Wednesday, March 7, 2018

Blogger Review: Finding Michael by Megan Slayer

Going home could be just the thing his muse needs and his heart desires.

Tristan Paulson needs the words to return. He loves his career penning novels of small-town love, but his muse has gone missing. Since he can’t write, he goes back to his roots to sort through the items his recently deceased uncle left behind. Once in Sullavan, Ohio, he realizes just how much he loved the place. Then he sees the handsome librarian—Michael is just the kind of guy he’s always wanted. How can he go back to the big city when Sullavan calls to him?

Michael Kane wants nothing more than to be surrounded by his books and the written word. He knows heartbreak and isn’t in the mood to put himself out into the dating pool again…until he sees Tristan. He wants to be with Tristan, but he’s too shy. A handsome man like Tristan wouldn’t be interested in someone quiet like Michael…would he?

Reader advisory: This book contains reference to stalking, harassment, emotional abuse and attempted suicide. There is a scene of a hostage situation containing a gun threat.

When Tristan Paulson finds that inspiration hasn't touched him lately and with a deadline looming overhead he decides its a perfect time to leave New York to go through his late uncle's estate.  Michael Kane is happy being surrounded by the books in the library even if he's reluctant to open his heart again.  When these two meet, the attraction is obvious but is either man ready or willing to put themselves out there?  When Tristan finds inspiration again in his new surroundings and in Michael, will he be able to convince Michael that its worth the risk?

Finding Michael is a lovely read.  I can't put it much simpler or sum it up more honestly, its just a lovely read from beginning to end.  Don't get me wrong, I wanted to knock some sense into both Tristan and Michael at times but I also wanted to give them a big hug to let them know someone cares.  Having lived my entire life in relatively small towns I can certainly understand Michael's feelings of staying in Sullivan and that New York is just not for him so that probably tipped the scales in his favor as to which corner I found myself in more.  That's not to say I didn't like Tristan because I loved his determination to make Michael see how great they could be. 

I really won't touch on the plot at all but Finding was just the right blend of romance, friendship, drama, and with just a hint of mystery to make it a very satisfying read.  Sometimes we find exactly what we need even though we never realized it was missing to begin with and when we find that missing piece everything else just falls into place.  This is what Finding Michael is about and Megan Slayer had me hooked from page one.  Truthfully, I was sad to see the last page come.  Finding Michael has definitely earned a spot on my romance shelf and future re-reads list.


“I’m so stuck it’s not even funny.” Tristan stared at his computer screen and groaned. He hadn’t written a word in more than a week. Writer’s block wasn’t his enemy and the occasional day without writing wasn’t the end of the world. But he hadn’t been able to work out an idea or even sketch a thin plot for anything.

He glanced over at the doorway. He hadn’t seen his butler in a while and didn’t like talking to himself. “Dennis?” He drummed his fingers on the desk top. “Are you there?”

The dry spells in his writing were getting closer together. He hadn’t produced a bestselling novel in the last two years. His last three books were well reviewed and had sold a good number of copies, but none were the fourth breakout book he needed. If he didn’t come up with a novel that sold well, he’d lose his contract with his publisher.

Part of him wanted to be angry. How dare they dump him? He’d sold over a million copies of his first three books and made the expected lists with all four. His publisher should have been grateful to have him on the roster.

Then there was the other part of him that never could quite come to terms with his ability to write. Throughout his life, all he’d wanted to do was make stories seem real. He could spin a yarn with the best storytellers, but he tended to downplay his talents. All the people who’d told him writing a book was easy would come to mind and he’d give in to his fears that he’d never produce another great work.

God, he needed a drink, a vacation and a good fuck. Unfortunately, he didn’t have any booze in the apartment, hadn’t gone away in a year and wasn’t in a relationship.

He’d have to settle for his hand and porn later. Damn it.

Then there was his muse…the uncooperative asshole. The muse wasn’t talking to him, which meant the characters weren’t either. Once he went down the rabbit hole of thinking about his inspiration, or lack thereof… That was when he got himself into trouble. If he didn’t write the next big thing, he’d have to dip into his trust fund to finance his career. He snorted. Most people wouldn’t think twice. If they were in his shoes, they’d use the money his parents had set aside for him and have a life. Not him. He’d prefer not to touch the surplus he’d saved up until it was necessary. But if he didn’t bring in cash soon, he’d have no choice.

Dennis strolled into the room and nodded. “Yes, sir.” He placed a stack of letters onto the desk, then clasped his hands together. “Did you need me?” If nothing else, his butler had great timing. Another minute longer and Tristan would’ve given in to another bout of depression.

“Thank you.” Tristan flipped through his correspondence. Dennis had been the father-figure Tristan hadn’t had often as a teenager. He knew Tristan better than anyone and tended to keep him on course. “Denny, I don’t know what to do about this writer’s block.” He scanned the return addresses on the letters. One from his publisher, one from a former boyfriend and three bills. He sighed. Bills sucked. He noticed the blank space on one of the envelopes. His address had been typed. “What’s this?” He turned the letter around. “I don’t remember signing up for mailing lists or anything that wouldn’t put a return address on it.”

“I saw that. Perhaps it’s one of the letters from a neighbor for one of the local fundraising groups.” Dennis cleared the empty takeout boxes from the coffee table. “I’ll be right back.”

Tristan waited for his butler to leave the room, then opened the odd letter. His chest tightened as he read the words. He should’ve guessed the plain envelope would contain a letter from his stalker-slash-fan.

Write about my town—Lewiston. I’m waiting.

He sank back in his seat and tossed the letter onto the desk. All of his stories were based in small towns. He’d picked the states at random and made up the names of his towns, but each was based on little burgs and crossroads he’d passed through during his various travels. He stated in the acknowledgments of each novel that the towns were fictitious representations of many places…never anywhere in particular.

He should turn the damn letter over to the police. But what would they do? He hadn’t been threatened. He’d been asked rather bluntly, yes. Threats? No. And he had no idea who the letter-writer was. How could he inform the cops if he had no leads?

Tristan closed his laptop, then scrubbed the back of his hand across his mouth. He couldn’t seem to put a foot right of late. Everything seemed to be disastrous—he’d lost his last boyfriend to another man, he couldn’t write for shit, if he didn’t write he’d be dropped, he had a bitching fan…what else could go wrong?

“Sir?” Dennis returned to the room. “This letter just arrived certified. I believe it’s from a lawyer. A Jamie Meyer. According to the accompanying letter, it concerns your Uncle Al.” He offered up the thick envelope.

“Uncle Al? Jamie Meyer?” He hadn’t heard from his mother’s brother in ages. “Hang on, I don’t know what this is about.” He opened the envelope, then withdrew the stack of pages. He barely read the words beyond the first two sentences. His uncle, his last link to his mother’s side of the family, had died and Tristan needed to collect his inheritance. Died. Uncle Al? The man might have been in his early eighties, but he was strong and healthy…wasn’t he? He turned back to his laptop and searched online for the lawyer. After the directive from the reader to write about a specific town, would that person be devious enough to cook up a false letter to get him to come to…? Nah. Sullavan wasn’t called Lewiston—that he knew. His thoughts were running away with him. Still, he wanted to make sure the lawyer was real.

The website for Jamie Meyer came up in the search. He clicked on the page. The photo stopped him short. Jamie Meyer was a darn good-looking man. Perfect hair, perfect teeth…a perfect suit based on what he could see from the shoulders-up pose. Tristan wondered what his voice was like. Christ. He needed to get laid so he’d stop wasting time with pictures on the screen and considering the guys as possible dates.


He glanced up at Dennis. Shit. He needed direction. “My uncle has passed. I’ve got an inheritance coming and I need to sort it out with the lawyer.”

“Mr. Meyer?”

“Yes.” He opened a new tab on his internet browser. He had to get his act together and plan his last-minute trip. Well, fuck. “I’ll need changes of clothes for at least a week. I doubt this will be a quick process.” Maybe he’d get a story out of the situation and a better understanding of the uncle he hadn’t seen in forever. The last thing he needed was to get mixed up with the lawyer handling his uncle’s estate.

“Do you want me to secure flights and accommodation?” Dennis asked. “I can look in to renting a private jet. I know how you hate crowds.”

“You’re right, I hate going out into crowds.” But he had to do this himself. He couldn’t rely on servants forever. “Just give me an hour and I’ll have you help me pack.”

“I see.” Dennis didn’t sound convinced.

Tristan logged in to his email, then paused. “If my agent calls, I’m writing. I’m going to email her in a moment, but she can be persistent. If Jordan calls, just take a message. We’re not together, but he doesn’t seem to know that.” His ex had been the one to call off the relationship, yet he’d show up when he wanted something—a place to crash, money, sex… Tristan didn’t have the time for him any longer. “If any more of those strange letters come without a return address, just put them aside. I don’t want to be bothered.”

“Why? Is that reader still writing to you?” Dennis folded his arms. For a man of sixty, he didn’t look his age. He kept his salt-and-pepper hair trimmed and stayed in shape. If the age gap hadn’t been so wide, Tristan might have made a play for him.

“Yeah. I’m not scared, but I don’t trust him or her.”

“There wasn’t a signature on this letter?”

“No,” Tristan said. “Nothing. Not even an initial. The writer simply wants me to create a town based on Lewiston. I have no idea where that place is.”

“I’ve never heard of it.”

“Me either.”

“I’ll be careful, sir, and I think you should, too. I’ve got some laundry to finish. When you need me, let me know.” Dennis turned on his heel and strode out of the room, leaving Tristan with his thoughts.

Tristan cracked his knuckles, then placed his hands on the keyboard. He hadn’t been to his uncle’s home in years. Was Sullavan, Ohio, still on the map? He brought up the street map, then located the town. Not any bigger than he’d remembered, but still in existence. If he wasn’t mistaken, the small town was about an hour’s drive from Cleveland. Not great, but it’d give him time to plot a new story. Besides, Sullavan would be good fodder for his trademark small-town setting. His spirits brightened. He had no idea what he’d inherited, but if he could use the situation to plot his next book, he’d be golden.

Half an hour later, Tristan had the plane tickets purchased and a rental car secured for when he arrived in Cleveland. He’d emailed his editor and explained the situation—he had an outline started and would be getting her up to speed within the next week, but after he spoke to the lawyer about his uncle’s will. He shut down his laptop and placed the three memory sticks in his messenger bag. He’d finish gathering his writing things together once he’d packed.

Tristan headed down the hallway to his bedroom. Dennis had left his open suitcase on the bed. Instead of thinking too hard about what he had to do, Tristan set about putting his bathroom essentials into his bag.

Dennis strode into the bedroom with a basket of clean clothes. “What should I do if your Aunt Salina calls? Should I tell her where you’ll be?”

Tristan zipped his bag. “No. I’m not on her social calendar unless she wants something. She’s obsessed with her step-daughter’s wedding and I, the son of her only brother, don’t matter. Babsy is much more important than I ever will be.” Not that he cared. He hadn’t been particularly close to his father’s side of the family and they only liked him when they wanted to flaunt his status in the book world or to bolster their place on the social registry.

“Don’t refer to your cousin Jean as Babsy.” Dennis tucked the bag into the suitcase. “It’s her mother’s right to want to spoil her.”

“Whatever.” He didn’t fault his aunt for the spoiling part, just the lack of interest.

“You could have a wedding,” Dennis said. “It’s not illegal.”

“Ah, but no one wants to marry me.” He pulled a stack of T-shirts out of the dresser. He laughed, despite not finding the situation amusing. He’d like to be with a man who craved him, not one who wanted his money. “I can’t seem to keep a relationship going. That doesn’t sound like the right start for a marriage.” He paused. “I should probably find a man before I get too deep into planning the wedding, too.”

Dennis took the shirts from him. “Alec wasn’t too bad. He seemed sweet.”

“Anyone’s sweet when they see dollar signs.”

“What about Cody? You liked him. I believe you were going to have him move in with you.” Dennis packed the T-shirts, then opened the closet. “What about pants? Are you wearing jeans or do you need something dressier?”

“Denim.” He counted out seven pairs of jeans, then offered them up to Dennis. “Cody was a good man, but I couldn’t compete with him. Every time I turned around, he’d be checking himself out in the mirror. I know I’m not perfect, but I’m not awful. When I stood beside him, I felt so…ugly.” He turned his back on Dennis. Truth be told, whenever he looked at his reflection, he saw the chunky kid he had been in junior high. Growing twenty years older hadn’t changed his body image problems. He’d worked out, lost the weight and ate much better than during his school years, but his inner chubby kid lingered. He closed his eyes. Now wasn’t the right time to let himself think about his inadequacies.

“And Justin was bad, how?”

“He wasn’t.” Justin hadn’t been the issue. “We clicked in bed, but there wasn’t anything otherwise.” Tristan had gotten himself so wrapped up in his own self-esteem problems, he hadn’t given Justin enough of a chance. But that was in the past. He needed to move forward.

“Uh-huh.” Dennis nodded once. “This trip is about the will and research, isn’t it? You’ll get a book out of the situation if it kills you, won’t you?”

“That’s the plan.” He tossed underwear and socks into the suitcase. “My career is off track. This will be the push to get it righted.” He hoped. “Where are my notebooks?”

“In your office,” Dennis said. “I’ll get them and your fountain pen set.”

“Thanks.” Tristan walked into his closet and appraised his collection of shoes. Christ. He had money. He didn’t have to work. Using the trust fund cash wasn’t horrible. Lots of others lived perfectly happy lives paid for by the money from someone else’s hard work. Why couldn’t he do the same? His parents had given him the cash without question. He grabbed his running shoes and a pair of casual ones, then closed the door.

He’d built his career as a writer. Constant funding and huge paychecks weren’t guaranteed. He’d lived on less and done just fine. He could do so again—especially if the story panned out and he found his muse. Who knew a will could hold so many possibilities for creativity?

Author Bio:
When she's not writing the stories in her head, Megan Slayer can be found luxuriating in her hot tub with her two vampire Cabana boys, Luke and Jeremy. She has the tendency to run a tad too far with her muse, so she has to hide in the head of her alter ego, but the boys don't seem to mind.

When she's not obsessing over her whip collection, she can be found picking up her kidlet from school.

She enjoys writing in all genres, but writing about men in love suits her fancy best.



Release Tour: For You, I Will by Georgia Lyn Hunter

Title: For You, I Will
Author: Georgia Lyn Hunter
Series: Fallen Guardian #3.5
Genre: Paranormal Romance
Release Date: March 6, 2018
It should have been the happiest time of their lives…

As a Guardian of the realm, Blaéz is aware of the danger that can shadow him, but he’s determined to give his human mate the wedding of her dreams. Flowers, ring, and all, including following a baffling mortal tradition of abstinence—a challenge he gamely takes on.

Then the past and future clash…

Things start to unravel when an old adversary from an accursed life he thought long over suddenly reappears. Blaéz realizes it’s a tie he must sever and finally put an end to a longstanding feud. A straightforward job…until his vindictive nemesis snatches his mate.

It’s a time of reckoning…

Blaéz will risk and do anything to get her back. But first, he must face his own dark and painful past for a future with the one woman who is his very heartbeat.

If he doesn’t, it just might destroy everything he’s fought for…

As they passed the bikers hanging near the motorcycles and puffing up a pungent storm of smoke, Blaéz slowed down, scanning the side street. At the sudden prickles coasting his skin, he changed direction and headed deeper into the alley instead of finding a darkened place to dematerialize back home. Away from the humans, he moved in preternatural speed, skirting the dumpsters and several fallen crates spilled in his path.

“O-kay, so we’re heading for Club Anarchy instead of the castle.” Týr’s droll tone drifted to him. “You need…entertaining?”

“Not at all.” Blaéz halted, the itch bearing down his back intensifying. He searched the dark alley with its looming warehouses. “Something doesn’t feel right, and hasn’t for a while.”

“Well, then, let’s find out what shit’s stirring and clean it out.” A dark grin appeared. “It’s been my kinda week. Blood, gore, and chances of more decapitation? Perfect.”

Blaéz shook his head at Týr’s penchant for bloody violence and surveyed the rooftops of the warehouses. “You sure have a way with words. Hallmark should be grateful they don’t have you on their team.”

“Maybe I’ll compose a sonnet for the wedding.”

Blaéz heard the smirk in his tone. “Like I want to hear your drivel.”

“Don’t knock my verse ‘til you’ve heard it, you uneducated SOB,” he retorted, and cheerfully strolled where even angels feared to tread. “Roses are red, violets are blue—”

“For fuck’s sakes! They’re bloody purple.”

“Stop with the interruptions. Don’t care if they’re pink, it’s how the damn rhyme goes. Roses are red, violets are blue, Darci’s so lovely, how in the hell did she end up with a fucker like you—” His amused gaze shifted to Blaéz. “Okay, it needs some fine-tuning, but I should be good to go on the big day.”

“Not if you want to keep your head.” Blaéz slowed down, his attention on the throng of people lumbering out of the club. A flash of light hair caught his gaze and an eerily familiar sensation skated over his psyche. “Shit.”

“What?” Týr asked, scanning the crowd, too.

Without answering, Blaéz took off across the street. Since the demon bouncers knew the Guardians, he sprinted into the club, avoiding the partygoers in the dimly lit corridor, and shoved the metal door open. The pounding rock music reverberating against the walls barely made an impact as he dodged bodies fumbling about in the darkened club, skidding to a halt on the landing. He scanned the interior. Despite the imminent arrival of closing time, the place still swarmed with revelers.

“Fuck, Celt, who the hell are we chasing? At least then I know whom to kill,” Týr growled from his side.

“I’m not sure…I think I saw Finnén.”

Týr cut him a sharp look. “Your twin?”

His expression grim, Blaéz nodded, probing the upper VIP level with his mind for his kin’s familiar vibe.

“Perhaps you saw someone else who looks like him?”

“Perhaps. He wouldn’t dare show his face in this realm knowing I wouldn’t hesitate to kill him if he came after us again.”

Breaking Fate #2
For You, I Will is a companion novella to Breaking Fate
An immortal without a soul is bad enough. But when his only tether to remaining honorable is his addiction to bone-crushing pain, it makes Blaéz a dangerously loose cannon.

A Guardian sworn to protect mortals from supernatural evil, Blaéz straddles the edge of darkness as his needs grow. When a good deed brings him to the doorstep of a female unlike any other, one whose touch ignites emotions long lost in the hellish pits of Tartarus, he’s determined not to lose her. She belongs to him. But she’s human. Forbidden. And bringing her into his life may just destroy them both.

Darci Callahan has given up on love. But when a lethally handsome stranger suddenly appears late one night, she finds herself inexplicably drawn to the captivating man with the pale, empty eyes—a man who awakens in her a desire she never believed possible. Except Blaéz brings more than unexpected passion to her life, he brings danger.

In this treacherous new world of gods and demons, Darci soon discovers a heart-shattering truth and the twisted games the gods play. Caught in the crosshairs, she’s forced to accept that, sometimes, no matter how much you love someone, you have to love them enough to let them go…

Author Bio:
I’ve been creating stories from the moment I could string two words together. No matter the tale, it always has romance woven through them. Yes, I'm a hopeless romantic.

When I’m not writing or plotting new books, I like to read, travel, painting, or troll flea markets where I usually buy things I might never actually use because they're so pretty.

After working in a few jobs all art related, a chosen career as a fashion designer, then an art teacher, I finally found my passion four years ago: writing. There really is no other job I’d rather do.

Oh, and I live in the beautiful country of South Africa.


For You, I Will #3.5


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Blog Tour: The Time of My Life by Nora Phoenix

Title: The Time of My Life
Author: Nora Phoenix
Genre: M/M Romance
Release Date: February 8, 2018
Cover Design: Jay Aheer at Simply Defined Art
Denver is determined to realize his lifelong dream of becoming a singer. That’s why entering in The Right Note TV contest is the biggest opportunity he’ll ever get. After everything he’s been through with the boyfriend (now ex) from hell, he will not risk losing himself ever again, especially over a guy.

Judah has almost hit rock bottom. His dream to make it as a singer and musician is all but dead. Added to that, he’s broke and he’s about to outwear his welcome with his friends. Taking part in The Right Note is his last chance, but he cannot afford to show who he really is at the risk of permanently alienating his conservative family.

Denver doesn’t want to be drawn to Judah, ‘cause the guy spells trouble in every way. But the heart wants what it wants, and Denver seems unable to say no, even when Judah keeps switching from hot to cold on him.

When Judah meets Denver, he knows he’s in deep, deep trouble. He fights the attraction with everything he’s got, but Denver draws him in like the sun. Being with him comes at a price, however, and it’s not just jeopardizing winning the contest. When Denver’s ex stirs up trouble, Judah has to make a decision. Is Denver worth putting everything on the line for?

The Time of My Life is a steamy stand-alone MM romance with a sweet HEA. Please note trigger warnings for domestic abuse and rape. 97k words.

“Are you about done pretending to ignore me?” Judah asked.

Busted. Denver looked up, caught Judah smirking at him. “I was trying to be polite,” he said in a weak attempt to defend himself.

“The polite thing would be to offer me some underwear, since I didn’t have time to bring any.”

“Underwear,” Denver repeated. His brain seemed to have stopped working at the mere thought of Judah being naked under that towel. Of Judah wearing Denver’s tight boxers, which would be even tighter on him since he was bigger.

“Yes, underwear,” Judah said, that smirk broadening into an irresistible grin. “You know, those boxer or brief type of fabric men tend to wear under their pants. Unless you want me to go commando?”

Naked. Naked under that towel. Naked wearing only sweat pants. It was hard to think when images were assaulting his mind. Very visual images. Denver swallowed.

“Think you could get to it anytime soon?”

Denver finally managed to get up from the bed and walked to the closet as if in a daze. He took the first pair he could find, the same dark blue he was wearing.

He didn’t trust himself to get too close to Judah, wasn’t sure if he could keep himself from reaching out and touching. Touching that chest dusted with dark hairs, or the happy trail leading to… Yeah, he needed to stay away. He threw the boxers to Judah, who caught them with his left hand.

“I’m gonna… I’m gonna step out for a second,” Denver mumbled. He didn’t look at Judah as he quickly stepped into the hallway, softly closing the door behind him. Judah’s soft laughter followed him, tickling his belly.

Author Bio:
When she was a little tot, Nora’s mom got a library subscription for her. That, as they say, was that, and a lifelong love for books was born. Nora never stopped reading and doesn’t exaggerate when she says she devours books, rather than plain reads them. She started writing stories as soon as she could hold a pen, and wrote her first full book as a teen (on a typewriter!). It took her waaaay too long to follow her dream to become a romance author.

Nora writes M/M romance, because hello, sexy boys, and likes her men flawed, strong, and a tad broken. She appreciates a little kink, but insists on a happy ever after.


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