peeling wallpaper and managed to rip it off, sending some plaster scattering onto the threadbare carpet. At the top lay a small landing with three doors.

I peeped through one into the room it led to. It had to have been a storeroom at some point—the proportions were tiny. So much for attics having the biggest rooms. A quick peek through the middle door revealed a shower room. I opted for the final door.

I pushed it open and discovered what would be my home for the next eight weeks.

A lumpy bed sat against one wall with a black lacquer bedside cabinet to the side. A wobbly looking desk and wardrobe completed the furnishings. This is just a place to sleep. You’ll be out most of the time.

I plonked myself down on the bed and took a minute. I had made it to Spain. The view from the window showed the rooftops of the town stretching ahead to the cathedral in the distance. It reminded me of when I’d first arrived at the halls of residence at university. Some people had been nervous, but I couldn’t wait to get going and find out what adventure I had signed up for.

I took a picture of the view and sent it to my Mum.

Greetings from España. It’s lovely here. Can’t wait to get started.

It wouldn’t be a good move to show her my room. She would go mad. My case sat in the corner—I should probably unpack. But I had all the time in the world. Instead, I sat up on the windowsill and watched all the people coming and going. A bit of peace felt great.

An hour later, I ventured down to the kitchen. I hadn’t braved a shower—something told me that would need all my strength. Instead, I’d washed in the sink and changed my clothes, discovering that the bathroom was for my room and the other bedroom, meaning I’d have to remember to lock both doors when I used it.

In the kitchen I found a couple feeding each other pieces of ham.

“Bonjour,” said the girl when she saw me come in.

“Bonjour,” I replied.

“This is our Brit, then,” said the man. “I am Paul and this is Genevieve.”

“Sam.”

We put our hands in our pockets and kind of stared at each other awkwardly. “Where shall we eat?” asked Paul, breaking the stalemate, much to my relief.

“Oh, we have to have paella,” said a voice behind me. Astrid beamed away at us. “We are in the birthplace of it, after all.”

“Do you like paella?” Paul asked me.

“I love it. I do eat more than egg and chips, you know,” I said. “In fact, I make a mean paella myself…but probably not in this kitchen.”

They all laughed. Always a good sign.

“Paul has been reading about the best paella place in Valencia,” said Genevieve, staring adoringly at him. “It’s only a few streets away.”

“That’s settled then,” said Astrid.

“Ready,” said Maria over Astrid’s shoulder.

Our merry little band were all together for the first time. “Time for a selfie,” I said. Everyone got in for the picture.

“We will have to do one when the other guy comes,” said Maria.

I’d almost forgotten about the missing member. “What’s his name?”

“Wolfgang,” said Astrid. “I saw it on the email.”

Wolfgang? That sounded butch. What would he be like? I’d find out soon enough.

About the Author I have written for as long as I could write. In fact, before, when I would dictate to my auntie. I love to read, and I love to create worlds and characters.

I live in the English countryside. When I’m not writing, I like to get out there and think through the next scenario I’m going to throw my characters into.

Inspiration can be found anywhere, on a train, in a restaurant or in an office. I am always in search of the next character to find love in one of my stories. In a world of apps and online dating, it is important to remember love can be found when you least expect it.

Facebook | Goodreads | First for Romance

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KRISTIAN PARKER IS GIVING AWAY THIS FABULOUS PRIZE TO ONE LUCKY WINNER. ENTER HERE FOR YOUR CHANCE TO WIN A LOVELY GIFT PACKAGE AND YOUR FREE KRISTIAN PARKER ROMANCE BOOK! Notice: This competition ends on 27th July 2021 at 5pm GMT. Competition hosted by Totally Entwined Group.

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Naughty & Sweet by Megan Slayer – Spotlight and Giveaway

July 15, 2021 By 3 Comments

This post is part of a virtual book tour organized by Goddess Fish Promotions. Megan Slayer will be awarding a Prize Pack featuring a necklace made by the author (US only) to a randomly drawn winner via rafflecopter during the tour. Click on the tour banner to see the other stops on the tour.

 

Will Kelly risk her heart for a chance at forever with a man 15 years her senior or walk away?

Kelly Fenn came to the Honey Dripper seeking what she thinks is an easy way to make cash to pay off a loan. Martin Malachi is the one man she never expected to find, let alone fall in love with.

Martin’s not looking for a girlfriend, but Kelly needs a job. When he suggests an offer Kelly can’t refuse, she’s got a choice to make. Will she risk her heart for a chance at forever with a man fifteen years her senior, or walk away?





Enjoy an Excerpt

“You’re a college student?”

“Yes.” She put her license back in her wallet. “Do you want to see my student ID?”

“No.” He should talk to her in one of the offices, instead of the foyer. “Let me call Amanda over. She can cover the desk.”

“Okay.” She shrugged. “Whatever you’ve got to do.”

He tapped his phone, summoning the woman who normally manned the desk. He sent the text, then turned his attention to Kelly. “Tell me about yourself.”

“What do you want to know?” she asked. “I’m twenty-one, in my third year at Green College. I’m studying film history, and I’d like to get a position working with a museum or in the film industry cataloguing movies. Ideally, I want to work here in Cambridge in the little museum, creating digital and film content for the museum as well as cataloguing the films and clips in the archives.”

“Ah.” He gestured to Amanda, who’d just arrived. “I need you at the desk while I speak to this applicant.”

Amanda crooked her drawn-on eyebrow. “Is that what you’re calling it now?”

“What?” Kelly sighed. “If you can’t take me seriously, then I give up.”

“You’ll never work here with that attitude.” Amanda took her place behind the desk. “Good luck.”

Martin groaned. He liked Amanda, but not in a romantic way. Her sense of humor didn’t gel with his, and she tended to look at the world in a pessimistic manner. “Thank you.” He picked up the laptop and gestured to Kelly. “Ready?”

Copyright ©2021 Megan Slayer All rights reserved.

About the Author: Megan Slayer, aka Wendi Zwaduk, is a multi-published, award-winning author of more than one-hundred short stories and novels. She’s been writing since 2008 and published since 2009. Her stories range from the contemporary and paranormal to LGBTQ and white hot themes. No matter what the length, her works are always hot, but with a lot of heart. She enjoys giving her characters a second chance at love, no matter what the form. She’s been nominated at the LRC for Best Author, Best Contemporary, Best Ménage, Best BDSM and Best Anthology. Her books have made it to the bestseller lists on Amazon.com.

When she’s not writing, Megan spends time with her husband and son as well as three dogs and three cats. She enjoys art, music and racing, but football is her sport of choice. She’s an active member of the Friends of the Keystone-LaGrange Public library.

Website | Newsletter | Blog | Facebook Fan Page | Amazon Author Page | BookBub | Instagram | Goodreads | Twitter

Buy the book at Changeling Press172, Amazon, iBooks, Barnes and Noble, Kobo, or Boks2Read

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Sun, Sea and Small-Town Secrets by S.J. Coles – Spotlight and Giveaway

July 9, 2021 By Leave a Comment

Long and Short Reviews welcomes S.J. Coles who is celebrating the recent release of Sun, Sea and Small-Town Secrets. Enter to win a FREE eBook from the author!

Small towns are full of secrets, some harder to keep than most.

Sebastian Conway is a professional psychologist and accomplished criminal profiler, but when one of his patients is sentenced to life in prison for a crime she didn’t commit, he simply cannot let it go. His borderline obsessive behaviour has embarrassed his boss and lover, Gerrard Wilson, and the relationship has come to a bitter end.

Seb has now grudgingly taken Gerrard’s advice and come to the small coastal town of Ruéier in the South of France to get some distance and clear his head—but he cannot sit by and do nothing.

He has started writing a book he believes will address the failings in the case, but when he gets swept up in a local investigation into suspected drug trafficking, which is led by the enigmatic and strangely enticing Antoine Damboise, the book—and Seb’s intentions to avoid active criminal cases—take a back seat.

He knows it’s a bad idea to get involved, but he can’t seem to help himself. And when it seems Damboise is tempted to make their relationship more than professional, Seb finds it easier than ever to ignore his better judgment. But when a local drug dealer is murdered and Seb is implicated, everything gets a whole lot more complicated.

Can the two men set aside their personal feelings long enough to figure out what’s really going on before Seb ends up in prison? Or worse…

Reader advisory: This book contains scenes of murder and drug use.

Enjoy an Excerpt

I turned over with a sigh. I’d thought that second bottle of red would help me sleep this time, but all I’d achieved was insomnia with a headache.

The moonlight creeping in round the edge of the blind illuminated the bold, minimalist prints on the walls and the simple, spartan furniture that was so at odds with the balmy, luscious countryside outside.

Gerrard had always liked his surroundings…controlled. Even the washing powder was the same brand he’d used in the flat at home, so the sheets smelled like him.

I pushed them back with a frustrated grumble then wandered into the living area. I stared at the open laptop on the desk, the piles of journals and drifts of paper surrounding it. I shook my head, returned to the bedroom, dressed then left the villa.

The cool night air felt good against my flushed skin. I strode along the seafront boulevard where the cafe and boulangerie shopfronts were bleached shades of grey in the moonlight. I took deep breaths, inhaling the smells of salt and dried seaweed.

I checked my phone. It was getting on for two-thirty. I rubbed my face, admitting I wasn’t feeling much better than when I’d left the villa—no better than when I’d stepped off the plane a week before, either. I sat on a bench and gazed out over the deserted beach. During the day, the sand was so light and the sea so blue that it was almost tropical. Even at night it was beautiful, all shifting shadows and pale sand under a sky so vast and crowded with stars that it was like it belonged to another world.

I’d never visited France before. Hell, I’d never ventured outside the UK, apart from that one—and best forgotten—trip to Majorca with Gerrard for our anniversary. But I had to admit that Ruéier was picture-postcard perfect—small, unspoiled, off the beaten track, so not overrun by tourists and the inevitable high-street chains that followed them. It was everything Gerrard had said it was—the perfect place to get some distance and write my book.

So why can’t I sleep?

I stood, thinking to walk the long way home and avoid analysing the question too deeply but stopped when the sound of voices rippled the easy quiet of the night. Stepping out from the shadow of a tree, I saw one of the boats in the harbour had its cabin light on. It illuminated the wide deck and a tall wheelhouse. Several figures were aboard and another on the pier, loading large bags into the hold.

I wasn’t sure what made me look closer. There had to be plenty of reasons for loading a boat at night. But something about the way they moved and the low urgency of their muttered French raised the hairs on the back of my arms.

When the figure on the pier handed over the last heavy-looking holdall, his jacket lifted and I glimpsed a gun tucked in his waistband.

I stepped back into the shadows just as the hooded face turned my way. I held my breath. The voices went quiet but then the roar of the boat’s engine tore through the silence.

I swore silently to myself. I’d come to Ruéier to get away from suspicious figures with guns. I held my breath for several more heartbeats before daring another look. The boat was heading for the harbour mouth and the figure from the pier was coming up the stairs less than five meters away. I ducked behind the tree and held still. I could hear his footsteps now, coming right for me.

He walked right past, heading south, down the boulevard toward the ferry port. His shoulders were hunched, his hands in his pockets and his head moved left to right as he scanned the shadows on either side.

I didn’t breathe again until he’d turned a corner and disappeared.

About the Author S. J. Coles is a Romance writer originally from Shropshire, UK. She has been writing stories for as long as she has been able to read them. Her biggest passion is exploring narratives through character relationships.

She finds writing LGBT/paranormal romance provides many unique and fulfilling opportunities to explore many (often neglected or under-represented) aspects of human experience, expectation, emotion and sexuality.

Among her biggest influences are LGBT Romance authors K J Charles and Josh Lanyon and Vampire Chronicles author Anne Rice.

Find S. J. Coles at her website and follow her on Instagram.

Website | Instagram | First for Romance | Goodreads
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Sun, Sea and Summer Vibes by Zoe Allison – Spotlight and Giveaway

July 8, 2021 By 1 Comment

Long and Short Reviews welcomes Zoe Allison who is celebrating the recent release of Sun, Sea and Summer Vibes. Enter to win a fabulous prize and get a FREE eBook from the author!

Sometimes first impressions are far from the truth…

Nina Darwish is a scientist who likes to proceed with caution and careful deliberation. When she arrives at the party destination of Ibiza to play PA for her best friend international pop sensation Isla Starr, she has trouble adapting to the carefree and easy-going vibe on the island. The situation isn’t aided by Isla’s seemingly surly yet irritatingly attractive music producer, the world-renowned dance DJ Logan Wild, known by his real name—Cameron—to his friends. Plus, Nina’s run-ins with, and repeated rebuttal of, an extremely entitled and very annoying male singer named Zac don’t help aid her mood.

Unbeknownst to Nina, Cameron remembers her from the past, when he was a geeky student who admired her from afar. Unfortunately, it’s clear that Nina considers him ill-natured, no doubt due to his natural awkwardness, which he masks using a stage persona. However, even if that weren’t the situation, he’s involved in a dead-end relationship with his celebrity girlfriend Ash. Plus, Nina’s eye appears to have been drawn onto Ash’s no good ex-boyfriend, Zac, therefore there’s no point in believing anything could ever happen between them.

But despite all that being the case, for some reason, he just cannot stop thinking about her.

Enjoy an Excerpt

Nina rolled her eyes as the racket from the rowdy young men at the rear of the plane grew louder. The stewardess marched down to tell them off for the second time. Nina didn’t envy the job of the plane crew at the best of times, never mind with that rabble.

She lifted the laminated flight menu and fought the urge to gag at the images of the greasy cuisine. I suppose that’s par for the course on a cheap airline. The stewardess came back to the front and recommenced loading the trolley in the galley.

One of the young men from the group staggered down the aisle toward the toilet. He tried the door, despite the very clear ‘engaged’ sign, then let out an exasperated noise when it didn’t open. He eyed the stewardess. “Can’t we just have one more drink?” he slurred.

She looked at him. “No. You’ve had enough. There’ll be plenty more alcohol for you once we get to Ibiza.”

He slouched against the wall. “For fuck’s sake, who put the rod up your arse?”

The young mum next to Nina put her hands over her small child’s ears. Nina gritted her teeth, unbuckled and stood. “Don’t speak to her like that.”

The guy did a double-take, clearly not expecting anyone to challenge him. “Mind your own business.”

“I am minding my business,” Nina said. “This is my flight as much as yours.” She pointed to the young mum and her daughter. “And theirs.” Nina gestured to the elderly couple in the row behind. “And also theirs. We didn’t pay good money to sit and listen to your crap. And the staff are trying to get on with their jobs. They don’t have to put up with your abuse.”

He opened his mouth.

“Shut it,” Nina said. “Shut your mouth, use the toilet, then go back to your seat and keep it shut. That stewardess has the power to instruct the pilot to turn back to Glasgow, land this plane and throw you all off. Then you’ll get the forty-thousand-pound bill to pay for the disruption to the flight.”

The guy glanced at the stewardess, who smiled and nodded.

Nina folded her arms and stared at him. He broke eye contact to glance at the floor. The toilet freed up and he nearly tripped in his hurry to get in there.

Nina took her seat again to the sound of applause from the people who’d heard the exchange.

The mum next to her touched her arm. “Well done.”

Nina smiled and waved her hand in an ‘it’s nothing’ gesture.

The stewardess came over and checked that the mum and her little girl were okay. She smiled at Nina. “Hi, I’m Laura. Can I get you anything? It’s on the house.”

Nina smiled back. “I’m fine, thanks. I’ll wait until we land.”

Laura perched on the staff seat across from her. “These summer Balearic flights are always the same—too many unruly groups who can’t wait until they arrive to get leathered and live it up. Sorry they caused a disruption.”

Nina shook her head. “It’s not you who should apologise.” She paused. “I did tell a white lie, though. I got this flight for free.”

Laura raised her eyebrows. “Oh?”

“My friend is out in Ibiza for a few weeks,” Nina continued. “She’s a singer and her new label is paying for me to go out as her PA.”

“That’s really cool,” Laura said. “Would I have heard of her?”

Nina nodded. “Maybe. Her name’s Isla Campbell, but her stage name is Isla Starr.”

Laura’s eyes widened. “Wow, I love her. She’s totally famous.”

Nina smiled, pride rising in her chest. “She’s really talented. I always knew she’d make it big.”

“What’s she doing in Ibiza?” Laura asked.

“There’s some hot-shot dance producer who’s asked her to do the vocal on his track. Her new label is massive with loads of contacts, so I think this is the start of her becoming known internationally.”

Laura sighed. “That sounds so glamorous. What do you do? Are you in the music industry too?”

Nina laughed. “Nope. I know nothing about music. I was a project manager for a drug company, but I just got made redundant…hence being available for this trip.”

“Sorry to hear that,” Laura said. “But I’m sure you’ll have a ball on Ibiza.” She sighed. “Anyway, I’d better get on with the trolley service. Shout if you need anything.”

Laura went back to work, and Nina stared out of the tiny window. She was pretty exhausted from the last few days, and only being given a couple of weeks’ notice about the trip had made the preparations very rushed. She smiled. Typical Isla.

Once they’d landed, Nina was among the first to leave the plane, getting a wave from Laura and her colleagues as she went. On the way through the airport processes, she tried to ignore the grumble of her stomach. She’d stop and get something once she got out into the arrivals hall.

Nina pulled her suitcase along and through the automatic doors toward the exit. Isla was always late, so when Nina locked eyes on a sandwich shop, she started toward it. A man holding a sign caught her eye. The placard said ‘Nina Darwish’.

Nina paused. Could it mean a different Nina Darwish? She went over to him. “I’m Nina, but I’m not sure if you’re here for me? My friend was supposed to meet me.”

The man nodded, saying something in Spanish then taking her suitcase and making toward the exit. Nina ran a few paces to keep up. This had better be for me, because goodness knows where I’ll end up otherwise. She wished she’d paid more attention in her Spanish class, but all she could remember was how to say ‘two beers, please’.

Out in the pick-up area, Nina expected a small taxi to await her but her jaw dropped when she clocked the guy putting her case into the back of a limo. There has definitely been a mistake. The driver held the door for her and she tried to ask him again if she was the right Nina Darwish, but he just ushered her into the vehicle.

Once inside, she scrabbled around in her bag for her phone and turned it on. She waited while it roamed to connect to the local service then brought up Isla’s number.

Isla’s face appeared on screen. She was among a crowd of people and there was a heavy bass line playing in the background. “Nina!” Isla shouted above the din. She flashed her megawatt smile. “You on your way here?”

“I’m on my way somewhere but God knows if it’s to you,” Nina said.

Isla’s frowned and flipped her red hair over her shoulder. “What do you mean? Didn’t you get the limo we sent?”

A wave of relief washed over Nina. “Yeah, I did, but I was confused. I didn’t think it was for me.”

Isla blinked, and her green eyes appeared a little glazed.

Is she drinking already? It’s only three p.m.

Isla shook her head. “The guy was meant to have a sign with your name on it.”

“He did,” Nina said. “But, you know, I still wasn’t sure.”

Isla rolled her eyes. “For goodness’ sake, you need to loosen up and stop second-guessing everything. I thought it’d be a nice surprise.”

Nina’s relief morphed into guilt. “It is a nice surprise. Sorry… I didn’t mean it that way. Thank you.”

Isla raised her arm in the air as she moved in time to the music. “Open the mini fridge.”

Nina leaned forward to do so and found a half-bottle of champagne. There was a glass in a holder next to it.

“That’s for you!” Isla called out over the music. “Drink up. You’ll be here soon.”

“Where’s here?“ Nina said, but the call cut off. She sighed. She was starving. Oh well. I’ll get something once I arrive. She lifted the champagne and popped the cork, pouring a glass. it was typical that Isla was fully embroiled in the Ibiza party atmosphere when she’d only been on the island a little over twenty-four hours.

It was hardly ten minutes later that the limo arrived outside a beach bar on Playa D’en Bossa, and Nina climbed out. She made to pay the driver, but he waved his hand, indicating that the fare had been pre-paid. He said something in Spanish and pointed along the road, but Nina was at a loss. Then he pulled away, leaving her outside the bar holding her bottle of champagne, minus her luggage. I have no clue what’s going on.

She turned to the bar and decided to go find Isla. Maybe she could solve the mystery of the kidnapped luggage. Nina walked inside, scanning for her friend. Crowds of very beautiful, scantily clad people milled around. The women were wearing bikinis and the men tiny beach shorts and Nina found herself averting her eyes. She glanced at her vest top and linen trousers, feeling overdressed.

Nina stopped in the middle of the bar, her hunger perpetuating her frustration. She took a glug of champagne from the bottle, leaning against a pillar and feeling like some sort of reprobate. She caught movement out of the corner of her eye. There was another room leading off the bar, manned by a burly bouncer holding a clipboard. Nina took another sip then steeled herself for embarrassment, because there was no doubt she’d be turned away.

She approached the bouncer. “I don’t suppose my name’s on there? It’s Nina Darwish.”

The bouncer looked her up and down with a raised eyebrow then scanned his list. He nodded and shifted to the side. For a moment Nina was frozen with surprise. Then she remembered herself and walked past him, impulsively offering him a sip from her bottle as she went. He shook his head, a bemused expression on his face. She shrugged. “Suit yourself.” I think this champagne is going to my head. She paused, trying to spot Isla. Finally, she laid eyes on her, in the middle of a dancing crowd. Nina made her way over, excusing herself through the throng. “Isla!” she shouted over the music.

Isla turned. “Nina!” She threw her arms around Nina, causing her to nearly drop the bottle.

Isla released her. “I can’t believe you’re here. It’s been months.”

Nina smiled. “I know. I’ve missed you.”

Isla grinned. “Me too. I’m so glad you made it.”

“Yeah, but my luggage didn’t,” Nina said.

“What?” Isla frowned. “The airline lost it?”

Nina shook her head. “The limo guy took off with it.”

Isla laughed. “He’s taking it to our hotel, you idiot.”

Realisation dawned on Nina. She really did need to loosen up and not think the worst.

Isla grabbed the bottle from her and drained the last of it. “Come on. Let’s go to the bar.” She took Nina’s hand and pulled her through the crowd.

Isla leaned against the bar and gestured to the barman for another full bottle of champagne.

Nina nudged her. “I wish you’d told me I was coming straight here. I would’ve dressed up.”

Isla laughed. “Dressed up? Everyone’s in beach wear.”

“Yeah,” Nina said, eyeing a beautiful woman passing by in a tiny white bikini embellished with jewels. “But they’re still more glamorous than me.”

“Bollocks,” Isla said, drinking straight out of the bottle the barman had handed her, then passing it to Nina. “You look effortlessly awesome, as per normal. Come on. Let’s have a dance. Then I’ll introduce you to some people.”

Nina took a swig and huffed out her breath. I’d rather go to the hotel and stuff my face, then have a lie-down.

She followed Isla onto the dance floor. They took turns to drink from the bottle, and before long, Nina’s head was swimming from both the alcohol and Isla spinning her around. She paused to get her bearings and took Isla’s arm. “I need to go to the loo. Back in a sec.”

Isla nodded. “Take this back to the bar on the way.” She handed over the empty bottle.

Nina stumbled through the crowd. Did we finish it already?

After using the ladies’ room, she returned to the bar in order to get a soft drink, plus some snacks to soak up the alcohol. She was just stuffing herself with the remnants when someone nudged her arm. She glanced over and a guy was standing next to her, grinning. “Wish I was that packet of chips,” he said.

Nina frowned. I haven’t got any chips. She studied him for a second and was nearly blinded by the whiteness of his teeth. Her alcohol-addled brain took a couple of moments to process. He’s American. They call crisps ‘chips’. “Okay,” she said, for want of a better response.

He sidled in closer. “You’re English? That’s sexy. Can I get you a drink?”

Nina’s sixth sense told her that he was the sort of guy who’d feel entitled to whatever he wanted in return for buying a female a drink.

“No thank you,” she said.

He frowned, clearly not used to hearing the word ‘no’. “Don’t you know who I am?”

Nina rolled her eyes. Does that line ever get him anywhere? Even if she did know who he was, she still wouldn’t be interested. “I know you’re a dickhead,” she said, aware that the drink had loosened her tongue but figuring he deserved it after that arrogant statement.

He laughed. “Your loss.” He took his drink from the barman and turned to leave.

“Thank God for that,” Nina muttered. She glanced up and locked eyes with another man across the bar. He seemed vaguely familiar, but she couldn’t think when she’d have met a guy as handsome as him before. He had hazel eyes and sandy, sun-tinted hair. Before she had a chance to smile, he looked away and moved from the bar.

Dammit. Why couldn’t he have been the one to offer me a drink? Someone nudged her arm and she sighed. “For God’s sake, I said no, okay?”

“What?” Isla said, leaning in next to her. “What’re you talking about?”

“Oh. Nothing.” Nina said, glancing behind to check that white-teeth-guy had gone.

“Were you talking to Zac before?” Isla said.

Nina frowned. “Who?”

“Zac,” Isla said. “Like, the hottest male pop star on the planet.”

Nina raised her eyebrows. “Hottest, as in most attractive—or as in most popular?”

Isla smiled. “Both.”

“I’m not sure,” Nina said. “Has he got wavy bleached-blond hair with short sides that comes over his forehead, nearly obscuring his ice-blue eyes and bright-white-teeth that nearly blot out the sun?”

Isla sighed. “Yes.”

Nina frowned. “Then I think I might have spoken to him. I told him I didn’t want a drink and he wasn’t impressed.”

“You turned him down?” Isla said. “Are you mental?”

Nina shook her head. “I didn’t find him attractive. He was an arrogant prick.”

Isla craned her neck, clearly hoping he might return and buy her a drink instead. “Then you must be the only woman on earth who thinks so.”

“Doubt it,” Nina said.

Isla turned back. “Anyway, you need to come meet Cameron.”

“Who’s Cameron?” Nina said. She rubbed her stomach. Maybe eating those crisps so quickly on a bellyful of champagne hadn’t been a good idea.

“Cameron Wild,” Isla said. “My producer? His stage name is Logan Wild. Don’t tell me you’ve not heard of him either.”

“Yeah, I’ve heard of him,” Nina said. It wasn’t a lie. She vaguely knew of Logan Wild, DJ and dance-music producer, but had no idea what he looked like or any details regarding his background.

“Come on,” Isla said, grabbing Nina’s hand and leading her through the throng.

The sudden movement caused Nina’s stomach to lurch and her niggling nausea intensified. She took a deep breath in an attempt to quell it.

Isla weaved them through the crowd toward the back of the room where a small group was conversing. There was one guy with his back to them who Nina assumed was Cameron, mainly because the rest of the group was female. As they approached, she realised it was the handsome man she’d locked eyes with across the bar. That did nothing to aid her nausea.

Isla tapped him on the shoulder, and he turned. His eyes struck Nina. Up close they were even more intense.

“This is my friend Nina,” Isla told him. “The one I was telling you about. “Nina, this is Cam.”

He surveyed her with a cool expression then held out his hand for a shake. But before Nina could grasp it, she gagged and slapped her hand over her mouth. She turned and fled for the ladies’ room and only just made it to the toilet before vomiting profusely.

About the Author: Growing up, Zoe Allison loved stories about falling in love. But rather than being rescued by a knight in shining armour, she imagined herself fighting dragons alongside him, battling supervillains as heroic allies, or teaming up to dive into perilous waters in order to save a loved one from drowning. Once Zoe did grow up, she became a doctor. But as time went on, she craved a creative outlet to counter the soul sapping burnout that her career inflicted upon her, and also to achieve those happy endings that were so often lacking in the real world. She wanted heroes who truly love and value women, who find their true love inspiring, are fascinated by her, want to connect with her as a soulmate and fully open themselves to her on an emotional level. And so, Zoe began to write her romances.

A Zoe Allison novel promises a heroine who is not only her hero’s equal in ability and intellect, but whose hero equals her in emotional intelligence. Her characters overcome conflict infused with spine tingling sexual tension to forge a deep connection as soul mates as well as lovers, and ultimately, they both rescue each other emotionally. Even if they might begin their journey as enemies…

First for Romance | Goodreads | Website

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ZOE ALLISON IS GIVING AWAY A BEAUTIFUL BLUE SARONG TO ONE LUCKY WINNER. ENTER HERE FOR YOUR CHANCE TO WIN AND GET A FREE ZOE ALLISON ROMANCE BOOK! Notice: This competition ends on 20TH July 2021 at 5pm GMT. Competition hosted by Totally Entwined Group.

Filed Under: Erotic Romance, Guest Blogs Tagged With: ,

Sun, Sea, and Sinful Delights by Jayce Carter – Spotlight and Giveaway

July 7, 2021 By Leave a Comment

Long and Short Reviews welcomes Jayce Carter, who is celebrating the recent release of Sun, Sea and Sinful Delights. Enter to win a fabulous gift package and get a FREE Jayce Carter romance book!

Her three sexy houseguests are forbidden fruit, and she really wants a taste…

Jennifer has spent her life trying to be who her rich and proper family wants her to be and never quite living up to it. All that has given her is a failed marriage, a lot of insecurities and a business selling sex toys in secret. When she rents out the rooms of her beach house to three handsome men, however, she wonders if they might just put her toys to shame.

Lucas, Shane and Brandon go on vacation to get over the woman who broke their hearts. They’re tired of being treated as a dirty little secret by girlfriends who enjoy their attention in private but refuse to accept them in public. When they meet the sweet woman who owns the house they’re staying at, though, they realize it might be worth it to take that risk just one more time.

Even as Jennifer starts to fall for the men, she can’t escape the reality that her family will never approve of the odd relationship. In the end, she will have to decide what she really wants—the approval of her family, or a life with three men who make her truly happy…

Reader advisory: This book contains a brief scene involving sexual and physical assault. There is also mention of an emotionally abusive family.

Enjoy an Excerpt

This dildo is way too big.

Jennifer had thought that plenty of times when a client asked her to make something well outside her personal comfort zone, but the payment had always been more than worth it.

Still, when the toy dwarfed the soda can it sat next to, she winced.

No one needs that much.

If any man came at her with that, she’d run in the opposite direction. There really could be too much of a good thing.

She snapped a picture, then finished packing everything into the box. A quick tape job before she affixed the label, and she was done.

Despite their odd proportions, she did love taking special requests. There was something fun and creative about working on a product for a specific client, a challenge that her mass-produced items lacked.

And, yes, so maybe making sex toys wasn’t the creativity most people would picture when they thought about artists, but what did that matter?

She’d found a niche that paid well, that she enjoyed and that she’d found success in.

Not that anyone knows…

She thought about her mother, about the absolute horror that would show on her face if she ever discovered Jennifer’s real job.

Nope. Let her think I just rent out the rooms of my house.

Whatever it took to keep her family off her back was fine by her. Managing them was a full-time job on its own.

Jennifer’s ringtone had her leaving her newly sealed package on the living room table and rushing to answer her phone.

“I think we should try online dating,” Mandy said, mid-conversation as she always was, as if Jennifer hadn’t really needed to answer for the talk to go exactly the same way.

“I don’t think so.”

“Come on. You haven’t been on a date in, like, a year. Don’t you think it’s time?”

“What’s the point?”

“How about sex? Forever love? Sex? A partner? Did I mention sex?”

Jennifer leaned her hip against the stool at the counter. Love wasn’t something she really believed in anymore, and sex?

That was nothing the thing she’d just packed up couldn’t handle just fine.

Well, maybe not that box.

“Internet dating is for people who want to have a higher-than-average chance of being murdered,” Jennifer pointed out.

“It’s for people who don’t go out enough to meet anyone the old-fashioned way. I’ve tried to get you to go to bars, to go anywhere, and you refuse. At this point you’ve got two options—online or bar hopping with me.”

The thought of bar hopping with Mandy made Jennifer instantly feel older than her twenty-eight years. While her friend might be a bundle of uncontainable energy, Jennifer wasn’t.

“I don’t think it’s a good idea,” Jennifer said, ready to go into her hand-holding, sweet rejection that wouldn’t hurt Mandy’s feelings too much. Despite them being good friends, Mandy required a lot of work.

A ringing doorbell felt like a rescue, especially since it was loud enough that Mandy had to have heard. “Oh, I’m sorry, I’ve got to go.”

“You rang that yourself, didn’t you?”

Jennifer laughed, almost wishing she’d thought of that. “No, I didn’t. My renters are here.”

“Oh, right. You’re at full capacity for this week, aren’t you?”

“Yep. All three rooms booked together.” Jennifer had scanned the information first, as she always did. The three men were veterinarians and had the same hospital listed for employment. She liked hosting groups, because they tended to need her to entertain them less than singles.

“Well, if they’re hot, bring them to my place on Saturday night. I’m having a party.”

Jennifer groaned at the idea, having already decided that there was no way she’d be inviting them. Still, it was easier to smudge the truth. “Sure, if I think it’ll be their sort of thing. Got to go.”

They hung up, with Jennifer putting her phone back on the charger. She rushed to the front door, reaching it just after the doorbell rang a second time.

She expected to find three older men, the sort who wanted to get away for a few days. She’d hosted all sorts of people at her beach house, and much to Mandy’s lament, it was never young, hot guys.

Except this time…

On her porch stood three men who could have walked right out of any LA casting call.

Talk about tall, dark and handsome…

Jennifer stared so long that it took the one in front clearing his throat to bring her brain back online.

She smiled, trying to play it off as if it hadn’t just happened. “Sorry. Lucas, Brandon and Shane, right?”

The man in front nodded, though a soft chuckle said he’d caught her slip-up. “Yeah. I’m Lucas, in the jeans is Brandon and in the shorts is Shane.” He gestured behind him, letting Jennifer connect faces to the names she already knew.

Lucas had dark skin and even darker eyes. Stubble over his jaw had started to gray, but somehow it only made him more attractive. He wore a pair of slacks and a tucked-in white polo shirt. His hair was trimmed short and neat, and his smile could melt an iceberg.

Brandon wore faded blue jeans and a T-shirt, his dark hair short and simple, as if he hated going to the barber so always picked the easiest option. He had brown eyes too, but while Lucas’ were oak, Brandon’s were honey.

Lastly, Shane had pale skin and reminded her of a college kid. He had his hair shaved at the sides and messy on top, and the bluest eyes that held an unusual humor to them. He reminded her of Mandy a bit, with that same frantic energy inside him.

Lucas cleared his throat again, and she didn’t bother to hide her mortification. Jennifer had rented out rooms in her house for the past six years—why was she acting as if these were the first good-looking men she’d ever seen?

Probably because they’re the first you’ve been this close to in a long time.

She could almost hear Mandy piping in, telling her to pick one and make a claim.

“Come on in,” she said, trying for casual and to pretend that she hadn’t been staring at them. “You’re veterinarians, right?”

Work was always a safe conversation.

Lucas carried in his bag, the others behind him. “Yeah. We run an animal hospital. Brandon handles livestock and large animals, Shane does most of the day-to-day visits and treatments and I’m the surgeon.”

Well, that explained a bit of Lucas’ I’ve got things under control attitude. While any sort of medicine took confidence, actually cutting into any living being to fix them required a calmness and steadiness that Jennifer sure didn’t have.

When they followed her into her living room, she realized that her house—which she had always thought of as rather large—was not nearly big enough for men of their size.

She led them into the kitchen, showed them where the coffee maker and fridge were, and explained the things she kept on hand. She went over the remotes to the television in the living room, showed them how to get the finicky latch on the back slider open, and the places to sit out back, overlooking the ocean. That was the big draw of renting a beach house.

It was why she could never imagine living anywhere else, either. There was something almost spiritual about waking up to the salt in the air and falling asleep to the gentle rhythm of the waves.

They said little as they went through her routine, taking in the details, not balking at any of her odd rules.

She’d found people often complained about them, thinking they were staying at some five-star resort and forgetting that when they booked a private home, they had to expect some idiosyncrasies.

Finally, they reached the middle floor, where the three main bedrooms sat. A single bathroom was shared between them, but since she didn’t use it, it would be somewhat private for them.

“You can decide who takes what,” she explained. “They’re mostly identical. The builder put all the rooms on the side facing the beach, so they all share a balcony that has stairs down to the beach, and they all have the same view. There’s a shower out back, too, to rinse off the sand. It isn’t fun to track that in.”

Lucas smiled, seeming the quickest to speak. Or maybe he just knew how stunning his smile was, so the group had designated him leader. “Thank you, Jennifer. It looks perfect.”

She tried to tuck her hands into her pockets until she recalled she’d worn leggings, which some idiot had decided didn’t get pockets. “I can make a run to the store tomorrow, and I usually try to pick up a few things for whoever is here. There’s a list on the fridge, so just jot down anything you’d like. I make dinner a lot of nights, and I always make too much, so if you ever feel like staying in, you’re welcome.”

Lucas nodded. “I think tonight we’re going to go out, try something new. Any suggestions?”

“Well, what are you looking for? Quick and local, fancy?”

“Local is more our style.”

Jennifer listed off a few places, all small ones that might not make the list for fanciest but had the best food.

The men thanked her before picking their rooms and leaving her to stare at the end of the hallway.

Mandy’s words ran in her head, and the temptation to give in was so strong, she took a step backward.

Nope. Sleeping with men who were only in town for a week was a very stupid idea, and the fact that she’d even considered it meant Mandy was right. Jennifer had gone far too long without a man.

So instead, she gave in and messaged Mandy.

Okay, set up the date.

About the AuthorJayce Carter lives in Southern California with her husband and two spawns. She originally wanted to take over the world but realized that would require wearing pants. This led her to choosing writing, a completely pants-free occupation. She has a fear of heights yet rock climbs for fun and enjoys making up excuses for not going out and socializing. You can learn more about her at her website.

First for Romance | Website | Goodreads

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Against a Rising Tide by Samantha Cayto – Spotlight and Giveaway

July 5, 2021 By Leave a Comment

Long and Short Reviews welcomes Samantha Cayto who is celebrating the recent release of Against a Rising Tide. Enter to win a fabulous gift package and get a FREE eBook from the author!

Love always finds a way.

Scott, a Navy SEAL, returns to his childhood beach house to deal with the emotional trauma of his latest mission. When a sniper killed his closest friend, Scott was left dealing with survivor’s guilt and the disturbing feeling that his friend meant more to him. He has always identified as strictly straight, attraction to men being something he has ruthlessly suppressed.

When he finds Kitt, a friend of his sister’s, hiding out from his abusive boyfriend, Scott is once again drawn to someone of his own gender. Although annoyed at the intrusion, Scott also instantly develops an interest in his unwanted houseguest. Keeping his distance is proving to be impossible and his growing desire for Kitt cannot be ignored.

Forced to leave home, Kitt entered into a relationship with a man who turned abusive. Having finally found the courage to escape, the last thing he wants or needs is another alpha male invading his space. But having nowhere else to go, he ends up staying with a man who disturbs him in more ways than one. As scary as the SEAL is, Scott is exactly the type of man Kitt dreams about.

The beach house is small, and the two men cannot avoid one another or the attraction between them. With each passing day, their bond grows stronger. Hesitation slowly gives way to passion. They need to trust their feelings and let go of the things that frighten them, to find safety and solace in each other.

Reader advisory: This book contains scenes of violence, attempted murder, stalking, PTSD and references to death in a war zone, abusive parents and relationship abuse.

Enjoy an Excerpt

By the time Scott reached the beach house, visions of falling face-down in his bed swam before his eyes. He really should have checked into one of the airport hotels for the night instead of renting a car and heading north. But the driving need for solitude had overridden his better judgment. Even arriving in Boston at o-dark-thirty hadn’t thinned the crowds of people enough to satisfy his jangled nerves. He needed quiet and the mental space that came from being utterly alone to get his head screwed back on right. Otherwise, his time in the SEAL Teams would come to an end. The mere thought of having to leave his Naval career was intolerable to him.

He took a moment as he exited his rental SUV to simply stand and stare out over the ocean. The sun was just rising above the rippling blue-green water, washing the horizon in tones of red and orange. Seagulls screeched in their staccato fashion, as if they were in a constant state of agitation. He welcomed the familiar sound of their mindless scolding. The crash of waves against the rocky shore told him the tide was coming in. He took in a deep breath of salty air tinged with a hint of clam flats and smiled. All the joy of his childhood filled the aching hole that had formed in the middle of his chest. Coming here had been the right call. This was where he needed to be.

His exhaustion momentarily abated, Scott grabbed his duffel bag from the back of the SUV and walked up the stone path to the front door. There was no need to lock his vehicle, not in the low-crime town of Sewall, Massachusetts. It was barely more than a spit of rocky land and had never developed the cachet of its neighbors like Rockport as a fashionable seaside town. It attracted no one other than the dedicated perennial vacationer and was the perfect place to hide away for a while without fear of disturbance. His sister wouldn’t haul her brood up from the suburbs of Boston until August. He could be sure of having the place all to himself…to be alone.

Safe.

No, where had that thought come from? He was a SEAL, for God’s sake. There was nowhere on Earth that he didn’t feel as if he could protect himself. And he understood better than most that death was always lurking around, regardless. One only had to be ready to face it. Defeat it. If necessary, accept it when options had truly run out, but only after fighting to the very last breath. He took in another deep lungful of brisk ocean air with that last thought, irritated at his dark, almost defeatist attitude.

I need sleep. That’s all.

Scott almost sprinted to the seafoam green door, fumbled with the keys to open it and stepped inside the cool, quiet house of his childhood…that was not empty.

He froze inside the doorway and stared at the vision that greeted him. His mind did all kinds of acrobatics as he tried to make sense of what he saw. With the open floorplan of the first floor, he had a clear view of a naked woman standing in the kitchen. She was reaching up to a shelf filled with bowls, her toned arm stretched high. A curtain of long, dark hair swung below her shoulder blades, catching his attention. He followed the movement past the tapered ends, down a slender back of creamy skin accentuated by some kind of colorful tramp-stamp.

The tattoo skimmed a high, tight ass that held his gaze like a magnet. His overtired brain popped and snapped with a sudden spark of need. As exhausted as he was, his body came alive, desire shooting through him to pool in his groin. Even as an involuntary grunt passed his lips, the more rational part of his mind took over. It was trying to put on the brakes because something was off. The woman’s hips were too straight, and her shoulders were a bit broad. As the pieces clicked into place, the beach house inhabitant whirled around with a sharp inhalation. Now, the cock and balls of the man came literally swinging into view.

Scott’s own cock was caught between hardening and deflating again. He could feel it waging a war inside his worn jeans for a few seconds before it gave up in a semi-hard state that he ignored. Nothing to see here, folks. It was the other man’s reaction that caught and held his focus. Across the large expanse, there was visible fear in the dark eyes staring back at him. And the guy did nothing to hide his genitals. Instead, one hand had flown to the base of his throat in a clear defensive gesture. He whipped the other up to hold against his left cheek. But the quickness of the move hadn’t stopped Scott from seeing a livid bruise that marred the pretty skin there.

“Who?” The young man blinked at him for a few seconds, breathing quickly, before he visibly relaxed. “Oh, you’re Karen’s brother, aren’t you?” Although he dropped the one hand from his throat, he didn’t let go of his cheek entirely. Instead, he carded his fingers through his hair, letting the strands hide that half of his face. “She said you were overseas.”

“I was.” Scott stepped fully into the house and shut the door behind him before setting his duffel on the floor. He was careful to keep his movements slow. He’d dealt with petrified villagers plenty of times and knew he had to prove that he wasn’t a danger to them. Build trust. While he was at a loss as to why exactly, he could sense this man needed the same kind of consideration.

“I just got back and have two weeks’ leave.” Not that it had been his idea.

“Take the time, Carpenter. There’s no shame in needing it after what you’ve been through.”

“Yes, sir.”

He’d known an order when he’d been given one, but he still felt some guilt about lying around on a beach while others were out there fighting on his behalf. He pushed those thoughts aside to deal with the more pressing matter. Before he could ask the who, what and why, the naked man was talking again.

“I guess Karen didn’t know that. She said I could stay here until she comes up with her kids.” He dropped his gaze, while still tugging at his hair in nervous fashion.

Scott approached the kitchen area, again keeping his movements slow and non-threatening. “I was going to call her later.” He stopped and hooked his thumbs in his front pockets. “I’m sorry. You have me at a disadvantage. Do I know you?”

The young man flashed his gaze at him before skittering it away. Now that he was closer, Scott could see that his eyes weren’t entirely brown. There was a hint of green there as well. Hazel, he supposed, although he’d never given much thought to eye color before. He forced himself to focus on them, however, because the alternative was to stare farther south. There was a temptation to sneak peeks at parts of the man’s body. He’d always studiously avoided that urge before. He saw more naked men than he did women, that was for sure, and in a military environment where privacy was non-existent, one had to be respectful. Inside a quaint New England house, with the muted dawn shining through the window, making everything soft and almost romantic, the nudity was harder to ignore.

“I’m Kitt Tyler.”

Scott’s attention was tugged back to Kitt’s face—although really, to his lips. He couldn’t help noticing how plump and pink they were. ‘Generous’ was the word that came to mind, like those of old-time movie starlets—the type of mouth that combat men dreamed of kissing as they lay in their makeshift beds. It was what got them up again, fighting for their country. That observation startled him even more. What the hell is my problem? Exhaustion, that was all. What he needed was a solid eight horizontal hours uninterrupted, and that wasn’t going to happen until he wrapped up this unexpected meet-and-greet.

“You’re a friend of Karen’s?” Kind of a dumb question.

Kitt gnawed briefly at his lower lip, once again drawing Scott’s unwilling attention to that spot. “Yeah, I am, but also her hairdresser. I mean, that’s how we first met, and we’ve become friends, too. You know?”

No, Scott didn’t…at all. The last thing he and his sister ever talked about was hair styling, although she always looked great. He knew that she prided herself on being elegant and fashionable for her job as a publisher for some glossy, high-end magazine. She had him on her subscription list, which was sweet, except it all went straight into his trash. What did he care about trendy places to eat in Boston and the best store for thousand-thread-count sheets?

“Anyway,” the guy continued, still playing with his hair and darting his gaze around. “She has like a million pictures of you at home, so I recognized you straight off.”

Not exactly true. For a moment, when he’d turned and caught sight of Scott, Kitt had obviously been afraid. Of what? Scott wondered. Or rather…whom?

Scott ran a hand over his head. The need for sleep was overtaking his initial and visceral reaction to this unexpected guest. “I’m sure she’s bored you to tears with stories about me, too.” His sister was proud of his service, although he feared that she’d put him on a pedestal he didn’t deserve, certainly not after this last deployment.

A ghost of a smile graced Kitt’s lips. That was the moment when it hit Scott that this young man was utterly gorgeous—at a he-could-be-a-model level. Although, he was probably too short for that profession. He was about five-seven, just the right height to tuck into Scott’s shoulder. The new observations sent his brain into another unwanted spasm of discord.

“She has a bit, but I think it’s great how close you two are.” Releasing his hold on his hair, Kitt fluttered his hands and shifted his feet. “Anyway, I’ll pack up and get out of your way. It, um, might take a while for me to get a Lyft driver to come here this early, though. I hope that’s okay.”

“You don’t have a car?” Another stupid question. The driveway had been empty when he’d pulled up.

“No. Um, no.” Kitt stared at the floor again.

Scott could see the distress in the guy’s posture and read it in his expression. He knew when someone was afraid, nervous or angry, even when they tried to hide it from him. He could tell when they were lying about something. Kitt Tyler wasn’t merely a friend of his sister who needed a free summer vacation. There was more to it than that, and given the guy’s skittishness and that bruise on his cheek, Scott could make an educated guess what that more was.

For the moment, however, he was incapable of any further rational thought. He needed that eight hours, then he’d deal with the situation.

“Look,” he said, repressing a yawn. “I’ve been awake for over forty-eight hours straight. I’m going upstairs to get some sleep. No need for you to leave yet. We’ll talk later.”

Kitt’s relief was easy to see. Still, he said, “Are you sure?”

“Absolutely.” Scott turned to retrieve his duffel bag from by the door.

“Oh, I should get dressed now so that I don’t disturb you.”

Too late on that score. “I can sleep through anything, but thanks.”

He made himself not watch as Kitt flitted up the stairs. He didn’t rush when he followed, either, so that he wouldn’t see any more of that undeniably tantalizing flesh. His plan worked. By the time he’d reached the second floor, his sister’s guest had disappeared into the far back room. The sounds of a drawer opening and closing drifted down the narrow hallway. Scott bit back a groan when he realized that Kitt had taken his usual room. That thought had barely formed before the guy popped back out, wearing crotch-hugging cut-off jeans and a tight white crop top. The clothing wasn’t much better than the nudity had been at hiding the guy’s fit physique. Oh, and bonus, now that Scott wasn’t studiously averting his gaze, he could see a belly button ring winking from the flat stomach.

“I took one of the kid’s rooms, if that’s okay?” Kitt looked impossibly young himself. What was the minimum age to be a hairdresser, eighteen? The guy must be straight out of school.

Scott didn’t bother to correct him. Visions of Kitt lying in Scott’s bed were already creeping into his brain. Instead, he waved the issue away and turned into what had been his parents’ old room. Karen and her husband used it now, but she obviously wasn’t coming up any time soon. He may as well bed down in it. He kicked the door shut with more force than he’d intended, but the lure of the big brass bed was irresistible. Stumbling toward it, he did as he’d dreamed of for hours—fell face-down onto the quilt his grandmother had made. He had just enough brainpower left to kick off his sneakers before giving in to the pull of sleep.

His last thought, however, was of the pretty boy at the end of the hall, silhouetted by the glint of the rising sun.

About the Author Samantha Cayto is a Boston-area native who practices as a business lawyer by day while writing erotic romance at night—the steamier the better. She likes to push the envelope when it comes to writing about passion and is delighted other women agree that guy-on-guy sex is the hottest ever.

She lives a typical suburban life with her husband, three kids and four dogs. Her children don’t understand why they can’t read what she writes, but her husband is always willing to lend her a hand—and anything else—when she needs to choreograph a scene.

Website | Goodreads

Buy the book at your favorite online venue or First for Romance.

SAMANTHA CAYTO IS GIVING AWAY A $50.00 AMAZON GIFT CARD TO ONE LUCKY WINNER. ENTER HERE FOR YOUR CHANCE TO WIN AND GET A FREE SAMANTHA CATO ROMANCE BOOK! Notice: This competition ends on 13th July 2021 at 5pm GMT. Competition hosted by Totally Entwined Group.

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Destined Predator by Bailey Bradford

July 2, 2021 By Leave a Comment

Long and Short Reviews welcomes Bailey Bradford who is celebrating the recent release of Destined Predator, the second book in her Wild Ones series. Enter and get a FREE romance book from the author!

Never in his wildest dreams.

Rhett Tucker, a rough, tough, meat-and-potatoes Wyoming rancher, has just about accepted that shifters exist. His little brother Jack is now mated to one, Ben, whose family are the only coywolf—wolf-coyote hybrids—shifters in existence.

Rhett’s also accepted the fact that he’s gay, even if he’s never been with a guy. What he can’t deal with is Ben’s big brother, the swaggering, dominating, permanently smirking Casey. The head of the Akers pack might be their alpha, but he’s not Rhett’s and never will be.

Casey has never met a challenge he didn’t leap at, and he sure wants to jump the handsome rancher’s bones. He sees that under all the bluster, Rhett yearns to submit, and Casey’s more than happy to fulfil Rhett’s needs…when the stubborn man’s ready to admit to them.

But when both humans and coywolves are under attack, there’s no time for Rhett and Casey to do anything but join forces to find out if the inter-shifter battles are starting up again, or if the pack and the Double T Ranch are facing a new and deadly enemy.

One thing’s for sure—any relationship between Rhett and Casey is gonna be wild.

Enjoy an Excerpt

Man.

Rhett Tucker, co-owner and boss of Wyoming’s Double T ranch, stared at his reflection in the shaving mirror.

He bobbed down to his right, so his face showed in the corner with the splintered crack. He blinked, then studied his altered image, seeing his strong jaw elongated to exaggerated proportions and, when he ducked lower still, how his hazel eyes fractured and his short dark hair looked long and bushy, like a pelt.

Monster.

No. That wasn’t right. Wasn’t fair.

Beast.

He closed his eyes, but it didn’t stop him seeing beasts, the coyote and wolf shifters who’d fought a turf war on Double T land, or the biggest beast of all of them, the one his foreman Ernesto had turned into. A terrifying, giant wolf-demon hybrid out of a nightmare who’d slayed and slaughtered—

Nope, not going there. Tucker bent from the mirror to the sink so he could scoop water onto his face, splashing at any leftover shaving foam then patting with a towel to remove the last traces. He even wiped behind his ears and wriggled the corner of the towel into them, first one, then the other.

Go with cologne? He did have a bottle, and it was a scent he liked, but it’d been a present from his ex-girlfriend, Olivia, and it felt plain wrong to wear it on a date with someone else.
Rhett straightened his shirt—he should have ironed it. “Bathroom steam never works,” he reminded himself, needing to fill the silence. The sound of his voice didn’t work to plug the gap, and he circled back to what had been consuming him since he’d found out…that shifters existed.

He prided himself on being a plain-thinking rancher like his father, one who believed in what he could see and touch, like his land, or his cattle. And now, that included people who turned into animals. Who were animals. Some were murderous, terrifying monsters, and some were, if not angels, then more on the side of good as they went about their lives. Oh, and his brother had fallen hard and fast for one.

And if I can’t handle that, I’ll lose my little brother.

The thought of losing Jack made Rhett’s hands tremble as he tossed the wet towels into the hamper. His chest seized, making him sit on the edge of the tub to catch his breath. He’d accept anything he had to if it meant keeping Jack in his life. They’d only just started growing closer as brothers recently, when Jack had come home after years of them barely staying in touch because he’d lived and worked in New York City. Rhett wasn’t going to mess up again and let Jack get hurt—not by him, and not by anyone else.

I won’t fail him this time, like I did before because I didn’t want to tell him the truth about myself. Because I didn’t want to accept it, either.

Before he could continue his silent castigation, laughter rang out in the hallway, and the bright, joyful sound went a long way to drowning Rhett’s fears.

Hearing Jack so happy was worth anything. Even the scariest monsters in the world couldn’t have kept Rhett from leaving the bathroom so he could see his brother smiling, eyes crinkled at the corners, his mouth in a wide grin, arms around his boyfriend, Ben. Ben the coywolf shifter.

It didn’t matter if Ben was a shifter, not when he was looking at Jack the same way Jack looked at him. Only thing I can do is plow through my fears—or bury ’em as deep as possible. Jack deserved that, and maybe, although Rhett didn’t know him well, Ben did, too. That was what he wanted to believe, anyhow.

“Hey, Rhett.” Ben gave him a nod before pulling a face at Jack. “Oh, what’s your brother gonna think, huh? Him all neat and tidy like that and look at you, with your JBF’d hair.” He knuckled into Jack’s messy head.

Jack snorted and wiggled his butt. “I’ve got a JBF’d something all right, and it isn’t my hair.”

“Jacky-boy, behave!” Ben pretended to fan himself. “You’ll have your big brother blushing.”

“Maybe you should be the one blushing,” Rhett replied, standing his ground as he always did, even in this new situation. “If it’s done right, ya can’t walk for days, and here’s Jack looking ready to go line dancing at Bard’s Saloon, so…” He looked Ben up and down, pursing his lips in concern as fake as Ben’s shock of a moment ago. “I’d hate to think you weren’t treating Jack right.”

“Hey!” Ben’s indignation sounded more genuine now, and he pouted when Jack started chuckling, glared when Rhett sniggered too, then joined in.

Rhett didn’t know which of them laughed the loudest, but by the time he’d gotten his amusement under control, his sides ached, and he was shaking his head. “Aw, man. Y’all are something else.” He went to walk off.

“Rhett.”

Jack calling his name stopped him. “You doing okay there?” Jack asked. They might not have been close in recent years, but they’d grown up together and each was hard to fool.

“I…” Rhett chewed on his bottom lip a second. “Got some stuff spinning my gears up here.” He tapped his head.

Ben gave him a cool look from where he stood so close to Jack that Rhett couldn’t have swiped a credit card between them. “Stuff like wanting reality to go back to the way it used to be?”

As life should be for a solid, no-frills Wyoming son of the soil who didn’t believe in mumbo-jumbo. Well, that was the question he’d already answered for himself before he’d left the bathroom. Rhett hitched his thumbs through his belt loops and tipped his head back to look down at Ben, slow and easy. “I wouldn’t change anything about this world that makes my brother light up like he does around you.”

“Aww.” Jack’s eyes teared up and he hugged Rhett and, after a second, another pair of arms snaked around them—Ben joining in, too. It took a few seconds, but Rhett relaxed into the group huddle. Well now. How ’bout that.

Ben was the first to pull away. “I have to go. We got a pack run scheduled.”

“Can’t keep your alpha waiting,” Jack replied.

“Yeah, just like your big brother’s word is law too.” Ben wrapped a hand around Jack’s neck to bring him in for a smacking kiss. He slapped Jack’s ass then strolled down the short corridor to the front door, touching the first two fingers of his right hand to his forehead in salute as he went.

The lame joke barely registered with Rhett. His mind was busy thinking about Ben’s oldest brother and alpha of the Akers coywolf pack. Casey. That perma-smirking, cocky, swaggering— Taking in a deep breath, Rhett wrenched himself back to the here and now.

“Hate to see you go, but I love to watch you leave,” Jack called after Ben, tilting his head to take in Ben’s rear view, then laughing when Ben slapped his own ass and made a sizzling noise.
Ben didn’t close the door properly after him—Rhett had been meaning to plane it a little smoother, to stop it sticking—so Rhett walked over, intending to close it. Instead, he pushed the door open wider to get some air, never mind that he’d been outdoors all day. Jack joined him, leaning against the other side of the jamb like they were bookends.

“You really okay?” he asked, side-eyeing Rhett. “’S’okay not to be, after all…that.”

“That,” Rhett echoed, looking out over Double T land. “’S’funny—when I run into something new to handle on the ranch, I ask myself, ‘What would Pa do?’ and I usually find the answer, the way forward, you know? Only for ‘that’, well, I got no idea what he would do.”

“I didn’t know him as well as you did,” Jack replied, his words coming slowly. “And I guess I’ve learned more about him since coming back, if not from you, then from people’s stories and memories, here or in town. But I don’t think he’d have known what to do if he discovered shifters existed and that his younger son is destined mate to one of ’em.”

“Y’all might jus’ have the right of it there, son,” said Rhett, his impersonation of Chauncey Tucker’s measured, guarded speech so accurate that it set them both laughing again.

Jack twisted around and took one of the framed photos off the hall table. “I swear, you hold this up in front of your face when you do that, we’d fool anyone he’s still around!”

“Ah reckon we abou’ might,” Rhett couldn’t resist saying, Chauncey-style, as he took the picture to return it to the table. He studied it. He looked like Chauncey—no-time-to-fuss short dark hair and a big and burly frame, although his eyes were a hazel blend of his pa’s brown and his mom’s green—and was like him, too, in his focus on the ranch and the land.
“I’m more like Mom.” Jack followed Rhett’s line of sight to where the portrait of Lorraine Channing Tucker gazed down at them from the wall.

True, he had her large, dark-lashed green eyes and more delicate bone structure. Lorraine had been a beauty, with her high cheekbones and wide, full mouth, and Jack shared those, too.

Jack had always liked the formal-looking painting of Mom, in a silk evening dress she rarely had occasion to wear. Remembering how as a kid, Jack had used to exclaim “Portrait pose!” whenever Mom happened to be half-turned away and looking back at him, the same position she’d been put into for her painting, made Rhett laugh.

Seeing the expression Jack wore now, as he gazed at one of the last photos of Chauncey and Lorraine together on their wedding anniversary, Rhett knew he was wishing he’d been able to tell them he was gay. Jack had spoken of it before.

“Hey.” He got his younger brother’s attention. “I reckon they’d be glad you found someone. I know I am. And I’ll say it one more time for the folks at the back—there’s always a place for you here at the Double T. Heck, you own half the Double T!”

“Even if I know more about ranch dressing than ranch work?”

“Thought you worked in an office in New York City, not a restaurant. Like, publishing, not fast food?” Rhett joked. “And you know, that’s something we could think about. I was wondering about getting the admin side of things more up to date here— Oh, sure, go ahead. Laugh it up, kid.”

“’S’hard not to, when I think what passes for a ‘system’ in that home office back there!” Jack wiped his eyes. “If it’s Monday, you move the pile of papers to the back of the desk. Tuesday, to the table beside the desk. Wednesday, the chair halfway between the table and the filing cabinet. And by Friday—”

“By Friday I’m kicking your ass.” Rhett grinned, too.

“Tryin’ to.” Jack folded his arms. “But yeah, the office processes need streamlining. And not just the office. I got interested in data management—well, data science, or even data technology, really—and I’ve been havin’ some ideas for using it for the cattle, too.”

“That so? Like what? Putting a jumbotron in the far pasture to show the herd movies? Or giving each cow a cell phone, get ’em to take selfies, maybe set ’em up with an Instagram account? You wanna solve our ‘social media problem’ that way?” Rhett bent to see in the mirror, to give a final brush to his hair, and raised an eyebrow at his brother’s reflection behind him.

“Hey, neat idea—pretty pictures of cows in costumes and us dressed as cowboys in chaps… Hmm…” Jack couldn’t keep up the joke. “No. Tagging each cow with an electronic ID that stores all their info, to make herd management more efficient. It’s just something I was reading about.” Jack looked from the carriage clock on the hall table to his watch. “Hey. You wouldn’t be stalling there, would you, big bro? Seeing as how tonight’s your first date…with a guy?”

“No.” Rhett tweaked his sheepskin jacket from the coat stand and put it on. “I’m ready, see?” Well, he was the ‘dressed clean and tidy’ part of ready, and hoping to meet a nice guy, even if he didn’t think he’d ever be ‘ready’ for it.

“It’s a big step.” Jack nodded. “You want some pointers, bro?”

“Jack, I never wanna see your pointer. Ev-er,” Rhett emphasized, quitting the house. He was glad Jack walked him to his truck, although he could have done without the “Make me proud!” and “Make it happen!” that his one-hundred-percent certified brat of a little brother hollered after him as he drove away.

Rhett fiddled with the radio, getting it to his favorite classic rock station in time to catch a group suggesting he “take it easy”. Good advice. That was followed by “one for the oldies,” a classic country song telling him to “be a man”. He was—if facing up to being gay and wanting to be with a man counted.

Well, even if it didn’t and it wasn’t what the singer or songwriter had in mind, Rhett was off to Bard’s Saloon for his first-ever date with a guy, and one who was more experienced than him, better-looking than him and more take-charge than him.

A smug, bossy alpha, all long legs, wide shoulders and overlong wavy hair, strutted into his mind’s eye, and Rhett turned up the music to wipe him out. Well, ready or not, here I come.

About the Author:A native Texan, Bailey spends her days spinning stories around in her head, which has contributed to more than one incident of tripping over her own feet. Evenings are reserved for pounding away at the keyboard, as are early morning hours. Sleep? Doesn’t happen much. Writing is too much fun, and there are too many characters bouncing about, tapping on Bailey’s brain demanding to be let out.

Caffeine and chocolate are permanent fixtures in Bailey’s office and are never far from hand at any given time. Removing either of those necessities from Bailey’s presence can result in what is known as A Very, Very Scary Bailey and is not advised under any circumstances.

Goodreads | First for Romance author page

Buy the book at your favorite online venue or First for Romance.

BAILEY BRADFORD IS GIVING AWAY THIS FABULOUS PRIZE TO ONE LUCKY WINNER. ENTER HERE FOR YOUR CHANCE TO WIN A LOVELY GIFT PACKAGE AND YOUR FREE BAILEY BRADFORD ROMANCE BOOK! Notice: This competition ends on 13th July 2021 at 5pm GMT. Competition hosted by Totally Entwined Group.

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Lie by Deana Birch – Spotlight and Giveaway

July 1, 2021 By Leave a Comment

Long and Short Reviews welcomes Deana Birtch who is celebrating the recent release of Lie, the third book in the Covington Heights Crew series. Enter to win a fabulous gift package and get a FREE eBook from the author!

Piercing lies lead to brutal betrayals.

One bullet has taken everything from Anton Myers. Everything… His crew, his livelihood and any ounce of loyalty from his friends are all gone thanks to a tiny piece of lead. With no purpose and his mother pushing him into a lifestyle he never wanted, he’s the perfect storm of defiance and deceit.

Samantha Powers is a damn good liar. She can bend facts, sell half-truths, omit details and sugarcoat answers better than anyone in the city. She’s also the kind of woman who can motivate warriors to transcend into kings—and that’s exactly what she wants to do.

Their fast-paced relationship—fueled by raw lust and questionable motives—threatens Samantha’s credibility while Anton’s world crumbles around him. As an undeniable fact surfaces that could ruin them both, the only way out of their web of lies is a devastating truth.

Reader advisory: This book deals with drug use, cancer and the death of a parent. It may be best read as part of a series.

Enjoy an Excerpt

The ventilator rose like a stretched-out accordion then folded back down, forcing air into Anton Myers’ injured lungs. The beep, beep, beep of his heart rate was probably the only thing comforting his mother, who sat next to his hospital bed stroking her thumb over his battered knuckles.

In the few months that I’d gotten to know Sophia Myers, I’d learned that her strength and will far exceeded her tiny frame. Even in the face of tragedy, she was immaculately groomed and flawlessly presentable. She was cold, hard and serious. I admired her.

I stepped closer to the bed. With his eerie eyes closed, Anton’s power or anger or whatever it was that motivated him was less evident. He was just a shell of a man with a tube down his throat and an IV in his hand. It was as if his dangerous draw had floated away.

The sterile odor of alcohol lingered in the air from the hand sanitizer that the nurse had used when she’d checked his vitals minutes prior, and it only added to the cold room. Somehow, the orderly environment suited Sophia. Baking cookies and an apron sure didn’t.

My phone vibrated and I flipped my wrist to check the text message.

Shit.

Someone had leaked the shooting to the press. It had already been hard enough to smooth over Sophia’s questionable past when my boss—the mayor of the city—had decided to marry her. But this? His new stepson involved in a gang-related shooting? It was a public relations nightmare.

My phone vibrated again, this time with Mayor Demsey’s name.

Sophia glanced at me as if she understood, and before I turned to walk out of the door, I offered her a tight, sympathetic smile. No matter what her past, I wouldn’t want her present.

I swiped the screen to answer, but instead of saying hello, I said, “I just saw. I’m leaving the hospital now.”

“Who the fuck would have leaked this?” Demsey yelled through the small speaker. His scratchy voice revealed his Long Island accent. The crass demeanor that came out when he was pissed was one of the few things he managed to keep hidden from the public.

His question was logical, but the answer was irrelevant. Lucky for my boss, I’d already played the game of ‘worst-case scenario’ over and over in my head for the previous twenty-four hours.

“I’ll call a presser and get in front of this. We can spin it. I’ll say he was robbed. In the meantime, avoid reporters. And don’t you dare ass-dial Mitch from The Times like you did last week. In fact, put your phone in your drawer once you hang up with me.” My heels clicked down the hall of the private hospital at a rhythmic pace. At the nurse’s station, an older, handsome man smiled at me and I rolled my eyes once I’d passed him. Unwanted flirty smiles from men always jabbed at a button in me that said because I was pretty, my intelligence was underestimated. That particular gentleman had ‘man-splainer’ written in bold above his raised eyebrows.

“Sam?” Demsey asked in a softer tone. “Don’t forget to call the chief and tell him what you’re going to say so we have a consistent message. Jack likes you way more than he does me, so it will be better… Actually, swing by to see him on your way back to the office. He’ll appreciate the personal touch.”

“On it.” The elevator doors rattled open. “Make this easy for me and keep your mouth shut, boss.” I swiped my phone off. It wasn’t that I didn’t like Demsey or his new family, because I did. He’d taken a chance on me as his spokesperson when I hadn’t exactly had a long list of celebrity clients banging down the door of my small public relations firm.

Before agreeing to the job, I’d heard about Demsey and his taste for the corrupt, but it didn’t bother me. I’d learned over the years that the line between flat-out lying to the public or dressing up facts to make whatever bad thing seem good was pretty damn blurry. My job depended on how I massaged the truth. Being one hundred percent honest was the only thing I was sure I’d never do.

It didn’t matter if I lied. It was how much.

Outside, I hailed a cab, and we battled the downtown traffic until I was at police headquarters. I flashed my identification badge at security and stepped through the metal detector. On the third floor, I smiled to the uniformed officers as I made my way through their cubicles to the corner office of Police Chief Jack Galaway.

Jack’s eyes were closed and he pinched the bridge of his nose with the phone against his ear. I wrapped my knuckles lightly on his door, causing him to look up. His frown switched to an easy grin and he waved me in.

I took the empty chair to the right and sat patiently as he ‘mmhmm-ed’ his way through the rest of the call. He spun his finger around in the universal sign that indicated he wanted the other person to wrap it up already, and I crossed my hands in my lap.

The walls of his office were lined with plaques and certificates with gold seals. Jack was a family man but specifically kept any sign of his personal life to himself. We’d never really believed in small talk. We were both direct in the interest of time, but I did know that he’d married his high-school sweetheart and he had two sons, both of whom were on the force. He was a good man, as good as he could be while he navigated a system and city that favored the depraved.

“Jesus, Mary and Joseph,” he said when he’d hung up. “Why can’t my guys keep their dicks in their pants?” Jack frowned and the wrinkles in his clean-shaven face deepened. “You don’t look like you have good news either. Spit it out.”

“Anton Myers was shot two nights ago.” I re-crossed my ankles, and the movement caught his eyes. He liked to tease me about my shoe addiction. I was wearing a new pair of black heels and their red souls matched my red dress. Much like Sophia Myers, I, too, took a lot of care in how I presented myself. I never showed cleavage, my skirts always hit just above my knees and my nails were perfectly groomed and color-free. I wore makeup but it was subtle. My lips only saw red on Christmas or for parties.

Jack leaned back into his massive leather chair and swiveled. “First I’ve heard of it.”

“It was”—I shrugged and scrunched my nose—“cleaned up. But it’s about to break in the news. I’m going to do a presser this afternoon and claim he was robbed at gunpoint.”

He shook his head. “That’s bad for me.”

I knew Jack wouldn’t like my plan. It would be another unsolved crime and feed fear to the public, but that wouldn’t stop me. Plus, I knew the chief of police was a tit-for-tat kind of man.

“It will be good for your budget.” I stood and flattened out my dress. “You can refer all press to the mayor’s office.”

“Gee, thanks.”

Jack’s desk phone rang, and I headed for the door. “Hey, Sammie?”

I turned around. He had the receiver pressed into his chest under his badge.

“You may want to consider someone like Anton Myers would prefer the truth to your spin. You’re about to make one of the most dangerous gang members in our city a victim. He’s not going to like that—and neither will his crew.”

I gave exactly zero fucks about what Anton Myers would or wouldn’t like. I worked for the mayor, not him. Sophia had warned him to lie low. Getting shot by a rival gang? Not exactly my idea of exceeding his mother’s expectations. And his crew? There was nothing left of it. Any loyalty they’d had for their leader had been wiped away the second he’d fallen. Sophia had spoken to one of them and forbidden them from returning to their neighborhood, effectively disbanding the entire gang.

“Well, fortunately for me he’s mute and in a hospital bed. He doesn’t have a choice.” But the confidence in my voice wavered just a little. “I’ll email Debbie my statement before I go out.”

He nodded then barked, “What now?” into the phone. On the way down to the lobby, I mulled over his advice. So what if Anton woke up and was pissed about how I’d handled things? His life as he knew it was over. His mother had assured it. But the chief had a point. I could cut out the ‘robbed’ part.

Once out of police headquarters, I dialed my assistant. “Hey, Fanny, can you let the press know that I’ll be making a statement with limited questions at three o’clock?” I crossed the street with the crowd, the blue-and-white police cars all around us. As I approached city hall, Mitch from The Times came into view. His signature checked shirt stood out like a flashing sign that read ‘pain in my ass’.

“I’ve already gotten calls from six reporters.” Fanny’s tone held a little bit of a question.

“I’m coming up now but stay on the line. Fucking Mitch is downstairs.” I held the phone tight to my ear. “Tell me anything. Read me a menu or recite a damn poem if you have to. He won’t let me walk by without pestering me.”

Fanny let out a small laugh. “So I met this girl at a bar last night…”

Mitch’s eyes lit up like the Fourth of July when he spotted me. I quickened my pace and shook my head as I pointed to the phone and said, “Super important call.”

Fanny continued, “We totally hit it off. I was laughing and having the time of my life. Then it hit me like a bulldozer. She had long blonde hair, sun-kissed skin and a banging body.”

I climbed the stairs of City Hall with Mitch at my heel. “I’m so sorry to hear that.”

Mitch spouted questions but I ignored them. At the top of the stairs, I opened the massive door. I just had to get through security then I would be home free.

Fanny continued in my ear. It wasn’t the first time we’d faked a phone call. “She looked exactly like you. It freaked me out so hard that I literally stood straight up and walked out.”

“I’m at security. I’ll call you back.” I ended the call and placed my phone in a black plastic basket on the conveyor belt.

“Nice try,” Mitch said as he rolled his green eyes. “But my source tells me that Anton Myers was shot in the chest. Can you confirm?”

My job was to talk to the press. The cat was already out of the bag, and there was no putting its fuzzy ass back in. Information was fluid and it had to run both ways. Mitch was only doing his job, as annoying as it was. There were so many other things that he could have been reporting on. But sensationalizing the shooting of the mayor’s stepson was click bate and would get him seven more followers on social media. It would make his superiors happy, and if I just threw him a tiny crumb, he would stop.

I stepped toward the metal detector and set my shoulders. “I confirm.”

The crooked grin on Mitch’s face soured my stomach. “Thank you!” He spun around and left the building with a bit of pep in his step. Being the first one to get confirmation meant everyone else would use his story and say his name all day long.

I grabbed my phone, which was lighting up with notices of the confirmation I’d just given, and went upstairs to my office.

Fanny sat behind her immaculate desk and typed into her laptop. Her dark hair was down and her long bangs kissed the top of her eyebrows.

“Was that true? Did you fall for my doppelganger?” I walked over to our community fridge and grabbed a bottle of water.

“Sam…” She stopped typing and spun around on her chair to face me. “It was literally you. She even had great shoes. I may not recover from this.”

I grinned. The lighthearted banter was a refreshing break from my otherwise-stressful day. I stepped into my office and just before shutting the door deadpanned, “I think you have a crush on me.”

“Me and Mitch.”

“Eww.” I shivered, and when she faked offense, I said, “Not you…Mitch. Also, now that I think of it, maybe a little you too. You’re like my kid sister. Shame on you and your twisted mind, Fanny.” I tapped the door and forced an exhale out of my mouth. “Hold my calls. I have a statement to write.”

Three hours later, I stood at the mayor’s briefing podium with the statement that Demsey had approved and that I’d emailed to Debbie, the police chief’s assistant. I rubbed my lips together, spreading the freshly applied nude gloss even more, and waited for the room to fall silent. Three rows of reporters sat eagerly facing me as the local and national news cameras flanked the back and walls.

Showtime.

I adjusted the microphone and scanned the crowd of familiar faces. “Good afternoon. As I confirmed earlier, the mayor’s stepson, Anton Myers, was the victim of a shooting two nights ago. I’m happy to report that after a long touch-and-go surgery, he is resting and in stable condition. The mayor and his wife ask for your understanding for their need for privacy in this difficult time.”

The hands flew up for questions and I repeated my motto—reassure and deflect.

There were a few reporters I loathed less than others because I could always count on them to throw me a softball. I found one and called on her. “Stacey.”

“Thanks, Samantha. Do the police have any suspects? Do we know what happened?”

“As you know, I can’t comment on an ongoing investigation, but I have nothing but respect and confidence for our men and women in uniform.”

Mitch waggled his fingers and his eyes bulged. I skipped over him. Where was the guy from the local station who had winked at me the week before? Ah, yes. Middle center. “Steven.”

“Anton Myers is a convicted criminal. Was this gang-related?”

My throat tightened and I willed the heat in my chest to cool. “Ongoing investigation, but there’s no reason to start rumors about a man who was inches from losing his life.” I glared at Steven. He wouldn’t be getting called on again anytime soon.

Mitch was practically halfway out of his seat. Experience and poise kept my eyes from rolling.

“Mitch.”

“Thanks, Sam.”

Sam? Uh, no. It’s Samantha in this room, dipshit. We aren’t buddies.

He cleared his throat. “A source tells me that Anton was taken to the hospital by two men in suits and a gang member. Can you confirm?”

So his source was someone at the hospital. The director would be getting a massive earful from me…or Fanny. Fanny would actually be fantastic at bitching someone out. Then I could stay nice-ish.

“I don’t have those details, but I’ll try to find out and get back to you.” I closed my binder and addressed the room. “Listen, guys… I know it’s been a boring news week and we’re all a little hungry right now, but let’s not turn a victim of a violent crime into a criminal because he has some misdemeanors on his record from when he was barely eighteen.”

Someone scoffed but I wasn’t quick enough to catch who.

I narrowed my eyes, scolding them for their lack of empathy. “I’ll update you as soon as I can.” What I really meant was that I was going to brush this under the rug and try to get them to forget about it as soon as I could. That little nugget from Mitch about the men who’d brought him to the hospital was a nightmare for me and the police.

As I stepped away from the podium and exited the room, they all hollered questions at me—questions that weren’t that different from the ones ping-ponging in my own head. And with Anton still unconscious, I was walking the tightrope between what I could spin and what other information was out there.

Sophia had said she trusted the men who’d brought him in and that the rival gang had been “taken care of”. But it wasn’t the first-hand witnesses of the shooting who bothered me. It was the aftermath that had to be pieced together perfectly to sell a believable lie.

Fanny followed me down the corridor and it wasn’t until we were in our office that she said, “What the fuck is with the hospital?”

I paced in front of her desk. “Call them and take out all your sexual frustration on them. Fucking leaks.”

“On it.” She slid into her seat and wedged her phone between her ear and shoulder as she typed on her computer.

As much as listening to her would have been fun and I was sure I’d miss some fantastically creative insults, I needed silence to think. I closed the door to my office, only to have Sophia’s number pop up onto the screen of my phone.

“Hey, how is he?” I asked.

“He’s awake and…” Her calm tone was ominous. “Cranky. You’ve officially been summoned. He’s waiting—and not patiently either.”

Crap.

About the Author: Deana Birch was named after her father’s first love, who just so happened not to be her mother. Born and raised in the Midwest, she made stops in Los Angeles and New York before settling in Europe, where she lives with her own blue-eyed Happily Ever After. Her days are spent teaching yoga, playing tennis, ruining her children’s French homework, cleaning up dog vomit, writing her next book or reading someone else’s.

Website | First for Romance | Goodreads

Buy at your favorite online venue or First for Romance.

DEANA BIRCH IS GIVING AWAY THIS FABULOUS PRIZE TO ONE LUCKY WINNER. ENTER HERE FOR YOUR CHANCE TO WIN A LOVELY GIFT PACKAGE AND YOUR FREE DEANA BIRCH ROMANCE BOOK! Notice: This competition ends on 13th July 2021 at 5pm GMT. Competition hosted by Totally Entwined Group.

Filed Under: Erotic Romance, Guest Blogs Tagged With: ,
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