Book Blitz & Excerpt: This or That + Giveaway

this or that

RELEASE BLITZ

Book Title: This or That

Author: Hope Irving

Publisher: Self-published 

Cover Artist: Simon Franklin

Release Date: June 3, 2021

Genres: Contemporary M/M Romance; Bi Romance

Tropes: Enemies-to-lovers, gay for you, bi-awakening

Themes: Coming out, forgiveness, acceptance (self, family, friends), trust, friendship

Heat Rating: 3 – 3.5 flames

Length: 54 000 words / 200 pages

It is a standalone story. The main characters are secondary characters from another one of my books, Omega Artist (A Cocky Hero Club novel) that takes place later. Omega Artist is a contemporary M/F romance. Both can be read as standalone novels.

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Buy Links – Available in Kindle Unlimited

Amazon US  |   Amazon UK 

  

this or that

Sometimes, a kiss can knock you out faster than a blow to the head, rendering you unable to think straight.


Blurb:

Sometimes, a kiss can knock you out faster than a blow to the head, rendering you unable to think straight.

When drunken Michael Clayton stole a sloppy kiss in a Parisian club, he didn’t know that this would mean war. War, as in being taught a lesson by a shameless cowboy. War, as in being given a taste of his own medicine. War, as in being left dumbfounded and yearning for more. Blame it on the alcohol, right? Damn, Mike hated the guy for muddling his assumed straight orientation and raising unwelcome questions.

When noble Troy Hunter stole a revenge kiss from a despicable hot playboy, he didn’t know that it would be all but forgotten months later. Landing a gig on a Rio-bound cruise ship, the rising DJ is dazed when Mike strikes back with a vengeance during their second encounter, fueling his appetite for dominance. Blame it on the blazing sun, right? Damn, Troy hates the guy for pushing all of his buttons and rubbing salt in old wounds.

It shouldn’t have happened, but now all bets are off. Their feelings quickly escalate into something that they aren’t willing to label. It’s easier this way, until it isn’t… because life’s no cruise and some experiences are life-altering. Between Troy’s painful past and Mike’s unsettling present, their future together might be short-lived, unless their insane chemistry compels them to push their limits and each other. So, which is it? This or that?

 

This or That was previously part of a charity anthology entitled Anyone But You; it was originally published in early 2021. Since then, I’ve added new content, including a bonus epilogue! Same enemies-to-lovers storyline. Same hot and sweet characters. More focus on certain scenes. Discover or rediscover Mike and Troy’s story…

If you’ve read Omega Artist (A Cocky Hero Club novel), this is your chance to see how it all started for two familiar faces that you only briefly met since This or That is a standalone prequel.


Excerpt 

It’s impossible to think straight when he’s this close. As annoying as he is, I can’t let him escape my clutches.

Out of reflex, my palms land on his taut chest and shove him out of my personal space. I need oxygen, and his presence isn’t helping. Too bad he doesn’t budge, his daring eyes capturing mine. “You and your…” I stutter and, before he says something inappropriate, quickly add, “big mouth.”

A moan leaves his smart mouth. Seriously? “You know what they say…” He shrugs, an amused expression on his conceited face. “Big mouth, big

Narrowing my eyes, I can’t help but want to muzzle his smart mouth and put it to better use. He’s impossible! Who says things like that?

The fucker unsettles me yet again by shooting me a raunchy once-over, licking his sinful lips. “Stop looking at me like that,” I hiss.

What the hell does he want from me? We’re not quite touching. His pupils are so dilated that it’s clear, even in the waning sunlight. “Or what?”

Cutting off any chance of response, his commanding lips mold against mine and his arms circle my waist. I can’t move. Once again, his lips on mine feel so wrong and, at the same time, so right. The friction of his stubble on my clean-shaven skin and the dance of his frenzied tongue with my greedy one send me into overdrive.

Whimpering, I wiggle as if possessed. Going a mile a minute, my brain is at war with my body, which craves more unprecedented sensations. The sloppy Parisian kiss the cowboy stole months ago enticed a hidden desire that has no place in my well-planned life. Worse, our encounter elicited sensations that I’ve been desperate to recreate in a flurry of one-night stands, but nothing’s worked so far.

What’s left of my willpower eventually propels me to stop the mind-boggling tongue action. He needs to accept that I run the show.

The air thickens between us as we huff and puff.

His half-mast eyes are so much darker than they were a minute ago. Should I keep playing with him? “What’d you do that for?”

“You’re not gonna win at this game, cowboy,” I sneer in a rushed voice; an expression of my false bravado. “So you think.” Acutely attuned to my hungry body, one of Hunter’s legs subtly treads closer and he leans into me.

Within seconds, his tongue fills my mouth again. Shuddering under his touch, my resolve crumbles as the asshat deepens the kiss. I stiffen when it evolves from bruising to tender, although our encounter is anything but. My body temperature skyrockets, along with my libido.

Unaware of the all-consuming passion that this kiss provokes in me, he thrusts his hip against mine, banging my back into the wall. His jean-clad semi rubs, grazes, and expands against mine that’s desperate for release. I try to pace myself, but it’s a lost cause.

Overwhelmed by a myriad of toe-curling sensations, my brain shuts down and allows my ravenous body to do the talking; maybe that’s the kind of talking Hunter was referring to earlier!

Talk, my ass! No, no, no, keep my ass out of this!

With that thought in mind, my tempted body is given the green light to act.

Without warning, I close the gap between us and my knuckles trace his sculpted abs. At once, his intoxicating scent numbs my consciousness, and I act on the unthinkable the second his hands snake around my body. And just when I think the fever has reached its peak, the conniving man betrays me, ditching my waist in favor of my hair.

Why can’t you stop? Get a hold of yourself. This is your game, not his…

Then why does the simple act of his fingers running through my short hair increase the unbearable pressure building between my legs? I don’t even give a flying fuck if I come in my pants.

Damn, it’s hot in here!

His urgent mouth devours my expletives and beads of sweat run down the side of my face, but I’m too far gone to swipe them away. I’m too blissed out to care. I’m too needy to break the spell quite yet. My senses are on alert. I want to hate him. I hate to want him. So much…


Giveaway

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About the Author 

Hope Irving lives in Paris, France, with her supportive husband and creative teenage daughter. The French indie author spent a couple of years in Texas, where she earned her MBA. With many friends, relatives, and readers in the States, the US has a big place in her heart. Although French is her mother tongue, she chose to write her novels in English because it simply feels right for her characters. Hope’s suspenseful and complex love stories are modern fairytales that feature an unconventional Prince Charming and a headstrong heroine. A natural introvert, she enjoys tormenting her flawed characters with a hint of darkness and sometimes magical elements. Still, her heart melts when love conquers all. Her work has been described as “genre-defying,” “refreshingly unique,” and “an emotional rollercoaster read.”

 

Social Media Links

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BookBub  |  Goodreads

Facebook Group – Hope Irving’s Heroines

 

 

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Spotlight & Excerpt: Finally Home – Josiah + Giveaway

Finally Home - Josiah

Finally Home - Josiah - K-Lee Klein
 

Finally Home – Josiah
Finally Home, #1
by K-lee Klein
Out  December 9 2020
Cover Artist: Karrie Jax
Genres: mm romance, bi romance, contemporary, western

Josiah Nelson left the family home where his father’s bullying and his own fears made life a penance, swearing never to return. Now he has a funeral to arrange, another joyless Christmas holiday to survive, and a ranch to sell, before he can finally wipe the last dust of his childhood off his shoes and settle into his lonely big city life.

When he arrives in his hometown, Wyatt Ames is still there, still out and proud and everything Josiah secretly wanted when they were growing up. He can’t help feeling a tiny, fragile hope that this time, things might turn out differently. Especially when Wyatt seems set on teaching him that home isn’t the house you live in. It’s the place where your heart belongs.

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Excerpt

It was like a bad dream come to life. Not the kind where a monster is hiding in the closet ready to eat your face, but more like an unending loop of being stuck somewhere you didn’t want to be.

Home.

Josiah Nelson hadn’t thought of the old ranch in that way for a long time. Yet there he was, tramping up the old weathered steps to the house he grew up in and regretting every minute of it.

The high-pitched squeal of the old weathered screen door shook the silence of the chilly night air. Josiah startled and a storm of memories rushed to the forefront of his mind, some good, but mostly bad. Stepping over the broken doorframe, he slipped inside the house of his dreams and nightmares. That particular board had been broken since he was a child and should have been fixed long ago. Josiah supposed there were things he’d have to take care of before listing the property.

The musty smell hit him first—earthy and damp like a moldy pair of wet socks. He wrinkled his nose when the underlying scent of pine cleaner assaulted his sinuses next. Someone had obviously tried to scrub away the history of the place, the bad memories holding anger and dysfunction. After Josiah’s mom died, his father’s domestic skills hadn’t changed, hadn’t improved. Anything not involving horses, trucks, or beer had been half-assed at best.

Gosh, had it really been ten years since his mama had been gone? He supposed his parents were together again—if you believed in that kind of thing—though his mom was more suited to Heaven while his dad should be further south. Cancer had taken them both; different types, different years, but the same body-ravaging killer.

His mama’s death had been the hardest time of his life. The sympathies he’d been offered when she passed still burned a hole in his heart: “She’s in a better place”, “at least she’s not suffering anymore”, “she wouldn’t want you to be sad.” The empty platitudes disturbed him, made him angry. Had they expected him not to mourn his mama? To let her go and wash his hands of all she’d meant to him? Josiah hadn’t been ready to let her go, but how much of a monster would he have been to want to prolong her last few months of suffering?

Losing her had made Josiah’s world so much smaller, unhappier and darker. Saying she’d been his rock, his best friend, was cliché, but true. He’d been left with a father who was no better a stranger, and well, that was a whole different can of worms.

Even the prospect of coming home brought back deep-buried regrets and guilt that rocked him to the core on bad days. Josiah imagined most people felt those things and learned to deal with them, but he wore his like a badge of disgrace or failure or both.

He closed his eyes, concentrating as he inhaled deeply, slowly let the breath out. Unwanted emotions threatened to send him huddling in the corner like the child he’d once been, but they had to be set aside, shoved back in that overflowing box at the back of his mind. If he was going to fall apart it couldn’t be in the first five minutes of stepping into the place. His mind and heart had to be clear and open, and he had to be able to deal with things before any feelings could be allowed to run loose. Sprawling into an emotional abyss of emptiness would have to wait.

Reminding himself that it was only for a few days had become his mantra since he hauled himself into his truck for his trip home. And he really hoped that’s all it would take to sort out whatever things he needed to do, then toss the rest into the lawyer’s hands. A few days and he could leave all this behind again, go back to the sad life he’d built for himself. Sad, but sealed away from the pain of the past.

But good intentions didn’t always pan out, and Josiah’s true feelings scurried to the surface as he trailed shaky fingers over his mom’s cherished antique buffet table. He became breathless, and hot tears stung his eyes when he caught sight of the white urn, pushed to the side of the credenza like an after-thought, rather than holding a place of honor where it belonged.

Before her death, Josiah’s mama had picked out her own urn. She’d liked the pretty dragonflies pressed into the base, and the simple shape and color. Josiah’s biggest regret was buried deep in the bottom of the empty vase. Mama had wanted to be cremated, had made it perfectly clear when she brought her purchase home. Josiah’s father had not been impressed and threw the thing against the wall in a drunken rage.

“It’s okay, baby. Sprinkle some of my old ashes by the pond, Josi. Then I’ll always be here to watch over you. I’ll always be close.”

He missed her so much, not a day went by when he didn’t think about what he’d lost that sorrowful day. And even worse, he’d failed her last request.
Because the awful fact was that she was buried in a dark box in the wet ground, rather than being scattered around the pond and spending the rest of eternity in that stupid urn. Josiah’s father had made the final decision, and the stubborn old bastard had refused to accept the last wishes of his wife of twenty-eight years.

Instead, he’d put Josiah’s mama in the cheapest casket he could find, and buried her in the local cemetery—all because he didn’t believe in cremation. Josiah had been afforded no say in the matter and his father had thrown-out his wife’s last request like yesterday’s news. Knowing the man better than he’d ever wanted, his decision shouldn’t have been a shock to Josiah.

Fortunately, his mama’s best friend, Mrs. Aames, had known of her request and brought an identical urn over after the funeral.

“She wouldn’t have blamed you, Josiah. Your mama knew that your father wanted a casket, so she told me exactly what she wanted, and I picked it up before she passed. And if that man gives you any grief about it being here, you tell him to come see me.”

Now, ten years later, the rage remained, fueled by the things he’d never said to his dad. And Josiah would be damned if he’d fulfill any wish his old man might have—Christmas or not.

 


Author Bio

K-Lee Klein
K-lee Klein grew up in the beautiful mountains of British Columbia and now lives only two hours away in Calgary, Alberta. Her life is blessed by three now-grown (but still spoiled) kids and a new, adorable grandson who calls her Gwaa Gwaa. She has a patient husband of over thirty years and spends her days being bossed around by a kitten named Poe, a senior feline called, Miss Chili, and a canine, Princess Chewie.

K-lee’s writing muse is terribly temperamental so to keep him close by and in-check, she had him inked on her left calf. Yet she still writes on his schedule and inspiration, and quite honestly, he can be a bit of a drama queen. K-lee writes mostly contemporary but has forayed into paranormal and urban fantasy, and her favorite tropes to write and read are hurt-comfort, friends to lovers, opposites attract, and relationships with children. Her biggest accomplishment as an author was overcoming all the hurdles to transition from publisher releases to her first self-published book.

Although K-lee considers herself to be an extroverted introvert and revels in her solitude, she very much enjoys traveling to conferences to meet up with friends old and new. She’s grateful for all the people in her life who accept her as she is and support her through the ups and downs as a mom, wife, friend, and joyfully obsessed writer.

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Giveaway

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