Wednesday, February 3, 2016

The Gladiator's Master by Fae Sutherland & Marguerite Labbe

When Roman politician Caelius inherits a stable of gladiators, there is one who captures his attention above the whose eyes gleam with hate, pride and desire.

Forced into slavery by Roman greed, Gaidres can barely conceal his contempt toward his new Dominus. Gaidres has a plan: kill Caelius and end the lineage of the Roman family that enslaved him. For his plan to succeed, he must make a show of respect and obedience--even when called on to service his master's desires.

Gaidres is shocked to learn that in the confines of his quarters, Caelius doesn't want to dominate his slave, but to be taken by him. The sex is explosive as they break society's taboos and, to Gaidres's dismay, they form a tenuous relationship. Even when Caelius learns of Gaidres's plans for revenge, he knows he can't live without his perfect lover. Is he willing to risk it all to tame his gladiator's heart?

As a history lover and a huge fan of the Starz series Spartacus and having just re-watched the entire series I was in a mood for Ancient Rome setting.  The Gladiator's Master was recommended to me and thank God because it is amazing.  Both authors are new to me which can be scary for some but I find exhilarating and I was not disappointed.  The story, characters, setting were done with amazing detail that I felt as if I was right there in the ludus watching it enfold.  When Gaidres realizes that Calieus is not his uncle, his life is turned upside down.  Finding out if he takes this new path or keeps to his current destination is heart pounding and you will have to read for yourself to discover the answer, I will say that I could not put it down until I reached the end.  What a great way to break into the Ancient Rome sub-genre.


It had been a month since his uncle had died without warning. Privately, Caelius was of the opinion that Craxus had choked on his own bile. With his death came a whole new host of decisions. Caelius hadn't wanted a new villa, especially one that needed so much work, but it did have a ludus and he took that as a sign from the gods.

Of course, the ludus was far from the glorious ones he had seen at other estates. What remained to be seen was how much work it would take to make it and the fighters ready for a grand show. He did not care for the games. Many powerful Romans did, however, and if he wanted to further his political career, what better way than to become a patron of their favorite pastime?

"Felix." Caelius turned to his personal scribe and lowered his voice. "Spare no expense on the renovations. I want no problems later that we could have anticipated now."

"I will see to it myself, Dominus. It doesn't appear as if much has been done before our arrival," Felix murmured for Caelius's ears alone. "I examined the ludus as the men gathered in the courtyard."

"I wish to see for myself before I make any decisions."

He, his scribe and a retinue of guards strode from the villa down to the short tunnel that led to the training courtyard. A strong, high wall extended from the southern edge of the villa, securing both the courtyard and the gladiator quarters. He'd viewed the courtyard from his balcony, had seen a few of the men on occasion, but his first few days here had been filled with tasks requiring his attention and this was his first opportunity to see the ludus up close. At least his wife had chosen to stay at their other villa in Caere until this one was made more comfortable. One less headache to manage.

He passed the men, who huddled together as they sat on the training ground. Some glanced at him with suspicion, others stared with empty expressions. A few hung their heads. He pressed his lips together, torn between anger and regret.

Caelius frowned as they entered the emptied gladiator quarters. The stench alone was overpowering. "Have these cells cleansed from top to bottom. One shouldn't keep animals in places such as this, much less fighting men who bring coin and renown."

"Yes, Dominus." Felix looked at the small cells. "They will need new bedding and blankets. The others are rat-chewed."

"There are rats?" Caelius turned to his uncle's overseer, Priscus. "Why wasn't I told of this?"

"A ludus will have rats, Dominus. It is simply the way it is," the man said with an oily tone.

"Ridiculous. Procure a few cats, good mousers, for down here and several more for the villa." If rats were in one place, it should stand to reason that they would appear in his new home, as well.

They moved on to the equipment room, which was in a similar shameful state. What was the purpose of owning gladiators who stood not a chance of winning?

"This place will need to be expanded. I want a bath installed for them as well. We can destroy the kitchen, but keep the dining area. Food and drink can be brought from the villa. That should help with the rats." Though Caelius couldn't see any sign of the food and water he had ordered weeks ago before leaving home. "I wish to see the men now."

Priscus wrung his hands as he led Caelius out to where the men had lined up to wait. They were an even more miserable-looking bunch up close, ill-fed with the pinched expressions and hollowed eyes of men who had lost muscle and weight. No doubt thanks to his uncle and his coin-pinching ways. Why feed slaves three times a day when he could feed them once and drink away what he saved?

Author Bios:
Marguerite Labbe
Marguerite has been accused of being eccentric and a shade neurotic, both of which she freely admits to, but her muse has OCD tendencies, so who can blame her? Her husband and son do an excellent job keeping her toeing the line, though. Together with her co-author Fae Sutherland, Marguerite has found a shared passion for beautiful men with smart mouths.

When she's not working hard on writing new material and editing completed work, she spends her time reading novels of all genres, enjoying role-playing games with her equally nutty friends, and trying to plot practical jokes against her son and husband. Her son is learning the tricks too quickly and likes to retaliate. You'd think she'd learn.

Fae Sutherland
Fae Sutherland is the award-winning, bestselling author of 30 M/M erotic romance novels - co-authored and solo. She also writes M/F erotic romance under a pen name.

When Fae's not working on new stories to make her readers sweat, she loves website design, spending too much time on Twitter, and watching oodles of Food Network with her beloved life partner. If there's any time left over, it's spent snuggling the cat.

Marguerite Labbe

Fae Sutherland


Break Me Like a Promise by Aria Grace and Kyan Christopher

Title: Break Me Like a Promise
Authors: Aria Grace & Kyan Christopher
Series: Promises #1
Genre: M/M & M/F Contemporary Romance
Release Date: January 30, 2016

An M/M and M/F Contemporary Romance Series. Written from the perspectives of both male and female, gay and straight characters. 

80% M/M, 20% M/F 

For brothers Brent and Tad, opening up their gym, Sculpt, is a dream come true. Struggling to gain recognition in the fitness world, they enlist the help of a well-known advertising agency to help market their full service fitness center. When Brent meets his new account manager, he feels an automatic attraction to Luke. However, another employee in the gym has his eyes set on Brent and will stop at nothing to keep the boss to himself.

Tad is married to his high school sweetheart. With a wife and two adorable children, his life couldn’t get any better. Then his happily ever after is cut short by a tragic accident. Tad gives up on love, expecting to never be happy again, until one of his employees puts her life on the line to protect his business.

The Promises Series is an M/M and M/F romantic collaboration by authors Aria Grace and Kyan Christopher. 

“Hey, Claire. How are things today?” I walk behind the reception desk and glance at the computer screen over her short, pixie-style black hair. The open calendar program reveals blue highlights for appointments that are booked this week.

“Good. You have a client coming at ten, so you have about thirty minutes to shower and change.”

Lifting my arms one at a time, I smell my armpits. “I don’t stink that bad.”

She turns around and looks at me over her black-rimmed frames. Her gaze takes on a quizzical look. “Ugh. How is it again that you’re gay? Because you seem to be very much the straight man when it comes to body odor.”

“Geez, Claire.” I laugh as the corners of her mouth tilt upward. “Sorry to disappoint your stereotyped expectations for straight and gay men.”

“That’s why I stick to women. Less fuss and confusion.”

“Oh, is that why?” I smirk.

“That and the tits and the…” The door chime sounds, cutting her off. “Hi, welcome to Sculpt. Can I help you?”

Leaving her to our new customer, I head through the gym to the men’s locker room. All the employees have large lockers here for extra clothes we need throughout the day. Walking toward the showers, I grab a clean towel from the stack we maintain for guests.

I pull the glass door open, and light puffs of steam greet me as I step through the entrance. The outer area of the tiled room consists of benches running along the frame of the fourteen-by-twelve room. An opening at the back leads to the showers, where the sound of water cascading echoes off the walls. Stripping out of my clothes, I lay them on one of the benches, taking only my towel with me.

Making my way down the center aisle of shower stalls, the back left stall is the only one in use. Three stalls are lined up on each side of the aisle. A rod with a curtain on each allows for privacy, but I notice the stall in use has only half the curtain pulled.

Choosing the back right shower, I hang my towel on the hook outside the stall and pull my curtain, leaving enough room for me to glance over to the other side. The water warms quickly and I step under the stream, allowing the pelting flow to relax my muscles after Grant’s strenuous workout.

I sneak a peek from around my curtain, looking into the shower across the way. A strong thigh and one side of a round, bubble butt come into view and my dick begins to grow. I pump some of the body wash from the dispenser and begin to lather myself up, giving extra care to my stiffened member. My hand glides up and down as I continue to stare at the muscular body in the other stall.

The body begins to turn, so I lean back into the stream of water, not wanting to be caught peeping. I chance a look again and my eyes grow wide. The guy’s hand is moving up and down. Damn, he’s jacking off too. Tingling sensations cover my body as I watch this hunk across from me.

The man’s left hand braces above his head on the shower wall. Fuck. I wish I could see his face and chest, but he hasn’t leaned over far enough for me to see more than his hands. My hand strokes faster as I hear the guy let out a small moan. As I watch his hand clench against the wall, he groans and I know he’s reached his climax. The excitement from glimpses of him pleasuring himself sends me over the edge as well. I lean back into the flow of water, letting it coat me as the trembling sensations within me subside.

Author Bios:
Aria Grace
Born and raised in beautiful California, Aria enjoys the year round sunshine and laid back environment of the west coast. Her career started out in tech writing and web development and has evolved into all things marketing with fingers in everything related to book publishing.

She lives with her husband and two children and more pets than she can keep track of. Despite her crazy schedule, she loves the time she carves out to read and write. Whether it's on the beach or on the couch at 2am, she is a woman obsessed!

She loves to hear from readers so please feel free to drop her a note or visit her website.

If you'd like to know when Aria's next book is coming out or where she'll be signing, join her mailing list.

Kyan Christopher
Kyan Christopher was born and raised in Louisiana. A southern boy who loves the city, he is a romantic at heart. Never thinking he would become an author, a fan fiction piece he wrote inspired a series that launched his desire to weave tales of passion and romance. Kyan is supported by his loving partner of 15 years. They live in the South with their three four-legged kids.

Aria Grace

Kyan Christopher


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Burning Offer by Aubrey Parker

Title: Burning Offer
Author: Aubrey Parker
Series: Trevor's Harem #1
Genre: New Adult Romance
Release Date: February 2, 2016
The anonymous invitation that someone slipped under my door promises $1,000. Just for meeting a man downtown, in a public place, no questions asked.

​I can make more than I ever imagined if I agree to take part in a competition.

Just get into the limousine. Just get on the private plane. Just fly to an airstrip at the foot of the largest, most luxurious estate I’ve ever seen. Just stay the first night, then another. Tell no one where I’ve gone, or why.

Everything in me screams to run away.

The rules say I can leave whenever I want.

So why am I still here?

Daniel stands. I stay sitting, desperate to leave. And I will, $3,500 richer.

There’s a bar along one wall. He’s using tongs to drop spheres of ice into an old-fashioned tumbler then pouring amber liquid atop them. The liquor doesn’t fully cover the ice. I wonder if this is how rich people get wasted — one sip at a time.

He sees me watching him. I avert my eyes, too late.

“Would you like a drink?”

I should say no. But I doubt he’s going to roofie me in a glass room in a public hotel, and whether it’s accepting gifts from an adversary or not, a stiff drink would make this easier.




He sets the bottle down and returns to his seat without pouring me a glass.

“Do you masturbate, Bridget?”

My jaw locks. I’m glaring into his face, but he’s kicked back now, sipping his drink.

“It’s a simple question.”

I shake my head, disbelieving. “Fuck you. Asshole.”

I stand.

“Not participating, then?” He looks at my bag, where I’ve stashed my check. I suppose I could run, but he — or Trevor Fucking Ross, who has more money than the nations of the world and surely wipes his ass with $2,500 — could easily void the check. And would, I feel certain.

“I’m not answering that.”

“Come on, Bridget. We all do it. I do it. I did it last night. Thinking of you.”

My eyes flick to his crotch. Traitors. And I get a flash of an image: his big hands on the thick dick I felt sliding inside me from behind in that alleyway, pumping it, spewing all over his fist in a gusher.

“Just admit it,” he says.

“Ask another question.”

“I already know you do. I want to hear you say it.”

I look down at my bag. At the door. And I say, “Fine.”

His eyebrows jump up as if he’s surprised. An amused smile forms on his lips. “You do? Well, that’s disgusting.”

I shake my head and stalk toward the door.

“Relax, Bridget. I’m only kidding. It’s not disgusting at all. In fact, if you were to do it right now, I’d join you.”

“Jesus. Fucking pig.”

He laughs. “Oh, my God, just forget it. I thought you had a sense of humor.”

But I know he wasn’t kidding.

“Please. Sit. Just questions, that’s all.”


“Because I want to know. Trevor wants to know.”

“I told you, I’m not a whore.”

“Nobody’s asking you to do anything you don’t choose to do. Now please, have a seat. I apologize.” He puts his hand on his heart, a parody of penitence.

I face him. Heart beating hard. But dammit. Dammit fuck dammit, I realize I’m actually wet for this son of a bitch. I can’t help it and won’t be blamed. It’s biology, not sense or dignity.

“The question, however, remains,” he says, returning to serious.

“What would your boss think of last night?” I ask, going on the offensive.

“He was very happy.”

“You told him?”

“And showed him the video. It’s why you’re here now.”

My internal temperature shoots up to a thousand degrees. I desperately look around for something to throw. Something to hurt him with. But there’s nothing except the chairs, some bolted-down artwork, and the bar, behind him.

This time, I yank the door open.

“You can keep the money,” he calls to me.

For some reason, I pause. But I refuse to look back.

“We can stop the interview if this is bothering you,” the voice continues. “And if so, the money is yours. I don’t mean to upset you.”

“Bullshit,” I spit.

“I’m serious. Why would I want to upset you, Bridget? I’m on your side here. You’re my favorite. I’m rooting for you.”

Rooting for me? Favorite? But fuck him; I won’t answer.

“Does this make you uncomfortable?”

I’m so angry. So unbelievably fucking angry.

“Just answer that one last question, Bridget. The questions I’ve asked in our interview: Do they bother you? Would you rather not answer?”

“Yes, they bother me. And fuck you; I won’t answer shit.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Sure you are.”

“I am. I figured this was turning you on.”

“You are such a piece of shit,” I growl.

“So this isn’t turning you on?”

“Of course it’s not.”

“You just seemed so hot for me last night. Because fuck, I was hot for you.”

I feel a rush of warmth. This isn’t fair.

“I didn’t know the truth last night. And I’d never do it again.”

“Hmm. Then I apologize. It just seemed to me that your nipples were getting hard while you sat here. And I can’t see your pussy, obviously, but … ” And he makes a vague gesture at my seat, as if I might have left a puddle.

But he’s right.

Fucking hell, he’s right.

I’m a gusher down below. I hate it and I hate him for it, but the truth is I feel it with every step I take. Thank God I’m not wearing a skirt; my panties would have a big dark spot right now.

I hate all of this.

And yet the way he sits there, I keep thinking of his hands on my shoulders. My face and chest against the cool brick wall. And his thick cock slamming into me over and over, making me come harder than I have in years.

I pull out the 2 envelope. It hurts me to give it back, but FUCK. THIS.

I crumple it up and am about to throw it to him when he says, “Keep it. The interview is over.”

I want to throw it, but it’s also three months’ rent, and he’s just said I can keep it.

I shove the wadded-up envelope into my bag and stomp out of the room. The door is almost entirely closed when I hear him say, “I know about Linda.”

I turn. I watch him through the glass.

He reaches for his folded-over suit jacket, into the pocket.

And holds up another envelope, marked with a 3.

Author Bio:
I love to write stories with characters that feel real enough to friend on Facebook, or slap across the face. I write to make you feel, think, and burn with the thrill that can only come from getting lost in the pages. I love to write unforgettable characters who wrestle with life's largest problems. My books may always end with a Happily Ever After, but there will always be drama on the way there.


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