Strength to Let Go Blog Tour

Title: Strength to Let Go

Series: Tales of the Werewolf Tribes, Book One

Author: Alina Popescu

Genre: gay romance, paranormal, werewolves, paranormal romance, supernatural

Publisher: Wayward Ink Publishing

Synopsis

After being abandoned by his mates, Shiki Kirishima, beta of the Dragons of the Fang werewolf tribe, returns to his home in Tokyo.

Crippled by grief, Shiki decides to end it all by going into the territory of the Siberian Killers tribe and challenging them to a battle to the death.

His death.

Ganzorig, beta of the Siberian Killers, however, sees the potentially disastrous consequences of having Shiki die in battle.

Instead, he saves him.

Having suffered loss himself, Ganz takes it upon himself to help Shiki deal with his pain.

Blake, Shiki’s best friend since childhood, is as determined to show him there is life after a wolf’s ultimate loss.

Could there also be something ‘more’ for them after friendship?

Excerpt

The light in my room was on and I growled in warning as I walked past the windows, hoping Ganz would get the message and leave. No such luck, I realized, when I pushed my door open and saw him pacing the room. Leaving the door ajar, I walked in and started stripping. I needed to clean this whole fucked up night off and just get myself stupid drunk. Otherwise, there’d be no sleep for me. “Shiki, I am sorry I sprung that on you, but you needed to hear it.” “Shut up and get out,” I said, trying to keep my voice neutral. “Now, Ganz. Get out now!” He cringed as I got louder, but didn’t budge. With a shrug, I removed my boots and socks, then practically tore off my jacket and T-shirt. “Dimitri survived losing his mate, and he’s not the only one,” Ganz insisted, his voice barely audible. Running my hand through my hair, I turned to face him. “It’s not the fucking same thing! My mates are not dead. They are alive and kicking, thank you very much! They broke all bonds with me, yet I can still feel them. I’ve not lost them, they left. To me and my wolf, they are who we belong to.” He shook his head and took a step closer. “Don’t say anything else. You have no idea how this feels.” “Shiki, I don’t have to! I don’t need to have been burnt to know my skin will heal.” “Losing a mate is not a fucking flesh wound, you dumbass!” My breath hitched as I grabbed and squeezed the back rest of the one chair in my room. I feared letting go of it because I knew I might end up tearing the whole house apart. “It’s not, it just takes longer to heal.” “Ganz, I don’t care about the healing, I care about the loneliness I’d have to face for much longer than any other wolf. What the hell do you think drinking that much fae blood does? They are immortal, remember?” He placed a tentative hand on my shoulder and I promptly shook it off. “You could spend a huge chunk of that lifetime with the true love of your life, why would you want to waste it?” “Because the loves of my life don’t fucking want me. Wolves mate for life, remember? And even if you can move on after a mate’s death, mine are very much alive. They will never die!” “That’s nothing but semantics. They are gone, and you are stubbornly clinging to someone who clearly does not deserve you!” Before the words even sunk in, the aggression in them directed to the two I loved hit me head on. I snarled and pounced before I could even dream of stopping myself. In mere seconds, I had Ganz pinned against the wall, my right hand squeezing his throat and my hips keeping him in place. “Don’t you ever speak of them like that,” I snarled, watching as his eyes grew wide with both shock and the effort to breathe. He was fighting for air, but there was little of it getting through. “They are nothing but fucking morons for giving you up,” he whispered, struggling to push the words out. My grip locked tighter around his neck and I knew he’d soon pass out. I was looming over him, growling and staring him down, and right then my nostrils flared with a surprising aroma. Arousal. I gasped, my eyes widening as the scent permeated the air around me. My growl changed, a soft purr layering it, and I could feel my own dick stirring. No, that was impossible! Sure it had been a few weeks, but…. But what? Had I expected my body to stop working? I was a wolf, I should have known better.

“A future alpha who gets all hot and bothered when he’s being manhandled. That’s an interesting discovery.” I chuckled, going for mocking, but it turned out genuinely amused, maybe with a hint of surprise. “Yes, so? You seem to be equally turned on by manhandling this future alpha,” Ganz said, arching a brow. A smug smirk curled up half of his mouth and I could clearly see his pupils dilating. He was right, but it angered me that he was, so I squeezed harder and snarled. Ganz moaned, a long, drawn out sound, and pushed his hips forward, crushing his erection into my hip. “No, seriously, you like this?” Ganz placed his hand over mine and I loosened my hold enough for him to talk. “Yes, I like it. I like control over everything and everyone, except for fucking. Then I want someone else to bend me over.” He shrugged and looked away from me. “Do you imagine anyone here would dare do that? Humans respond to us naturally by submitting and… other supernaturals rarely interest me.” I nodded slowly, thinking the ways of his tribe, with their strict rules against foreign wolves, probably weren’t helping the situation much. A fresh wave of arousal hit me as my body crowded his, and I realized my rolling hips had taken the reins from me and were responding to his lust. Without trying to move my hand away, Ganz brushed his knuckles over my cheek, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear. His fingers trailed farther, playing on the back of my neck and making me groan. Putting a little pressure on it, he guided my lips to his. A soft brush turned into something fierce, with tongues and teeth clashing. I moved my hand higher, my chokehold tight around his jawline, and held him in place as I explored his mouth. I nudged his legs, spreading them wide, and stepped between them, pressing our throbbing cocks together. We both moaned at the contact and I could have sworn I felt his knees give out.

Book Trailer

Buy Links

Don’t miss the Tickle Me Pink sale on the Wayward Ink Publishing site – 25% off all list prices till July 21st.

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Giveaway

Prizes: $10 WIP Gift Card, 3 signed Bookmarks, and 1 ecopy of Strength to Let Go

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About the author

Writer, traveler, and coffee addict, Alina Popescu has been in love with books all her life. She started writing when she was ten and she has always been drawn to sci-fi, fantasy, and the supernatural realm. Born and raised in Romania, she finds her inspiration in books of all genres, in movies, and the occasional manga comic book. She is a proud geek who needs her fast Internet and gadgets more than she needs air.

Social Links

Site & Blog: http://alina-popescu.com

Facebook:  https://www.facebook.com/authoralinapopescu

Twitter: http://twitter.com/alina_popescu

Instagram: http://instagram.com/alinapopescuwriter

Goodreads:  https://www.goodreads.com/alina-popescu

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Childhood Mischief in Wartime Birmingham

Here is an extract from Childhood Mischief in Wartime by Eric Yeates which is currently looking for reviewers if you are interested please see the link at the bottom of the extract.

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Rationing has often, rather loftily, been written about as a great victory for British organisation and our great sense of ‘Fair play’. Where I came from it was a glorious opportunity for barter, black-marketing and profiteering.

Petrol was King, as very little was allocated to the private sector, mainly for doctors and similar professionals. Other recipients were skilled engineers in reserved occupations such as our Dad, a toolmaker, who owned a pre-war Jowett – an unusual possession for a working-class family on a Council Estate. Petrol coupons were almost priceless and a subindustry of petrol siphoning soon emerged. Unwary small children were taken out at night by their elder brothers, equipped with a can and a length of hosepipe (readily available cut from stirrup pumps which proliferated in wartime). A victim’s car would be pre-selected in an unlit street and the hose inserted into the tank, facilitated by the lack of cap-locks or double bends leading to the tank. The youngster would then be given the free end and told to suck hard and push the end into the can when the fluid flowed. This instruction was somewhat superfluous as the watching elders grabbed the hose when the child’s eyes opened wide, his face turned a funny colour and he began to choke. A gallon of petrol gained this way was easily sold – sometimes for a whole pound note, a week’s beer or a yard of knicker elastic.

The penalty for this type of theft was severe, which is where Epitaph to ‘Nickle Eck’ 10 the use of a disposable urchin came in. If the scavengers were disturbed they fled in different directions leaving the child, coughing and retching, to ‘carry the can’. He would be too young to be prosecuted – and probably too ill to testify.

Another source was Industrial petrol, available to essential haulage vehicles and from agricultural equipment. This fuel was dyed a reddish-pink colour and was easily identified if used in private cars, but this did not preclude many embryonic alchemists in Birmingham from adding their favourite ingredient to metamorphose it into liquid gold. Of course there were many accidents, as the highly inflammable mixtures metamorphosed the mixers and their garages into ashes. But, such is progress…

There were many illegalities during the war but we never ran short of rationed items. Our Uncle Alf, Mom’s brother, drove a fire engine so petrol coupons for fuel were available to him at all times for such a crucial vehicle and he was never questioned. To conserve fuel all private cars were limited by law to a few coupons each month, but Dad never ran short. Another of Mom’s brothers, Uncle Arthur, was a pig farmer living in Coleshill. Meat was restricted to food coupons, as were almost all other food items, but Uncle Arthur would smuggle a piglet into a hidden sty and slaughter it for all the family so there was no shortage of meat – especially at Christmas.

Rationing worked splendidly if the families of a working class council estate understood the basic premise, which was flawed. Bread was not rationed and few families could eat all the bread allowed, but distribution was restricted to only one daily delivery and Mom made sure our family was always at the front of the queue. Therefore, if a family needed extra bread we, the Yates’s, honed in on them and began to barter. Mom found that a local family, named Jebb,

were supreme champions at eking out the meagre tea ration – which was based on the little-understood fact that very little tea was grown in England, especially in Birmingham.

For Reviews and Interview Requests please see: http://publishingpush.com

The Klockwerk Kraken

Amazon ~ Barnes and Noble ~ iBooks ~ All Romance ~ Kobo ~ MLR Press

Synopsis

When the right space pilot walks into his bar, a desperate bartender uses all his wiles (and tentacles) to talk the man into business and his bed–but the spacer is still enslaved by his past and isn’t sure he can deal with a two-handed lover, much less one with six.

As the supply shipments stop coming, Teo Houdin needs all his tentacles to keep his waystation bar open. Facing a riot by thirsty miners stranded in the backwater of the galaxy, Teo helps a greenie space pilot buy a ship in return for a regular haul of liquor. But he longs for the courage to invite the enigmatic spacer to fill his lonely bed as well.

Still smarting from his newly implanted navigational ports, Jimenez knows owning his own ship will prevent him from ever being bought and sold again. For a former slave, transporting cargo through the emptiness of space sounds like paradise, but after meeting the compassionate and sexy Teo, his heart feels empty, too.

At the edge of the galaxy’s spiral arm, can Teo convince Jimenez that the heart has its own tentacles and theirs should be entwined forever?

Excerpt

Jimenez opened the bar’s airlock and the urge to run out again washed over him like a splash of cold water. He commanded his frozen legs to shuffle forward and inside. This could turn ugly if he lost his concentration for even a moment. But he wouldn’t. He’d been practicing, becoming accustomed to groups larger than this for revs now.

He could be just like everyone else.

None of them would see the scars on his back or the brand of his tattoo that had marked him since puberty.

Men and women filled half the tables and booths, some laughing and drinking, a few puffing blue smoke. The gaming tables on the side were empty, while a lone player at the billiard table opposite pocketed ball after ball. The room rang with loud voices, clinking glasses, and raucous music.

Jimenez slid into an empty spot at the pale stone bar and caught sight of the clearest, happiest eyes he’d ever seen, a shade lighter than the man’s tousled brown mop above. A dimple quirked at the side of his full lips, mesmerizing Jimenez. The loud voices behind him slid away and for a moment, it was quiet in his mind. Jimenez flinched when his shoulder was jostled and the spell broke.

“Hey, you okay, buddy? First time? What can I pour for you?”

Jimenez blinked, realizing the tall bartender was speaking to him. The man’s smiling eyes crinkled at the corners of his bronzed face. Jimenez swallowed, and he ducked his chin, trying not to stare again, trying to hide his hot cheeks. He’d never been so close to such a handsome man.

“Did you want a drink?” The bartender quirked an eyebrow.

“Yeah… I mean yes. Whiskey neat.” His voice came out gruffer than he expected.

“Bourbon, Scotch, Rye…?”

“Surprise me.” It was a game Jimenez played. He’d order whiskey and discover what the bartender served. If he reached for the rail bottle closest to hand, it meant he would pour either the cheapest or the local favorite. If he pulled something from the top shelf, the bartender angled for a bigger tip. But if he grabbed a decanter off to the side or behind another bottle, he’d score the bartender’s personal pick.

“Coming right up.”

The bartender raised a tentacle in greeting, calling out to another patron.

Oh, God. The man was a Pod.

Of course he was.

In a joint named the Klockwerk Kraken, who better to tend the bar than a tentacled man?

About the Author

Aidee Ladnier began writing fiction at twelve years old but took a hiatus to be a magician’s assistant, ride in hot air balloons, produce independent movies, collect interesting shoes, and amass a secret file with the CIA. A lover of genre fiction, it has been a lifelong dream of Aidee’s to write both romance and erotica with a little science-fiction, fantasy, mystery, or the paranormal thrown in to add a zing.

You can find her on her blog at http://www.aideeladnier.com or on her favorite social media sites:

GIVEAWAY CENTRAL

Coloring Contest

Aidee is holding a Coloring Contest!! Visit the link below and download one of her coloring sheets and upload it once you have finished coloring for a chance to win a $25 Amazon Gift Card plus a signed LIMITED EDITION of the Klockwerk Kraken. So get some crayons and grab the kids because the more you enter the more chances you have to win.

http://www.aideeladnier.com/2015/01/coloring-contest.html

Blog Tour Giveaway

Aidee is giving away a prize pack filled wth gift cards and lots of Kraken style goodies!

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Danny’s Dragon

Synopsis

A rugged, muscular cop.

A sexy computer genius.

Secret desires.

Brought together by a crime committed on a cold dark night.

From the moment they meet, their lives can never be the same again…

Wild and rugged Dave Pearce is haunted by the demons of his past. He’s done his best to make a life for himself after the devastation of his lover’s suicide years earlier, but the trauma has left its mark on his soul.

Danny Wong is what Dave considers a “nerdy Bruce Lee.” Handsome, refined, out of his league.

But that doesn’t matter.

Dave believes himself to be dangerous for any man who would love him. So he stays back in the shadows, letting the desire he harbors for the hot grad student remain unrequited.

Danny has demons of his own. Duty-bound to his family’s goals for him, he remains shy and closeted, contenting himself with his secret fantasies about the sexy Irish cop who patrols the campus building where Danny does his graduate work.

Until one freezing winter night…

Leaving the building, fate steps in and their paths cross in a new…deeper way. Neither man can turn back. Danny and Dave must face the demons rearing their heads with full force, or lose their chance at an epic love…

Book trailer

Pre-order Links

Don’t miss the Tickle Me Pink sale on WIP’s website – 25% off all list prices!

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Excerpt

Footsteps in the hall jerked Danny from his fantasy. Danny’s heartbeat sped up. It was him. Pearce.

He leaned back, away from the computer screen at which he’d been staring for the last twenty minutes during his fantasy, and discreetly swiveled his desk chair, just enough to be able to watch the campus police officer pass his door on his nightly patrol of the building. Since the start of the school year last September, Danny had gotten to know the man’s work schedule, and as time passed, had made certain he was at his desk just for the moment’s glance he got of him each night. The only thing he knew about Pearce, besides the time he patrolled Stata Center, was his name.

Pearce reached the doorway and peered in as he passed. He did that every night, giving Danny a clear view of his large blue eyes set deep in his freckled face. He was a rugged man with a strong jaw. His cap thankfully didn’t cover all of his short-cropped reddish-blond hair, and his blue uniform jacket rested evenly on his broad shoulders. Danny couldn’t even count at this point how many times he had imagined what the guy’s chest looked like underneath his clothes.

When he saw Danny he smiled, as if he was truly glad to see him. “Working late again, eh?”

Danny felt heat flush his cheeks, feeling like Pearce could see into his head, see the hot fantasy he entertained nearly every night. He nodded, hunching down a bit. He’d be mortified if Pearce saw the erection pushing out his pants. “Always.”

The police officer nodded. “Same here.” A heartbeat passed in which he appeared to want to say more. “Hope it’s going well.”

Danny shrugged, struggling to appear casual. If the other man lingered a moment longer, his voice was going to stick in his throat and embarrass him. His eye fell on the nametag. David Pearce. “Not so much.”

Pearce smiled again. “Don’t push it.”

Danny shook his head, his heart beginning to pound. “I won’t.”

The other man remained in the doorway, giving Danny the sense he was lingering. “Just be careful leaving so late. I see you here often at this time, and I keep wanting to tell you that.”

Danny heard a protective note in the other man’s voice which sent another tingle up his spine. One more moment and his voice would fail him completely. “Thank you.”

Pearce nodded. “It’s my job.” He paused. “Well, I guess I should let you get back to work. Take care now.”

This was the longest exchange they’d had yet, and a strange energy zinged through the room like a ball bouncing back and forth between them. Danny wondered if he was imagining it.

He returned the nod. “You too.” Feeling like a nervous adolescent, he swiveled his chair quickly around and stared at the screen again. He attempted to resume his typing but stopped because his hands were trembling. He sighed and slumped back in the chair.

Giveaway

Prize – $10 WIP Gift Card

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About the author

Award-winning, multi-published author of erotic romance, SEDONIA GUILLONE spends her days writing deliciously naughty romances—when she’s not cuddling with the man she loves or watching kung fu and samurai films and eating chocolate.

Sedonia welcomes comments from readers.

Sedonia Guillone can be found at:

Website: www.sedoniaguillone.com

Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/sedonia.guillone?fref=ts

Twitter: https://twitter.com/SedoniaGuillone

Pinterest: https://www.pinterest.com/sedoniag/

False Pretenses: Guest Post

Introducing a guest post from Scott R Kramer author of False Pretenses

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How to Create a Great Work Area for Inspiration

I try to remove most of the distractions around me when I write. I have written on both a desktop computer as well as a laptop computer, and the desktop allowed me to accomplish more because it was in a room, away from the tumult of my house. The laptop allowed me to write while sitting on the couch, watching television, while my family went about cooking or eating, or any number of other activities, all of which were distracting. The desktop, in contrast, was on my desk, in my office, away from the kitchen, family room, and other high traffic rooms in my house. Additionally, the posture that I assumed when sitting at my desk was much more conducive to working than the one I had while reclining on the couch.

I would recommend eliminating as many distractions as possible and making yourself just comfortable enough to allow you to work, without allowing you to be comfortable enough to relax. What that point is, however, is subjective. You may be able to sit on the beach and write, where I would probably be too distracted to have much success. I, on the other hand, can find great success sitting at my desk with nothing around and that might bore you to tears.

False Pretenses

A stolen election. Domestic terrorism. Extortion. Once in power, and consumed by greed, Pete Reeves will stop at nothing to have more of both. It’s a non-stop race around the world to prevent the President from going to war to further his own ambitions. Politics takes one unexpected turn after another in “False Pretenses,” the new political thriller by Scott Kramer.

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About Scott R. Kramer

Scott Kramer is a former investment advisor and now runs a manufacturing company. He grew up in New Jersey and has a Bachelors Degree and Masters Degree, both in finance. He lives in Los Angeles with his wife and three children. False Pretenses is his debut political thriller novel.

Follow Scott on twitter: @scottrkramer

Guitars and Cages

Title: Guitars and Cages

Author: Layla Dorine

Genre: gay fiction, urban drama, contemporary, M/M fiction

Length: Novel

Publisher: Wayward Ink Publishing

The future for the Guitars and Cages world

Greetings. Thank you for such a warm welcome, it’s a pleasure to be here, and a little surreal too. I never imagined I would be doing a blog tour or being given so many wonderful opportunities to talk about the Guitars and Cage’s world and what in store for it now that the book has been released. When I started, I never imagined that there would be a second part of the story, but after I reached the final chapter, all of the characters were still loudly telling me that they had much more that they wanted to share.

In fact, there’s so much more that, after writing almost 85,000 words of the second novel, there is a third book in the planning stages. Right now, the second book will give readers a greater insight into Cole, while still being very focused on the core group of Asher, Conner, Morgan, Alexia and Rory. I’ve also had the chance to show Asher interacting with his son, and taking some steps towards making amends with Eve. Asher’s father will also make an appearance in this book, so readers will have the opportunity to see if he’s as horrible he’s been made out to be. Right now, it’s looking like the third book will be Alexia centric, but I don’t want to get too far ahead of myself in making notes. I never know what they might tell me after everything unfolds in the second book.

In addition to the second book of the Guitars series, I’ve also written two other novels that have been accepted for publication by Wayward Ink that are both in the early stages of the editing process so I won’t give their names right now as they just might change. I will say that one of them kick starts with an arranged marriage, and the other focuses on a rock and roll band that is on the cusp of breaking out of the bar scene and making it big. I’ve always got some kind of writing project going on and am focused at the moment on finishing the first draft of a dirt bike themed story with more steamy bits then I’ve ever written before.

Excerpt

“You know what? Sometimes it is. I’m not saying it’s a good thing, Conner, but sometimes you need money faster than you can earn it honestly. I hadn’t planned to fight anymore, but Kimber ditched Rory with Morgan, like for good, and the bar is struggling. The taxes are due and the only goddamned home Morgan, Alexia and Rory have is over that bar. I knew I could make enough to help Morgan pay the taxes until he got things settled at the bar again. That’s the only reason I took that fight tonight.”

“You know what, I can understand that. What I don’t get is how you go from fighting to ending up cuffed and blindfolded with that guy pawing you like a bad prom date.”

“I’m one of the guys Catfish took a liking to. He’s been after me for months to work for him as his bodyguard. What that really means is I’d be hired muscle and a personal fuck toy. I would have said yes to the bodyguard if the rest didn’t come with it, but Catfish don’t want one without the other, and every time I’m with him, it’s just…”

I let out a shuddering sigh and hung my head.

I felt Conner’s hand on my arm, and he used his other hand to brush my hair back from my eyes. “Do you know that whenever you don’t want to talk about something, you try to use your hair as a wall?”

I glanced at his face, and then down again. “Yeah.”

He slid his hand beneath my chin and raised my eyes so I was looking at him. “I’m not judging you. I want you to explain it to me so maybe I can understand what you’re thinking when you go there.”

“That’s just it,” I said low, but I knew he could hear me. “He doesn’t judge me, he doesn’t think my scars are hideous, he doesn’t think I’m stupid because I don’t read so good and I didn’t finish high school. He doesn’t expect anything more from me than to be who I am, and when I need it most, he’s the only one who ever tells me I’m worth anything, or that he wants me around. I hate that I love it when he touches me, that it feels good even when he hurts me. I didn’t say yes to being his bodyguard because I knew if I did, I’d never leave. If I let him give me everything he’s promised, there would never have been a chance at walking away.”

Conner put one hand on my cheek and caressed it, while the other kept me from looking away. “You’ve always wanted more than to fight and play your guitar, haven’t you?”

I swallowed hard. “Yeah.”

Synopsis

Asher Logan is a bartender and a pretty wicked guitar player, when he isn’t wrecking his hands fighting in a cage. With a past he keeps hoping to outrun, Asher’s been on a downward spiral for longer than he can remember. When his sister-in-law leaves Rory, his eight-year-old nephew, in his care, Asher is forced into two things he’s never been good at: sobriety and responsibility. As he struggles to care for Rory, his own life begins to unravel.

When Asher’s brother, Alex, turns up, presenting as a girl and announcing her new name is Alexia, it further complicates matters, as does the arrival of his new neighbor, Conner. Both, in their own way, compel Asher to look at his own closely-guarded views on sexuality.

When the siblings’ older brother, Cole, reacts violently to Alexia, Asher is placed squarely in the middle of a family conflict which compels him to confront who he pretends to be versus who he really is.

Asher must choose who to trust and who to finally walk away from.

Buy Links

Don’t miss the Wayward Ink Publishing Tickle Me Pink Sale – 25% off all list prices!

WIP: http://www.waywardinkpublishing.com/product/guitars-and-cages-by-layla-dorine/

Amazon US: http://www.amazon.com/Guitars-Cages-Layla-Dorine-ebook/dp/B00YWD9PVQ/

Amazon AU: http://www.amazon.com.au/Guitars-Cages-Layla-Dorine-ebook/dp/B00YWD9PVQ/

Amazon UK: http://www.amazon.co.uk/Guitars-Cages-Layla-Dorine-ebook/dp/B00YWD9PVQ/

Amazon DE: http://www.amazon.de/Guitars-Cages-Layla-Dorine-ebook/dp/B00YWD9PVQ/

ARe: https://www.allromanceebooks.com/product-guitarsandcages-1838198-341.html

B&N: http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/guitars-and-cages-layla-dorine/1122098430?ean=9781925222463

Book Trailer

Giveaway

a Rafflecopter giveaway

Prize: $20 WIP Gift Card and 1 ebook copy of Guitars and Cages

About the author

LAYLA DORINE lives among the sprawling prairies of Midwestern America, in a house with more cats than people. She loves hiking, fishing, swimming, martial arts, camping out, photography, cooking, and dabbling with several artistic mediums. In addition, she loves to travel and visit museums, historic, and haunted places.

Layla got hooked on writing as a child, starting with poetry and then branching out, and she hasn’t stopped writing since. Hard times, troubled times, the lives of her characters are never easy, but then what life is? The story is in the struggle, the journey, the triumphs and the falls. She writes about artists, musicians, loners, drifters, dreamers, hippies, bikers, truckers, hunters and all the other folks that she’s met and fallen in love with over the years. Sometimes she writes urban romance and sometimes its aliens crash landing near a roadside bar. When she isn’t writing, or wandering somewhere outdoors, she can often be found curled up with a good book and a kitty on her lap.

Layla Dorine can be found at:

Facebook:https://www.facebook.com/profile.php?id=100005197938547&fref=ts

Twitter: https://twitter.com/layladorine

Pinterest: http://www.pinterest.com/layladorine/

This Book Needs a Title: Guest Post

Introducing Guest Post from Theodore Ficklestein author of This Book Needs a Title

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Why Every Author Has To Tell You Their Book Is The Greatest

Look.

I have to tell you that my book is amazing.

Whether or not it actually is, that part of this whole thing is not as important.

For God’s sake, I spent how long on the damn thing and I don’t even have the moxie to tell you that I like it.

I have to pump up my book.

Like an athlete on steroids.

I have to tell you it is worth a bunch of awards.

That is all a part of the marketing part of writing a book.

I will even show you poems from my book that are really worth reading.

Sure the other parts of the book may stink, but that is not important.

According to me (as I promote this book) my book This Book Needs A Title Volume 2 is the greatest book ever.

Everyone should read.

Everyone will love it.

Which is probably not the case.

But heck if those exaggerations will sell a few extra copies, then why not?

Having said all that.

You should buy my new book This Book Needs A Title Volume 2.

You’ll love it!

Book Links: http://www.amazon.com/This-Book-Needs-Title-TBNAT-ebook/dp/B010OXFQDI/ref=tmm_kin_title_0?_encoding=UTF8&sr=8-2&qid=1435962949

http://www.amazon.com/This-Book-Needs-Title-2/dp/151412842X/ref=tmm_pap_title_0?_encoding=UTF8&sr=8-2&qid=1435962949

http://www.amazon.com/This-Book-Needs-Title-TBNAT/dp/1514320622/ref=tmm_pap_title_1?_encoding=UTF8&sr=8-2&qid=1435962949

Website: www.thisblogneedsatitle.com

Twitter: @theodorefickle

Faye Hall – Erotic Romance Author

Today I have a guest post from erotic romance author Faye Hall

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As authors we all come across challenges when writing our scripts. When you are an author of Historical erotic romances these challenges are no mean feat to overcome.

Historical romances of any genre always presents the task of not only writing a kick arse love story, but also ensuring the numerous historical facts included in the story can withstand the scrutiny of any history buff that turns the pages of your book.

Mistress of Purity, my third release with Red Sage Publishing coming out in August, presented many issues with regards to historical facts for me. Not only was there the historical accuracy regarding the town of Sarina in which the book is set that I had to get right, but also raping every history web page trying to find names of tavern’s (many of which were burnt down and lost in the history pages), and also the types of carriages used in Australia during the late 1800’s.

Passions in the Dust, my fourth release due out in October, was an even bigger hurdle as the story begins back in Plymouth, England before it travels to Bowen, Australia. So I had to try and track down shipping records from the late 1800’s to see if I could find a passenger ship travelling between the two countries at the particular year I wanted to set the story. I was lucky though and with many hours of searching the web and a huge dose of luck, I actually managed to find not only a ship’s name, but also the name of the captain.

Now given that my stories are primarily erotic romances, the accuracy of historical facts may not seem important but because of the country I have chosen to set my stories in I need these accuracies. Australian romances are becoming more and more popular as the years pass but, to many, Australia is still an unimaginable wilderness with a very blank and unknown history other than convicts from the first fleet.

This unfamiliar setting means that as a writer you have to work twice as hard to plant the scenery of the country in the readers mind. You have to describe so much of the townships, and make it as accurate as possible so that it is believable enough for the reader to become engrossed in what they are reading. I also then like adding the extra drama of further scandal, mystery and murder to help move the story along. The challenge here is to try and get inside the mind of the Victorian person, and know what they considered as scandal along with what weapons were available to cause whatever harm was needed.

So why do I torture myself by writing historical erotic romances?

It’s simple really. With each book I write I get transported back in time to a place few were ever told about, and fewer still will ever read about. I hope too that my readers will experience a journey unlike any other each time they read one of my books, and get to sample a piece of Australian history as they delve into the lives of my characters.

The history of Australia is a beautiful and adventurous one, filled with hardships and passions unlike any other.

Mistress of Purity and Passions in the Dust will show you townships of Australia few know to exist, and you will fall in love with the characters from each book as they take you on a passionate journey through their hardships in their still new and most unexplored country.

FIND OUT MORE ABOUT FAYE HALL

Strength To Let Go

Title: Strength to Let Go

Series: Tales of the Werewolf Tribes, Book One

Author: Alina Popescu

Genre: gay romance, paranormal, werewolves, paranormal romance, supernatural

Publisher: Wayward Ink Publishing

Synopsis

After being abandoned by his mates, Shiki Kirishima, beta of the Dragons of the Fang werewolf tribe, returns to his home in Tokyo.

Crippled by grief, Shiki decides to end it all by going into the territory of the Siberian Killers tribe and challenging them to a battle to the death.

His death.

Ganzorig, beta of the Siberian Killers, however, sees the potentially disastrous consequences of having Shiki die in battle.

Instead, he saves him.

Having suffered loss himself, Ganz takes it upon himself to help Shiki deal with his pain.

Blake, Shiki’s best friend since childhood, is as determined to show him there is life after a wolf’s ultimate loss.

Could there also be something ‘more’ for them after friendship?

Book Trailer

Pre-order Links

Don’t miss the Tickle Me Pink sale on the Wayward Ink Publishing site – 25% off all list prices till July 21st.

WIP: http://www.waywardinkpublishing.com/product/strength-to-let-go-by-alina-popescu/

Amazon US: http://www.amazon.com/dp/B010ITT1VG/

Amazon UK: http://www.amazon.co.uk/dp/B010ITT1VG/

Amazon AU: http://www.amazon.com.au/dp/B010ITT1VG/

Amazon DE: http://www.amazon.de/dp/B010ITT1VG/

ARe: https://www.allromanceebooks.com/product-strengthtoletgo-1840807-145.html

B&N: http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/strength-to-let-go-alina-popescu/1122233801?ean=9781925222555

Excerpt

Growling low, the sound vibrating into my chest, I stood up as the wolves I had been searching for flared in my mind’s eye. There were a few dozen that could reach me soon if they started running toward me. They would do just that, they just needed the proper motivation. I reached into the depths of my being, tapping into all the fae power Kieran and Kayden’s blood had regaled me with, and used it to spread my scent farther across the lands I had single-handedly invaded. I used the wind to bring the trail to them. I could feel their fur bristling as their nostrils flared with the foreign scent. Snarls and growls followed, then piercing howls, calling to each other and beckoning their pack mates, spurring them on to give chase and come find me.

I chuckled, knowing I’d finally accomplished my first task, getting the Siberian Killers to come to me. The rest would be much simpler. The enemy werewolves would only have to follow their ancient rules and kill every wolf that stepped foot on their territory. Rule breakers had to pay, and I had broken their one rule for foreigners. No better way to get yourself killed than getting ferocious killers all riled up.

I took another step forward, adjusting my grip on my swords and rolling my shoulders. I then tilted my head left and right, hearing my bones crack and set in place. I could feel the cold ground and fading grass under my feet, the wind blowing my hair out of my eyes, and hear the sounds of birds and small game running away from the path of the oncoming wolves. They’d reach me within minutes and my muscles tensed, adrenalin spiking and making my blood roar with excitement at the fast approaching fight. I let my head fall back and howled, a long, deep sound that made the forest around me go quiet for about a minute.

I knew my attackers had stopped in their tracks, raising their muzzles and sniffing the air. Disbelief was a strong ally in a grossly unmatched fight. I imagined they’d have a hard time understanding why a lone wolf who had just been caught on their territory would howl in challenge like that. I assumed the distance had also puzzled them. As they’d caught my scent, they had thought I’d be closer. Surprise, surprise!

About the author

Writer, traveler, and coffee addict, ALINA POPESCU has been in love with books all her life. She started writing when she was ten and she has always been drawn to sci-fi, fantasy, and the supernatural realm. Born and raised in Romania, she finds her inspiration in books of all genres, in movies, and the occasional manga comic book. She is a proud geek who needs her fast Internet and gadgets more than she needs air.

Social Links

Site & Blog: http://alina-popescu.com

Facebook:  https://www.facebook.com/authoralinapopescu

Twitter: http://twitter.com/alina_popescu

Instagram: http://instagram.com/alinapopescuwriter

Goodreads:  https://www.goodreads.com/alina-popescu

Google+:  https://www.google.com/+AlinaPopescu

Amazon:  http://amazon.com/author/alinapopescu

Ari – Blog Tour

GUEST POST – BY CHERYL HEADFORD

The UK Meet is a meeting up of LGBT writers which takes place in the UK. I can’t comment on previous years, but in 2014 I attended and that was where Ari was born. It took place in Bristol, at the wonderful Bristol Marriott Royal Hotel I met so many people and most of them wonderful. The catering was amazing and I basically ate beautiful confections, from sandwiches to cakes, and drank coffee, all day.

The story of Benji’s UK Meet experience was basically mine. My hamster, Ariel, died the night before. We were woken by the dog barking at the mother of all thunder storms the morning of the Meet, and there was a singing guard on my train to Cardiff.

Unlike Benji, I wasn’t estranged from my family, or taking care of my young brother. Marc is in fact my son, and I dropped him off at his father’s. It was hammering down so hard I thought it was going to dent the car and I worried it was such an inauspicious start. However, it only got better from there.

If only I had met Ari, Benji and Arthur there! However, I did manage to write most of the original story that appeared in the WIP Anthology Stranded

At the same time I met wonderful people, sat in on lively discussions – on topics that ranged from negotiating contracts to whether there should be swearing in YA, to writing disabled characters – and listened to fascinating talks. I had never seen shibari in practice before and I was very impressed.

Like Benji, I made a huge mistake in hotels and was a ten minute taxi drive away, so I missed out on some of the action, but I had a fantastic time nevertheless. This year, I’ll make sure to research hotels much better.

All in all my experience at the UK Meet it 2014 was eye opening and amazing. I might not have actually met Ari and Benji, but I met some absolutely amazing people, had a wonderful time and am looking forward to doing the same this year.

 

Title: Ari

Author: Cheryl Headford

Genre: LGBT, romance, transgender, intersex, M/M, F/F

Length: Novel

Publisher: Wayward Ink Publishing

Synopsis

After having known each other online for some time, writers, Benji and Ari meet at a convention.

Their attraction is both immediate and mutual.

But all is not straightforward—Ari is intersex and Benji transgender.

Together they embark on a journey.

A journey that unites families, and heals old wounds.

But not everyone is happy with the blossoming love between these two unique and special individuals.

Will an act of aggression crush the flower before it can bloom?

Book trailer

Buy Links

Don’t miss Wayward Ink Publishing’s Tickle Me Pink Sale! 25% off all list prices.

WIP: http://www.waywardinkpublishing.com/?p=1298

Amazon US: http://www.amazon.com/dp/B00YUT48QE/

Amazon UK: http://www.amazon.co.uk/dp/B00YUT48QE/

Amazon AU: http://www.amazon.com.au/dp/B00YUT48QE/

Amazon DE: http://www.amazon.de/dp/B00YUT48QE/

ARe: https://www.allromanceebooks.com/product-ari-1820879-341.html

B&N: http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/ari-cheryl-headford/1122098431?ean=9781925222487

Giveaway

Prizes: 3 UK Swag Packs (Ari mug, notebook, rainbow pen) and 3 International Swag Packs (6.99 WIP gift card, bookmark, key chain)

a Rafflecopter giveaway

About the author

CHERYL HEADFORD was born into a poor mining family in the South Wales Valleys. Until she was 16, the toilet was at the bottom of the garden and the bath hung on the wall. Her refrigerator was a stone slab in the pantry and there was a black lead fireplace in the kitchen. They look lovely in a museum but aren’t so much fun to clean.

Cheryl has always been a storyteller. As a child, she’d make up stories for her nieces, nephews and cousin and they’d explore the imaginary worlds she created, in play.

Later in life, Cheryl became the storyteller for a re-enactment group who traveled widely, giving a taste of life in the Iron Age. As well as having an opportunity to run around hitting people with a sword, she had an opportunity to tell stories of all kinds, sometimes of her own making, to all kinds of people. The criticism was sometimes harsh, especially from the children, but the reward enormous.

It was here she began to appreciate the power of stories and the primal need to hear them. In ancient times, the wandering bard was the only source of news, and the storyteller the heart of the village, keeping the lore and the magic alive. Although much of the magic has been lost, the stories still provide a link to the part of us that still wants to believe that it’s still there, somewhere.

In present times, Cheryl lives in a terraced house in the valleys with her son and her two cats. Her daughter has deserted her for the big city, but they’re still close. The part of her that needs to earn money is a lawyer, but the deepest, and most important part of her is a storyteller and artist, and always will be.

Website: Nephylim-author.blogspot.co.uk

Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/cheryl.headford

Twitter: @SevenPointStar

Excerpt

Isis and Osiris came bounding out of the house, followed by two women carrying trays. The similarities and differences between Nancy and Skye were even more obvious in person. It was like looking at two halves of a personality, one severe and the other timid. Ari, it seemed, had inherited all the fun.
The trays contained a delicious selection of cakes and biscuits, and Skye immediately scuttled back indoors, presumably to collect more, or perhaps drinks. Marc was on the plates like a locust.
“Marc! At least say thank you.”
“Thank you,” he mumbled with a mouth full of cake.
“Don’t worry,” Nancy said with a smile that transformed her sour expression, “he’s not doing anything Ari doesn’t. I’m surprised he hasn’t got his face in the chocolate cake already. He must be on his best behaviour.”
Ari shrugged. “Don’t get too complacent. I already ate the—”
“Ari Fischer.” Skye’s voice was outraged as she strode down the path, holding a large jug and a tin. “Look at this.” She shook the tin at Nancy, who smirked.
“Don’t tell me, half of the gingerbread snaps have mysteriously vanished.”
“Half? There are four left. Four!”
Ari uncurled and danced over to his mother. He hugged her; then he grabbed the tin. “Oh well then, might as well finish them.”
“Ari.” Skye scolded as he dipped his hand into the tin and stuffed his mouth with something that crunched.
“Ari, will you please—?”
“Do you think there’s a point in scolding him?” Nancy broke in, cutting Skye dead. “He never listens, and besides, the boy’s too thin. There’s nothing there of him. He could do with feeding up.”
“Feeding up? You see how much he eats.”
“He burns it off with all that energy. Here, have some of these.” Not missing a stride, Nancy took up a plate of biscuits and handed them to me. When Ari would have intercepted the plate, she batted his hand away. “Visitors first, dear,” she said, and Ari gazed at me with an expectant expression. I don’t know whether he was waiting to see if I liked the biscuits or for me to relinquish the plate.
The biscuits tasted like heaven. They were sweet and light and crunchy, and tasted of butter and something I couldn’t quite put my finger on. “What’s in the biscuits?”
“Cinnamon,” Ari said instantly. “Nancy makes the best cinnamon cookies ever.”
Nancy beamed. “Thank you, dear, but those are your mother’s. She’s a serious challenger these days. Which is just as well as I’m getting older and no one knows how much longer I’ll be able to cook.”
“Mother. Don’t say things like that,” Skye exclaimed, almost dropping the second mug and stack of glasses she was carrying. “You’ll be around for many years yet.”
“I intend to,” Nancy said with a grin, “but no one knows what’s coming ’round the corner.”
A sharp breeze whipped around the corner of the house and made me shiver for a moment. It was gone as fast as it came, but I noticed Ari, Nancy and Skye all raised their heads and glanced around. I shivered again. Did they think it was a premonition? Was it? Hadn’t Ari said Nancy and Skye were witches? I hadn’t believed him, but maybe they were. If so, some of their stuff would have rubbed off on Ari maybe. He was very perceptive, did that count?