Book Blitz & Excerpt: Morte + Giveaway

morte BANNER

RELEASE BLITZ

Book Title: Morte (Vendetta Book 5)

Author: Leigh Kenzie

Publisher: Self-Published

Cover Artist: Temptation Creations

Release Date: March 18, 2021

Genre: Dark M/M 

Trope/s: Dark M/M Mafia, enemies to lovers

Themes: Forced Submission, Kink, Non-con

Heat Rating:  5 flames     

Length: approx 49 000 words

It is book 5 in the Vendetta series and it is best to have read the previous four books to follow the story.

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Buy Links – Available in Kindle Unlimited

Universal link  |  Amazon US  |   Amazon UK 

 

morte

Family is more than blood

Allesandro
I won’t kneel to a traitor. I won’t let my enemies rip my Family apart. If they think they can take my power away, I’ll bring death right to their door.

Emilio
Memories seep into me, taunting me, choking me. I feel like I’m crumbling and have no idea how to make it out. Can I keep myself together or will death stalk me too?

What happens when vengeance isn’t enough?

Trigger warnings: Contains graphic violence, extreme sexual situations, homophobic scenes, and other material that may be distressing. It is intended for a mature audience of 18+ Please see inside for more warnings.

This is a continuous series. The first four books must be read prior to this one. Ends on a cliffhanger.

Warnings: Please be advised this book contains graphic violence, torture, and murder. It also includes non-con, psychological torture, and various kinks. PTSD and other mental health issues are depicted in this book. The book also includes significant homophobic scenes. While there is no onpage abuse of minors, it is discussed. Please be advised some of those scenes and resulting actions may be upsetting. Some readers may find this material triggering. It is intended for a mature audience 18 years of age and up.  

 

Excerpt

(Emilio POV)

“What do you mean you lost them?” I snarl at the soldier in front of me. Ignacio’s steady presence is behind me, most likely he’s here trying to calm my murderous rage. Fuck, it’s a good thing I don’t have a weapon on me, or this sniveling coward would already be on the ground staining the beautiful floor with his blood. Probably why I’m not allowed weapons in the house.

“They just…disappeared,” the soldier whispers, cowering and trying to shuffle backward. That’s not going to happen.

“Well, this looks cozy. Where’s Il Padrone?” Antonio walks into the library, coming up to me and bumping his shoulder against mine. I blink, distracted, letting the fury ebb away.

“He’s visiting with his uncle in his office,” I murmur, splitting my attention between Antonio and the soldier in front of me.

“Well, that’s not fun. It’s been too long since we’ve had fun.”

I raise my eyebrows when Antonio moves in front of me and cups my face in his hands. He leans in and covers my mouth with his, running his fingers up to my hair. My breath hitches as his full lips mold to mine, and I can’t resist wrapping my arms around him. We’ve never kissed before, but all the teasing we’ve done since the day we made our truce in his room comes rushing back when he groans. I take advantage and push my tongue into his mouth, coaxing more of those delicious sounds from him. My hands can’t decide where to touch him, all I know is I’m burning for his touch. He pulls back for air, and I lean forward, nipping at his neck, enjoying the way he shudders against me. I’m so distracted I don’t hear the footsteps heading toward us. The moment a hand clamps down on my shoulder, I jump. Fuck. This can’t be good.

I’m roughly yanked around and meet the eyes that I always seem to lose myself in, every, single, time. Even now, when their vivid blue has darkened in rage, I can’t help but think they’re the only thing that tethers me in this life. He brings me comfort no matter what I see reflected back at me. My breath hitches, and I relax immediately, not fighting the way he pulls me to him. The kiss he gives me is nothing short of pure domination and I give myself over to it. He grabs my throat in his hand and squeezes. I bring my arms up and clutch his biceps, encouraging him to take everything he wants from me. It’s over all too soon when he releases me and his lips leave mine. The violent blue has calmed, it’s softened, and I can’t help the feeling of awe that sweeps through me. That’s mine. Only I bring that out.His forehead rests against mine and only our heavy breathing can be heard for a few beats of time.

“Padrone.” I know what he hears in my voice. We don’t put words to it, but neither of us can ignore that it’s there.

“Thank fuck. I thought for a moment he was going to kill the only lead we had on Sebastian and Christopher,” Antonio states.

 

 

About the Author 

Leigh is a dark M/M romance author from Texas with two needy terrors of terriers and a chaotic family. She considers coffee a major food group and her family fears broken coffeemakers. She writes in her spare time, forced to the keyboard by characters entirely too vocal in her opinion and often falls victim to plot monkeys. In between creating mayhem with her characters and friends, her hope is to transport readers to fictional places and provide darkness with a twist.

Author Links

 Amazon page  |   Facebook Group  |  Facebook Page

Newsletter Sign-Up  |  BookBub  |   Goodreads 

 

Giveaway 

Enter the Rafflecopter Giveaway for a chance to win a $5 Amazon gift card or one of two ebook copies Direct to Kindle from Leigh’s backlist (minus anthologies)

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Book Blitz & Excerpt: Years of Silence

years of silence

BOOK BLAST

Book Title: Years of Silence

Author: J.K. Jones 

Publisher: Self-published 

Release Date: December 30, 2020

Genre/s:  Dark M/M Romance, Magical realism

Tropes: Friends to lovers

Themes: Russian Mafia, floral horror, body horror romance, interracial romance, cultural diaspora 

Heat Rating:  4 flames 

Length:  91 872 words

It is a standalone book. 

Add on Goodreads

 

Buy Links 

Amazon US  |   Amazon UK 

 

Years of silence

Three friends. Two lies. One truth.

 

Blurb 

Three friends. Two lies. One truth.

Silence can be deafening. Billionaire Tycoon Zander Wright is no stranger to loneliness.

However, what happens when his friend-turned-enemy comes back?  

Knowing Vadim is like dancing the space between heaven and hell. The ocean is an inch between ecstasy and misery. Like all things long since forgotten, young love always remains the most crippling of pain.

Zander Wright is aware of this. He’s felt the fatal blow of being love-struck—bludgeoned violently over the head with the taste and feel of utopia in his arms and in his bed.

Vadim Oblonsky will always be the one thing he wants, but can never have.

Just like Petyr Yahontov will always be the one thing standing in his way. A dangerous man, with a sweet dimpled grin that has connections to the Russian mafia. Petyr wasn’t supposed to take it this far. Now, someone in his inner circle wants him dead. Zander didn’t start this. He didn’t want any part of it.

But he will be damned if he doesn’t finish it.

 

Warning from the author – Years of Silence is a dark MM Romance. This book will take you on a journey of self-discovery and disillusionment, a psychological thriller with so many twists and turns it will make your head spin. Enemies to lovers, floral horror, friends to lovers, hurt comfort, first time mm romance, gay betrayal romance, mental instability and so much more. Read an outstanding piece of literature of three friends and how one truth destroys all of them.

 

Excerpt 

From Chapter 1

Zander recalls these images not to relive them.

But to dance the space between heaven and hell. The ocean is an inch between ecstasy and misery. Like all things long since forgotten, young love always remains the most crippling of pain.

Zander Wright is aware of this.

He’s felt the fatal blow of being love-struck—bludgeoned violently over the head with the taste and feel of utopia in his arms and his bed.

The grotesque and sublime slam into him all at once, he tries to push through, he tries forcing it down, but still, it bubbles up. For once he doesn’t release it, he holds onto it, until it solidifies in his soul.

He knows he’ll never let go. Not now and not ever. Not even if it kills him.

And it surely will kill him, one of these days.

Zander raps his fingers on the table, impatiently going over the extensive legal jargon. The leather feels plush and comfortable as he leans back into his chair. The office is spacious and almost too large for one person alone, but Carlisle has insisted.

There’s a large bookshelf in the far corner, hefty enough to fill a library with nearly dozens upon, dozens of cases. Zander read them all.

Not by choice of course, but by necessity. He lives and breathes his work.

Case files lay stacked on his desk, untouched because of the sheer amount of work he still needs to get through.

“Is this all of it?”

The intern nearly jumps, his small lithe frame looking even smaller in his black slacks and white crisp dress shirt. He’s native American, with beautiful tan skin and dark piercing eyes, rimmed with glasses “Yes Mr. Wright.”

Zander looks back at the file, his eyes greedily taking in every single word. The whole case was fucked up. Even as he read more about the people involved, he felt his stomach coil in disgust. Sometimes he wonders why he became a defense attorney in the first place.

You know why.

“Sick fuck,” He mutters under his breath, before tossing the file on the table.

The case is straightforward: billionaire tycoon caught raping an underage girl and somehow thought throwing money at the problem would make it all go away. However, more women started coming out, accusing the defendant of being a rapist.

“A friend of my father’s you said?”

“Yes, Mr. Wright.”

Even after all the evidence proved that the man was guilty, he still had the fucking gull to plead “not guilty”. It was hard to argue against his DNA found in a rape test. Zander knew he had to take this case on, it was expected of him.

His face hardens.

“These are the police reports. I’ve sealed them to make sure nobody has access to them.” Zander says, placing them in a filing cabinet near his desk, and then Zander hands another file over to him. “Seth, take the case report back to Tanya and tell her that I want Mr. Dmitriev in my office Thursday morning at nine am sharp.”

“Yes, Mr. Wright,” Seth says, snatching the file away and nearly sprinting out of the room.

Zander takes a deep breath, loosening his silk fitted Armani jacket.

If this were a normal day, he would have yelled at Seth for not bringing these files in sooner. His father wanted this situation dealt with as quickly and discreetly as possible.

However, today was unlike any other day. His fingers twitch with anticipation as he wills himself to calm down.

Zander moves from his chair, eager to get the blood pumping and not to dwell on the reason why it feels like his heart wants to burst from his chest.

 

About the Author  

Heaven and hell, demons and angels. J.K Jones has always had an affinity for otherworldly things. From her debut novel, it’s easy to see she loves all things crawling in the shadows. As it so happens, J.K Jones is the author of a gritty, fun, action-packed, soul-rending novel. Her characters are so dark and twisted they defy the dimensions of this world. She does not believe in HEA, she does believe in writing a suitable ending for her characters. Never will you read any of her works where the characters ride off into the sunset together. Not going to happen. There is nothing J.K. Jones loves more than a tragic ending. She is an avid reader, poet, and LGBTQ activist. She is a University graduate with a BA in Sociology, also has a TESOL certificate for teaching English as a Second Language.

Author Links

 

 

 

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Spotlight, Excerpt & Guest Post: Through Rain and Missing Mantaurs + Giveaway

BANNER1 - Through Rain and Missing Mantaurs

Through Rain and Missing Mantaurs - Jeanne Marcella
Jeanne Marcella has a new MM/MMF dark fantasy out: “Through Rain and Missing Mantaurs.” And there’s a giveaway!

Her past is postage due and centaurs are ready to collect.

Through Rain and Missing Mantaurs is a dark fantasy most daring and eccentric. A tale not for the faint of heart. Pony is a bipedal half-breed centaur with no desire to waste tears on a past she can’t remember. She’s busy enough with her mail routes and package deliveries, and of course, floundering through hot-cold love affairs with the high class courtesans Mardyth and Lullaby.

The mundane drudgery of her life shatters when Konstantine Bywater takes over as Lightfoot Delivery’s new boss. He asks questions she can’t possibly answer, and stirs up a tragic past better left dead and buried.

But running away is no longer an option. Not when Kon and his minions accuse Mardyth of an unspeakable crime. With her lover’s life at stake, Pony won’t stop until she uncovers not only the truth of Mardyth’s innocence, but the truth of the past as well.

Amazon US | Amazon UK | Amazon CAN | iBooks | Barnes & Noble | Kobo | Angus Robertson | Indigo | Universal Buy Link | Goodreads | Liminal Fiction


Giveaway

Jeanne is giving away a $20 Amazon gift card with this tour:

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Direct Link: http://www.rafflecopter.com/rafl/display/b60e8d47167/?


Excerpt

Through Rain and Missing Mantaurs meme

Chapter 1

Saddle-sweating, horse-humping, gods-cursed bastards! The rumors were true. Shit! Bad luck must be in love with me or something. Maybe it could give Mardyth lessons.

Arms pumping high and heart hammering in her parched throat, Pony pushed to reach her top speed. The rumble of centaur hooves behind her vibrated both earth and air. She absorbed those rumbling shock waves into her svelte, bipedal runner’s body. And knew her two human legs—versus their four equine ones—would not be enough.

Still, she would try.

The sweltering heat weighed heavy. Her ratty brown and tan courier’s tunic clung like a starving tick. Rocks and pebbles further split the threadbare soles of her worn-out boots as she pounded down the rutted road. She grimaced at the sweaty slap of calloused arches sliding around in rotted footwear that could fall apart any day now.

Pony squinted at the onslaught of bright blue sky. Her brain cooked in its own juices as the summer sun withered the forest corridor. Her brown hair slipped from its limp topknot; stray strands plastered her sunburned cheeks. It was almost too hot to breathe. Too dry to live. And the damn fools giving chase wanted to die of heatstroke right alongside her.

As it always did in situations like these, Callum’s unfavorable input surfaced to harass her. Stupid, gods-damned centaurs—worthless scraps of horsemeat to toss to the dogs. Her former guardian’s mantra, though crude and offensive, might hold slivers of truth. It was most certainly stupid to be running full-out in this blistering heat. At any other time, she might’ve been curious about this, her first ever centaur encounter.

Just to say she’d finally met one.

Give a lecture about overexertion in extreme weather.

Maybe engage in some harmless flirting.

To finally decide, once and for all, that Callum was right about them.

Or wrong.

But not when this chase proved that they were hunting for courier blood.

Any courier’s blood.

Keep running. Don’t look back.

She looked back.

Six tall shapes, the merging of man and equine. Hooves kicking up clouds of rising dust. The whip of long, flashing manes. The distance between them shrank with each passing second.

Her mail satchel, empty except for the meager bait of Escape Plan Number Two, bounced against her spine. Slung across her chest and anchored into the strap of her mailbag, a dozen small throwing blades awaited use. The large knife hanging at her hip, anchored at her thigh, allowed slight consolation.

Escape Plan Number One took the form of the few coins she couldn’t spare; the bits of metal jingled in her trouser pocket, muffled by a scrap of cloth.

Your job is to run, but hold strength in reserve. Callum’s voice echoed in the back of her mind. If cornered, kill without hesitation or remorse.

Okay. Good advice. She was good at running. That was all she ever did.

Pony crushed dry cracked lips between her teeth. Escape Plan Number One never failed. But would this tactic work on centaurs?

Wait. She had to revise that. Would Escape Plan Number One work on murderous, marauding centaurs who’d probably noticed she was a half-breed suffering through the last few days of her estrus?

If Callum were alive, he would’ve wagered against her.

Might as well give the plan a go, Horsemeat.

She sensed the distance closing between them. Imagined their hot breath blowing down the back of her neck. Their tall, bizarre forms hovering over her. Their hands tearing at her tunic to confirm the hidden tail braided and wrapped around her waist like a belt…

Pony shook off the terror. No time to panic.

Dipping into her trouser pocket, she pulled out several bronze skull coins and flung them over her shoulder. It was back to rummaging through garbage cans when she got home. The currency thudded along the highway and pinged off rocks. On her old southern routes, tossing money always worked with the undesirables skulking around looking for a mark.

The thundering sound of hooves sped up and deepened. Pony ground her teeth. All right, so they weren’t after money. Not typical highwaymen then. Why couldn’t they be greedy bastards like everyone else?

Escape Plan Number Two.

Reaching into the mailbag, Pony pulled out the four carrots she’d pilfered from the company stables. She glanced at the vegetables, shrugged, and took a bite out of one. Then she proceeded to fling the orange darlings over her shoulder in two-second intervals.

High-pitched squeals of disgust and indignation answered.

Oh well. It’d been worth the try. Maybe they weren’t all animal after all. Or maybe centaurs were fussy eaters. Maybe she should’ve grabbed a salt brick instead. Then she could’ve brained them with it.

Escape Plan Number Three then.

The road continued to bend, the thick forest jutting into her direct line of sight. She darted for the ferns and scrub brush. Towering pines blotted out some of the sun’s glare—for a few seconds she was running blind.

Two centaurs armed with longbows jumped out in front of her. The younger one took aim at her heart.

Horseshit! She was speedy, but not quick enough to outrun a flying projectile. Gulping, she dropped into a slide, feet first. Gravel tore open her calloused palms and ripped holes into the back of her trousers.

Great. Bleeding in several places, and now she had clothes to repair. “Arggh!” She slammed slick fists to the ground. “What’s wrong with you swag-bellied tail-waggers? You’d shoot one of your own?

BANNER2 - Through Rain and Missing Mantaurs

Author Guest Post:

The Journey to Finding Just the Right Planner by Jeanne Marcella

At the start of 2020 I had great plans. Everyone did. In January, I’d started off running. My mind was full of words and worlds and fun characters that were just flying from my fingertips to the keyboard. I was proceeding along very well with one of my lighter works—an urban fantasy set in the year 1900. For the first time in YEARS, I thought I was finally getting it together and picking up the pace to get books out.

Then we all know what happened.

It’s taken me nearly the entire year, but now that I’ve picked myself up mentally, I’m turning back to consider what I can get done in 2021. And see if somehow, I can make up for lost time.

Now, I know that’s nearly impossible, so I won’t be completely stressing myself out. I’m going to at least try to see how much focus I can regain.

Recently, I found that some writer friends are big supporters of the planner systems. It sounded like a marvelous thing to try, so I jumped right in. And I easily got hooked by all the colorful stickers. I fell headlong into a new obsession with Washi tapes!

Calming down and composing myself from all the sparkly stuff (I’m like a damned crow.) I opted to try one of the more popular calendar planner brands. I picked a short, three month option where you write in your own calendar dates.

I tried several times over those three months to make it work, but it didn’t. There was too much distraction. Too many detailed pages that needed three ribbon dividers attached to keep your place in each section. Too many questions listed that weren’t relevant to my writing. Questions that often made me just sit there and try to fill out, and couldn’t. Meaning lots of time wasted.

Another planner I tried was specifically geared toward writers. While it worked somewhat, I still felt too scattered with all the side options and questions.
What annoyed me about the writer’s planner was the weekly calendar work space section was too narrow and restrictive to be of much use to me.

So I went back on the hunt to uncover what else was available. I found a nice, thin paperback that was a five year calendar planner off of Amazon. It was one of those print on demand ones. While I wouldn’t mind having a few more blank pages for notes, this one was nearly The Three Bears perfect. All it is, is calendar pages for each year, for five years. There’s a column for notes in each month.

It seems this is all I need for now—just a broad overall view of information and a bit of space for self-tracking my progress. Maybe once I get the hang of these planners, I can start expanding back into more detailed options.

A big lesson re-learned here is what works for someone else doesn’t necessarily work for you. That’s why there are so many wonderful planners out there. There’s something suitable for everyone.

Crossing my fingers now that the plans I had in 2020 will cascade down into 2021 without any more world-altering events. I do so look forward to diving back into both my dark, and light fantasy worlds and adding even more of a twist to them. So getting set and getting ready, here’s to a new year!

MEME4 - Through Rain and Missing Mantaurs

Author Bio

Jeanne Marcella writes dramatic, and often character driven fantasy fiction not for the faint of heart. Quests, adventure, danger, and the grit of living are foremost, but relationships and mild romance might also share the pages.

Granted unlimited access to books at a very early age via the library, she quickly acquired a fondness for creating her own stories through word and drawing. She was born and raised in the San Francisco Bay Area.

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