Monday, May 21, 2018

Monday's Memorial Moment: Robbie Riverton - Mail Order Bride by Eli Easton

Being a fugitive in the old west shouldn’t be this much fun.

The year is 1860. Robby Riverton is a rising star on the New York stage. But he witnesses a murder by a famous crime boss and is forced to go on the run--all the way to Santa Fe. When he still hasn't ditched his pursuers, he disguises himself as a mail order bride he meets on the wagon train. Caught between gangsters that want to kill him, and the crazy, uncouth family of his "intended", Robby's only ally is a lazy sheriff who sees exactly who Robby is -- and can't resist him.

Trace Crabtree took the job as sheriff of Flat Bottom because there was never a thing going on. And then Robby Riverton showed up. Disguised as a woman. And betrothed to Trace’s brother. If that wasn’t complication enough, Trace had to find the man as appealing as blueberry pie. He urges Robby to stay undercover until the danger has passed. But a few weeks of having Robby-Rowena at the ranch, and the Crabtree family will never be the same again.

Robbie Riverton had a bright future ahead of him on the stage in 1860 New York but one fateful night everything changed.  Witnessing a murder he hightails it out of town and while on the wagon train he meets mail order bride Rowena Fairchild.  Through a few more twists of fate, Robbie takes Rowena's place with the Crabtree family. But when he meets son Trace, sheriff of Flat Bottom, more than his life is at risk.   Nothing will ever be the same for each member of the Crabtrees after they welcome Robbie Riverton, mail-order bride into their home.

How can one not fall in love with Robbie Riverton is beyond me, he is so absolutely adorable and anyone who can make such an impact on a whole family in such a short space of time is aces in my book.  Trace is no slouch himself when it comes to enjoyable, would I call him adorable? Probably not but he is certainly lovely and one I rooted for from the very first moment we meet him.  You just know the fire between them will rival any shoot-'em-up the Old West has to offer.  Now I won't give anything away but I will say that Robbie's journey is one I won't soon forget and I'll be re-visiting on more than one occassion in the future.

I haven't read everything in Eli Easton's library but what I have read has never failed to entertain and Mail Order Bride is no different.  Taking her spin on romance, her character development, her way with scenery and dialogue, and putting it into a historical setting was just one of the best reading treats I could ask for.  Was it a bit of a far-reaching idea for 1860? Some might see it that way but history does contain some interesting twists and turns.  This is fiction after all and Robbie Riverton: Mail Order Bride is clever, fun, sweet, and entertaining from beginning to end with just the right amount of heat and humor, I hated to say goodbye to the lads when I swiped the final page.  Who knows maybe if we're real nice and real lucky we'll see the boys again in one of Miss Eaton's famous Christmas stories😉😉 but if this was the only time we see them, Holy Hannah Batman! what a winner!


Chapter One
March 15, 1860
New York City
“It was from Aunt Dinah’s quilting party, I was seeing Nellie home!”

Robby’s melodic tenor echoed in the narrow corridors backstage as he made his way to his dressing room. He exchanged winks, grins, or backslaps with everyone who squeezed past him. He was in a damned pleasant mood. The standing ovation they’d just received had put him on top of the world.

“Seeeing Nellie hoooome!” he bellowed in the big finish as he banged into his dressing room. His name, ROBBY RIVERTON, was on the door, and there was a water pitcher and a single rose on the table. This was the good life.

He plopped down at his dressing table. In the mirror Jenny Daley appeared, looking like an exotic flower in her red kimono. She leaned against the doorframe. “How you have a scrap of energy after three shows a day, I’ll never know.”

“Tis the reward of a pure and saintly heart,” Robby said, laying on a thick Irish brogue.

“Bollocks. You’re depressingly young. That’s all.”

Jenny Daley was a huge star of the New York stage. She played Lady Macbeth in their current production, and easily convinced the audience she could bend a man to her will with her raven hair and green eyes. She’d managed to outrun her age so far, though Robby figured she had to be nearing forty.

“You hardly even break a sweat,” Jenny complained.

“Nonsense. I’m wet as the Hudson in unmentionable places. Lord, I’m parched.” Robby reached for the pitcher. It was vilely hot onstage, especially under the costumes and makeup. He tilted the china pitcher over a glass, but nothing came out.

“Flory!” he bellowed. He went to the doorway, squishing Jenny aside, and stuck his head out. “Flory!”

Jenny stuck a delicate finger in her ear. “And to think I once had excellent hearing.”

Flory, a mousy little thing of about fourteen, came running. “Yes, Mr. Riverton?”

Robby ignored the hearts in her eyes. “My pitcher is empty again. How many times must I remind you to keep it filled?”

Her face fell. “Sorry, Mr. Riverton.” She bobbed a curtsy and ran off with the pitcher. With a huff, Robby returned to his chair.

“Don’t be hard on the girl,” Jenny tsked. “She’s awfully mashed on you, Robby.”

Robby began wiping off his makeup. “You forget, I was that girl. I labored backstage for four years, and I always had water ready for the actors.”

“Yes, but you are smart and capable,” Jenny said gently. “Thank God not everyone is, or we’d have even more competition than we have now.”

Robby gave her a smile in the mirror. “You’re right. Though how you stay so humble, I’ll never know.”

She made a face. “I’ve been set down a peg or two in my life. Now, are you coming out with us tonight? Don’t tell me you’re working, for I shall despair if you say no.”

Robby grimaced. “Not tonight, me bonny lass. I have an audition tomorrow. Need to memorize my lines.”

“Oh? What’s the play?” Jenny slunk into the room with renewed interest.

“Nick of the Woods at the Tripler.” Longing shot through Robby’s chest. He really wanted this role.

“Ooh! That ghastly thing?” She looked delighted.

“Yes, life in the wilds of Kentucky. It’s quite bloody, you know.”

“The play is? Or the real Kentucky?”


She shuddered. “Lands. You couldn’t drag me any farther west than Philadelphia.”

“I concur. But playing a frontiersman would be loads of fun. Don’t you think? All that growling and snarling and…hair.” Robby made claws with his hands and grimaced horribly at her in the mirror.

She laughed. “Darling, you growl like a kitten. You’d sooner be cast as Nick’s wife. Want to borrow my red dress for the audition?” She smiled at him prettily.

“Nick doesn’t have a wife. He has animal pelts, and knives, and a vengeful heart.”

“Pity. You’d be a shoe-in for Mrs. Of-the-Woods.”

Robby would never live down the fact that his first big break at Burton’s New Theater had been in a female role. He’d been working in costuming when the actress playing Ophelia fell ill with the flu, as did the understudy and several other cast members. Hamlet had been his mother’s favorite, and Robby had every line of the play memorized. He’d stepped forward and, at nineteen, got his first role on stage. The audience and critics had loved his “tender insanity.”

Well, why not? Men played women’s roles in the olden days. If anything, Robby considered it a double feat of acting—playing the part of “Miss Angeline Smith” who was playing the role of Ophelia. He was blasted proud of that performance.

“I can growl,” he said firmly. “When you come see me in Nick of the Woods, I shall put you into convulsions of terror.”

 “Well, good luck, my bene boy. We shall miss you tonight. You know what they say about all work and no play.”

She kissed his cheek and glided from the room, a picture of grace.

She didn’t give Robby the chance to respond, but what he said about all work and no play was that if he were very diligent, and very lucky, he might one day be as famous as Jenny Daley.

Robby finished removing his makeup, thanked Flory and gave her a sweet smile when she returned with water, and put on an undershirt and dressing gown. He settled down with a bottle of wine an admirer had sent backstage, turned up the lantern to its highest pitch, and dove into the realm of the dreadful Nick. He paced and grimaced, shouted and groaned.

He could growl, damn it. He needed a role like Nick. He’d been playing pretty boys for five years now, always the son or the young, naive lover. Hence his role as MacDuff’s son in the current production and not Macbeth. He needed to prove he was ready for mature roles despite his baby face.

He was so focused on his task that he lost track of time. Then tiredness hit him like a sledgehammer from out of the blue, and he could barely keep his eyes open. He glanced at his pocket watch. It was just after midnight. The unsavory elements would be out and about, and it was a twelve-block trek to Mrs. Grassley’s boarding house. He should have left hours ago.

When he exited the back door of the theater, the sky was pitch black and the city was transformed by the flicker and shadow of gas lamps. It was cold, the sort of cold that made the inside of your nose crisp and brought tears to your eyes. Robby pulled on his gloves, struggling with them under the back door’s gas light. At least the cold woke him up. If he walked fast, he’d be home in no time.

Only he got no farther than one step. He was suddenly aware that near the opening of the alley were moving shapes. There was a shouted, “No, please,” and a barely there snick of a knife.

Robby blinked in surprise. His eyes adjusted to the shadows just in time to see the act. Two large men held the arms of a dignified-looking fellow with gray hair, an elaborate moustache, and a three-piece suit. A fourth man, a short bulldog of a brute with thick jowls, a heavy wool coat, and a bowler hat, attacked the gray-haired man, jabbing forward with his right arm. The victim’s face contorted with agony as the knife plunged. Bowler-Hat stabbed again and again until the man with the gray hair slumped, lifeless. And still the knife moved once, twice.

Robby was so close, he could see the sticky glint on the blade.

He only realized he was panting in terror by the rapid cloud of condensation that formed in front of his face and faded, formed and faded. Then he made an involuntary sound, a sort of lowing, and the three men snapped around to look at him.

“Don’t stand there, you nimenogs. Get him!” Bowler-Hat bellowed.

The men who were holding the victim let him drop to the cobblestones. It wasn’t until they’d taken a step toward Robby that he found the sense to move. He briefly considered going back into the theater, but the door had locked behind him, and there was no time to muck around with keys now. He dove to the right. The alley wasn’t a dead end, thank God. He came out on Centre Street, the sound of his pursuers loud in his ears. He ran harder and faster than he’d ever run before in his life, on and on, street after street, turning as often as he could. He finally turned onto a familiar street and, seeing no one when he glanced behind him, dove into the Long Shoreman.

Jenny and her friends frequented the establishment often, and Robby was not unknown there. The owner, Phil, was a good sort. After no more than a brief plea, Phil stuffed Robby into his private office then vanished again. With his ear pressed to the door, Robby heard Phil’s voice and the angry demands of his pursuers. The back door banged as someone rushed out.

For a long moment all was silent, and there was only the pounding of Robby’s blood in his ears. Then a light tap on the door startled him. Robby stepped back to let Phil in.

Phil carried a whiskey bottle and two shot glasses, and he filled them. “They’re gone. Here, drink this.”

Robby took his and swallowed gratefully.

“What the hell was that about?” Phil grumbled. “Is The Weekly Sun hiring thugs as their critics now?”

“I saw a murder.” Robby’s voice was hushed, as if it were afraid to come out. He dropped down onto a settee crowded with coats, the strength leaving his limbs.

“No kiddin’? Did ya really?” Phil didn’t sound especially surprised. Murders were far from uncommon in New York City. “Well, we can smuggle you outta here after a bit, and you should be all right. I told ’em you went out the back and off they went.

Robby shook his head. It had all been such a blur. But a heavy, dark feeling was settling on him, a sense of utter doom and dread. “No, they saw me coming out of the theater. Had to have gotten a good look at my face. There’s a gas lamp above the door.”

“Oh. That’s a bit of rum luck.” Phil pushed aside some coats and sat down next to Robby. He poured them both another shot.

“And I was so thrilled to have that new poster of me stuck up at the front of the Burton too,” Robby said with a bitter laugh.

It had pricked Robby’s pride every time he passed that poster. There were five glass frames hanging at the front of the theater, and several were dedicated to the current and next production, so being featured in one of the remaining slots was the privilege of a drawing attraction.

The poster depicted Robby standing with one foot on a stool, a dashing cape cast over his shoulder, his face angelic as he looked toward the heavens. The costume, complete with leggings and puffy pantaloons, was from his recent role as Laertes in Hamlet. His face, unfortunately, was completely bare in the image, without even whiskers to disguise him. WITH ROBBY RIVERTON the poster proudly announced.

Yes, it was rum luck. The rummiest. Robby wondered how long it would take the men to trace him to Mrs. Grassley’s boarding house. A day? An hour?

“Ah, Robby, I wouldn’t worry about it,” Phil said amiably. “They’re probably some no-accounts who won’t even bother to go look at the front of the theater. Why should they? You saw something, they scared you off, end of story. It was dark, wasn’t it? You probably didn’t get a good look at their faces. They’ve no reason to track you down.”

Robby stared at Phil, that sense of doom settling deeper. Ice crept up his spine and he thought he might cast up his accounts. This couldn’t be happening. Dear Lord, his life was ruined. Scorched earth. He couldn’t go back to the Burton, or any other theater in New York. He probably shouldn’t even go back to Mrs. Grassley’s to collect his things.

Because he had recognized them, or at least one of them. He’d just seen Mose “The Terror” McCann, leader of the Bowery Boys and the most notorious gangster in New York, murder a man in cold blood. And Mose McCann was known for being smart, vicious, and very careful to never leave witnesses.

Robby grabbed Phil’s shoulders with both hands, like he might grab a life raft in a treacherous sea. “You must help me get out of town, Phil. Because if I don’t, I’m a dead man.”

Author Bio:
Having been, at various times and under different names, a minister’s daughter, a computer programmer, a game designer, the author of paranormal mysteries, a fan fiction writer, and organic farmer, Eli has been a m/m romance author since 2013. She has over 30 books published.

Eli has loved romance since her teens and she particular admires writers who can combine literary merit, genuine humor, melting hotness, and eye-dabbing sweetness into one story. She promises to strive to achieve most of that most of the time. She currently lives on a farm in Pennsylvania with her husband, bulldogs, cows, a cat, and lots of groundhogs.

In romance, Eli is best known for her Christmas stories because she’s a total Christmas sap. These include “Blame it on the Mistletoe”, “Unwrapping Hank” and “Merry Christmas, Mr. Miggles”. Her “Howl at the Moon” series of paranormal romances featuring the town of Mad Creek and its dog shifters has been popular with readers. And her series of Amish-themed romances, Men of Lancaster County, has won genre awards.

In 2018 Eli hopes to do more of the same, assuming they reschedule the apocalypse.


Release Tour: Love Torn by Stacy Eaton

Title: Love Torn
Author: Stacy Eaton
Series: Twisted Love #2
Genre: Romantic Suspense, Police Procedural
Release Date: May 19, 2018
Detective Kali Mann lives by her nickname: The Mann-Eater. She’s a true love them and leave them with no attachments—ever. She’s hard-core, to the point, intense and she doesn’t always play nice with others. When her partner, Keith Harvard, finally gets her to take notice of him, the case they are working goes awry, and suddenly Kali is having emotions she’s not sure she wants. A major part of her past will come back to haunt her and just as she beings to open herself up, her life will be torn apart.

Love Torn is the second book in the Twisted Love Series. The first book, Love Lorn, was written by Amy Manemann. If you haven't read it, nows the time to so that you have the backstory on Detective Evie Harper when they two characters are partnered together in Love Inked.

I smiled into Westing’s blue eyes. There was no doubt I cared about the handsome guy, but we were just friends—friends with benefits when we were in a lull between other relationships. Well, he did relationships. I just had sex. I wasn’t interested in happily-ever-after. I’d seen what that fairy tale did to people, and it wasn’t a Disney song and dance with fireworks bursting over their heads as their lips first touched.

Love was brutal—useless. It clawed out your heart and voided your soul. It burrowed deep into your psyche and turned you into someone you weren’t; it forced you to do things you never would have done under normal circumstances. It tore you apart, fiber by fiber, until you were nothing but a shell of yourself.

Besides, the divorce rate between cops was off the charts, right up there with suicide rates for our profession. Who needed that shit?

If I wanted to get off—and I did often—I had a list of guys I could reach out and touch. The contacts on my phone were packed with digits to dial for a good time, but I never got serious with any of them. In fact, Josh was the only guy with whom I’d ever had seconds—and thirds—and more. Maybe it was because we never discussed it. We knew what the other one liked; we jumped in, got off, and then kissed the other goodbye as we walked away with a smile and a wave.

That was the kind of relationship that I liked: love them and leave them and not feel guilty about it—no heartstrings, no hopes.

Westing winked at me. “Alright, Mann, it’s your round.”

“Got it.” I went to scoot off my stool and put my hand down to the side to steady myself. Instead of landing on the side of my seat as I’d anticipated, my palm landed on Harvard’s thick, slack-clad thigh which rested against my stool. Instantly, the muscle under my hand bunched, and I found myself taking my time climbing out of my seat. As I got to my feet, my hand leisurely slid over the slick material of his slacks.

I peered his way before I turned for the bar and his heavy, dark lashes blinked slowly over his eyes, a knowing smirk lifting the corners of his full lips. Yeah, Keith Harvard and I were partners, and for the last six months, we’d kept it on the straight and narrow. Recently, things had changed, though. I was starting to seriously wonder how much longer we’d be able to keep it strictly professional. I was torn on this, as I really enjoyed working with him and dreaded the day I’d have to put in for a partner transfer.

Two weeks ago, Keith and I had slipped around the side of a row home on a warrant execution, heading toward the small backyard. We had committed to our forward direction and were about three feet from the corner we’d just come around when we had come under fire. Keith had bum-rushed me behind a small stone wall that normally housed trash cans. The two of us had just enough space to safely hide on our knees as long as I hugged the stone up close and personal, and he did the same to me. I tried not to think about how filthy the area was as my skin made contact with it.

Maybe it was the adrenaline that had us jonesing for action, or possibly it had just been a while since Keith had gotten off. Either way, as he kneeled behind me, our bodies were crushed together, my chest flattened against the stone, my cheek pressing against the cool, foul-smelling smooth surface as his hot breath rushed along the side of my face. His muscular chest was compressed against my back hard enough that I knew no light could be seen between our bodies. I could feel his heart beating fast and strong against my left shoulder blade. One of his legs nestled between mine, his thick thigh wedged snugly against my ass, pushing my hips roughly against the stone. After a moment, I realized that the other hard thing against my ass wasn’t a bone but a boner. Well—damn.

Love Lorn by Amy Manemann #1
Determined to prove she’s more than just a pretty face, Detective Evie Harper works hard and trains even harder to be the very best. Her first homicide case will put her skills to the test as she and her partner, Detective Stephen Harris, track a ruthless serial killer terrorizing the west end of town. The Lovelorn killer may be one step ahead of them, but they’re closing in fast — until an immoral decision is made that leaves their partnership hanging in the balance.

Love Lorn, is the first book in a six-book series called The Twisted Love Series. While this book was written by me, Amy Manemann, the second book, Love Torn, will be written USA Bestselling Author, Stacy Eaton. The two of us have worked together on these two books so our stories run parallel and prepare you for the first full-length novel in the series coming this fall. 

Love Inked 
The first full length co-authored novel, Love Inked, will introduce author Amy Manemann’s Detective Evie Harper with author Stacy Eaton’s Kali Mann as they become partners. Their lives are about to change, and the cases they will investigate will be intense. Between a new serial murder and dealing with their pasts, these two will be tearing up the streets and the pages as they deal with Twisted Love.

Love Inked is slated to release in later Summer/early Fall.

Author Bio:
Stacy Eaton is a USA Today Best Selling author and began her writing career in October of 2010. Stacy took an early retirement from law enforcement after over fifteen years of service in 2016, with her last three years in investigations and crime scene investigation to write full time.

Stacy resides in southeastern Pennsylvania with her husband, who works in law enforcement, and her teen daughter who is working toward her second degree black belt in Tae Kwon Do and on the choral and cheerleading squads at school. She also has a son who is currently serving in the United States Navy.

Stacy is very involved in Domestic Violence Awareness and served on the Board of Directors for her local Domestic Violence Center for three years.

Be sure to visit her website for updates and more information on her books.  

Sign up for all the latest information on Stacy’s Newsletter!


Love Torn #2

Love Lorn #1

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Release Blitz: Lawyer's Secret Omega by Bella Bennet

Title: Lawyer's Secret Omega
Author: Bella Bennet
Series: Dewey Cheetum & Howe Law #1
Genre: M/M Romance, Mpreg, non-shifter
Release Date: May 14, 2018
Cover Artist: Cosmic Letterz
When paralegal Omega Ryan is moved onto his crush's team, it was only a matter of time before the law firm workplace rule of no employee dating was broken.

Now, as Ryan's boss, wealthy Alpha law firm partner Marcus has a secret pregnancy and relationship with Ryan to hide or they'll lose their jobs.

But the secret pregnancy is the least of their problems when Ryan's parents find out...

Workplace unresolved tension. A forbidden romance. An unplanned pregnancy. Can a partner-phobic Alpha and a reluctant Omega seize their chance at happiness?

Lawyer's Secret Omega is a 64,000 word mpreg romance with a surprise wedding, an Alpha to the rescue, steamy times in the boss's office and HEA.

I gathered my things, followed Marcus into his office, and shut the door. I was nervous about Amy or Luke figuring out that I had fucked my boss last weekend. I was starting to realize how careful we had to be, and how much was at stake. I couldn't believe I was doing this, but nobody could force me to turn away from Marcus. He was the man I wanted. The alpha I wanted.  There was no way I was giving him up.

Marcus was standing right in front of me when I turned around from closing the door. "I actually do want to go over the Foreman case with you, but first..." He grabbed my legal pad out of my hands, setting them on the desk behind him without even looking. Then he ran his hands through my hair, and down my neck and chest.

"Just kiss me already."

Marcus pulled me towards him, walking backwards until he hit the desk, then he turned around and pushed me against the desk.

"Oh don't worry, I plan to."

The heat in his eyes matched mine. My cock had woken up when Marcus stood near me in the paralegal section, but now it was well on its way to a full hard-on.  He leaned in, gently kissing me, but I grabbed the back of his head and a handful of ass and dove in like he was a slice of New York cheesecake. Marcus hesitated, probably from shock, then he took control and drove me absolutely wild. He ran his hands over my back, played with my hair, thumbed my nipples.  He pulled me closer to him.  I sat back on the desk and wrapped my legs around him as we kissed, rubbing against each other.

I had to take a breath. Marcus licked a trail from my collarbone up to my jaw. "My God, you are fucking amazing." That may not have been the most eloquent thing anyone has ever said to their lover, but it was the only words in my mind at the time.

"I want to fuck you so bad right now. I've been so hard today, I haven't been able to get anything done. You've been a distraction since I got to work and saw you." He went back to kissing me, wrapping his arms around  my back, rubbing against me.  I was so horny, so in need of a release, that there was no way I could focus on anything at all except Marcus. I pulled back, panting, staring at Marcus. His eyes were filled with lust and need, looking right at me. God, I wanted him.

"I've never done this before, but I can't get a damn thing done until I get some release. I want you. What do you think about getting fucked on my desk?"

Author Bio:
Always daydreaming and making up stories in her head, Bella didn’t write her first novel until 2017.  Bella has a Computer Science degree, but that doesn’t hold a candle to her true love of reading. She has a cat, a corgi, hates doing cleaning, and loves playing video games.  Bella loves sexy men and a happily ever after romance. Happy reading!


Brought to you by:  GAY BOOK PROMOS