Book Blitz & Excerpt: Matched By My Rival + Giveaway

Matched By My Rival by DJ Jamison banner

RELEASE BLITZ

Book Title: Matched By My Rival

Author: DJ Jamison

Publisher: DJ Jamison

Cover Artist: Cate Ashwood

Release Date: July 8, 2021

Genre: Contemporary M/M Romance

Tropes: Enemies to lovers, college jocks, online love match, secret/forbidden love

Themes: Building a new dream, following your heart, forgiveness

Heat Rating:  4 flames

Length: 75 000 words

It is part of a series (Thrust Into Love) but can be read as a stand alone.

Goodreads

 

Buy Links – Available in Kindle Unlimited

Universal Link  |  Amazon US  |  Amazon UK  

 

matched by my rival

Simon Prentiss: Ex-football star, bitter rival, and…falling for the enemy?

 

Blurb
I hate my teammate, Parker Reed.
I hate that he makes me work so hard for my position on the field. 
Hate how he always smiles. How easily he shows me up when I’m injured.

Most of all, I hate that he made me lose my temper.

Next thing I know, football is gone.
My scholarship is gone.
I’m nearly gone, too.

With help, I manage to stay in school for my final semester.
At least without football, I can explore a new side to myself.
See where my attraction to guys takes me without fear of it affecting my future. 

I didn’t see it coming. The cosmic joke.
The sweet, patient guy on the hookup app?
The one who makes me burn with the desire to have him?

Yeah, it’s Parker.

Our chemistry is off the charts, no matter how much I resent him.
Holding a grudge against him is impossible.
But when he wants to walk away from everything I lost, can I accept it?

If I don’t, I’ll lose him too–and that can’t happen.
Because I don’t hate Parker Reed.
I think I love him.

Matched By My Rival is an enemies-to-lovers, jock rivals romance. It’s Book 2 of the Thrust Into Love series but can be read as a standalone. 

 

Excerpt 

The following excerpt is from Simon’s POV, when he realizes that his app hookup is actually his rival, Parker Reed.

This couldn’t be happening. Parker Reed? Parker Reed was my Thrust match? No, I refused to believe it. 

“There must be some mistake,” I growled.

He didn’t back down. Parker wasn’t the type. But for once, his obnoxious grin was absent. 

“No mistake. A surprise, for sure.”

I turned to Rhett, who was watching us with the fascination of a driver gawking at an accident scene. “I’ll close up if you let me take care of this.”

“Yeah, sure. Bar’s done serving. Knock yourself out, just…clean up the blood before you leave.” He cut his eyes toward Parker. “Whoever you are, I wish you the best.”

He exited the bar through a little section of counter that raised up, creating a gap. I held it open for Parker, jerking my chin toward the back room. “Let’s go.”

Parker chuckled nervously as he passed through the bar entrance, brushing against my chest. I could feel his body warmth, smell his aftershave, an earthy natural scent that suited him. 

Heart pounding, I led him into the back room. Surrounded by boxes of liquor and kegs of beer, I whirled on him. “Did you know?”

“Wh-what?”

Parker appeared off-balance. Usually he was a smooth fucker. 

“Were you playing me?” I demanded, crowding him against a stack of boxes. We were close to the same size, but I didn’t let it stop me from putting every ounce of threat I could into my voice.

“No!” The word burst from him, sounding incredulous. “How would I know it was you? We never shared personal stuff.”

“So it’s a coincidence?” I said skeptically.

“Yes. It’s a really awkward coincidence that the guy I—” His voice cracked, and he looked away. “I didn’t know.”

“Look me in the eye when you say it.”

Parker reluctantly looked at me, frustration blazing. “You’re such an asshole sometimes, Prentiss.”

A shocked laugh burst out. “Really?”

“Yeah, I know I screwed up, okay? I never should have gone to that party with Kristin. And obviously we wouldn’t be here if you knew it was me on that app. But you don’t have to interrogate me like a fucking criminal.”

A whole series of memories hit me. All those flirty chats. Those sexts that Parker had so patiently walked me through. I’d thought he was the nicest guy on the planet. 

“Fuck me,” I muttered, looking away. 

“Please stop saying that,” Parker said in a strangled voice.

I  jerked my eyes back to his face in time to see a look of such lust it shot heat through my entire body. “What?”

“Fucking you is all I’ve thought about for weeks.” He laughed weakly. “Joke’s on me, huh?”

I couldn’t stop my eyes from making a slow perusal of his body. It was dark, but I could make out the shape of him. I knew how fit he was. Knew because we had practically the same body, the way we’d pushed ourselves in training. He was of a slightly leaner build than me, more flexible. I knew his body intimately too. A series of pics from his profile, and even more illicit ones he’d sent me directly, had filled in any blanks I might have had.

His chest rose and fell faster. When I raised my gaze to his face, he dragged the tip of his tongue over his dry lips.

And I lost it.

There was no thought, no reasoning. I’d spent weeks dipping my toe in the water, testing, evaluating. But now I was in the deep end. 

I was ready to swim. Or maybe I’d drown. But if I did, I was taking us both down.

I crushed my mouth to his, shoving him harder into the boxes, and he grasped at my waist for balance, gripping hard enough to hurt. The pain only fueled my need. I grabbed his hair, short on the sides but longer on top, and yanked his head back to better devour his mouth. 

Weeks of buildup, of flirting with my bisexuality and tempting myself to no end, exploded in a fiery inferno of need.

I didn’t care if it was Parker. I didn’t care that he was a man I’d blamed and detested. In some ways, it made it easier.

This wasn’t the love connection I thought it might be. It was unbridled lust, and I was just getting started.

 

About the Author

 

DJ Jamison writes romances about everyday life and extraordinary love featuring a variety of queer characters, from gay to bisexual to asexual. DJ grew up in the Midwest in a working-class family, and those influences can be found in her writing through characters coping with real-life problems: money troubles, workplace drama, family conflicts and, of course, falling in love. DJ spent more than a decade in the newspaper industry before chasing her first dream to write fiction. She spent a lifetime reading before that and continues to avidly devour her fellow authors’ books each night. She lives in Kansas with her husband, two sons, one snake, and a sadistic cat named Birdie.

 

Social Media Links

Blog/Website  |  Facebook  |  Facebook Group  |   Twitter

Instagram  |   Newsletter Sign-up  |   KoFi for bonus content  |  BookBub

 

 

Giveaway 

Enter the Rafflecopter Giveaway for a chance to win a

$10 Amazon US gift card or an ebook copy of Swiped By My Dad’s Best Friend

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Book Blitz & Excerpt: Flowers Under My Pillow + Giveaway

Flowers Under My Pillow by Nell Iris

RELEASE BLITZ

Book Title: Flowers Under My Pillow

Author: Nell Iris

Publisher: JMS Books

Cover Artist: Written Ink Designs

Release Date: June 26, 2021

Genre: Contemporary M/M Romance

Trope: Soul mates

Themes: Older characters (40+), instant connection, meet cute 

Heat Rating: 3 flames

Length:  17 477 words

It is a standalone story

Goodreads

 

Buy Links 

JMS Books  |  Universal Link 

Amazon US  |  Amazon UK

 

flowers under my pillow

Smiling brown eyes. A dark beard. Dandelions. Sunny, happy dandelions.

Blurb

Smiling brown eyes. A dark beard. Dandelions. Sunny, happy dandelions.

For thirty years, Frode’s had the same dream. Every Midsummer’s Eve since he was a kid accompanying his sister to pick flowers to put under his pillow, he’s dreamed of the same man. A dream he never shares with anyone, that makes him wish for impossible things…like true love.

“It’s you.”

Then one Midsummer’s Eve, the man of Frode’s dreams stands before him in the flesh. Both men recognize each other despite never having met in real life. Both men are instantly drawn to each other and want to know more.

“Who are you, Viljar? Are you even real?”

Their questions are many but do the whys and the hows matter? Or should they allow the Midsummer magic that brought them together to lead the way into each other’s arms? Into each other’s hearts?

Traditional Swedish folklore tells you that if you pick seven kinds of flowers in silence and put them under your pillow on Midsummer’s Eve, you’ll dream of the man you’ll marry.


Excerpt

When I look around to take in my surroundings, I realize my feet have carried me to the cottage without me noticing, and something catches my attention on the lawn on the other side of the fence.

A closer look reveals a tripod with a big, professional-looking camera attached on top. And underneath it, a man lies on his back, surrounded by a starry sky of tiny white flowers growing low in the grass. I don’t want to disturb him and I’m just about to sneak away when he turns his head toward me. 

Warm brown eyes, with crow’s feet radiating out from the corners, meet mine. But it’s his full beard, scattered with dandelions, that makes my heart tumble over itself in my chest. 

Smiling eyes. A full beard. Dandelions. 

Dandelions

My hand flies to my chest as I forget how to breathe. 

It’s him.

****

The man’s eyes widen, then he springs to his feet, banging his knee into the tripod almost making it topple over, but his arm shoots out, his big hand landing on the camera, stopping it from crashing down onto the grass.

“It’s you,” he says, his voice a deep rumble emanating from the pit of his stomach, vibrating its way to me, settling in my core.

It’s you. 

What does he mean? Does he recognize me, too? 

“It’s you,” he says again as he takes a few hesitant steps in my direction. His eyes never leave my face. 

“It’s you,” I echo, brows furrowed. 

The improbability of it all, of my recurring dream materializing and standing in front of me, makes me take a step backward. He leaps forward, dislodging a couple of the dandelions from his beard by the sudden movement, and I watch them sail to the ground. 

When I look up at him again, it’s as though I’m zooming out of my body and look at the two of us from a distance. Two men, separated by a white picket fence, staring at each other as though they’ve seen a ghost, as though they both think they must be hallucinating. His features are so familiar; I know every line radiating from the corner of his eyes, every strand of his beard. I know all the nuances of brown in his dark eyes; as though someone swirled chocolate into a deep well of coffee and then sprinkled some gold into the mix to make it irresistible. I know the sensitive setting of his mouth. I know the intense gaze.

It makes me dizzy, and I stumble but manage to keep myself upright. I take another wobbly step backward.

“Don’t go,” he says. “Please.” He stops but holds out his hand as though he wants to touch me to make sure I’m real. 

The feeling is mutual. How is this even possible? How can the man I’ve dreamed about every Midsummer these last thirty years be right here a few steps from me? As though I’ve dreamed him into existence. 

I drag my gaze away from his face and take in the rest of him. He’s tall and broad-shouldered, his biceps are straining the short sleeves of his button-down shirt. He’s got a rounded belly and meaty thighs filling out his faded jeans, and his big wide feet are bare in the grass. 

Heat stirs between my hips. God, he’s not only the literal man of my dreams, but he’s hot as sin, too. When I force myself to look away from his body, our gazes meet. 

“You recognize me, too,” he says, eyes pleading. “I can tell from your reaction.”

I dip my chin once. “I do.”

My heart flutters in my chest like the wings of a colibri. Another dandelion falls from his beard and my gaze follows it down as it lands softly on the ground. 

My mind spins with questions and it’s making me dizzy again. How can the man from my dreams stand before me in the flesh? A living, breathing human being? A living breathing human being who recognizes me too?  

When our eyes meet again, I read the same confusion in him. 


About the Author 

Nell Iris is a romantic at heart who believes everyone deserves a happy ending. She’s a bona fide bookworm (learned to read long before she started school), wouldn’t dream of going anywhere without something to read (not even the ladies room), loves music (and singing along at the top of her voice but she’s no Celine Dion), and is a real Star Trek nerd (Make it so). She loves words, bullet journals, poetry, wine, coffee-flavored kisses, and fika (a Swedish cultural thing involving coffee and pastry!)

Nell believes passionately in equality for all regardless of race, gender or sexuality, and wants to make the world a better, less hateful, place.

Nell is a bisexual Swedish woman married to the love of her life, a proud mama of a grown daughter, and is approaching 50 faster than she’d like. She lives in the south of Sweden where she spends her days thinking up stories about people falling in love. After dreaming about being a writer for most of her life, she finally was in a place where she could pursue her dream and released her first book in 2017.

Nell Iris writes gay romance, prefers sweet over angsty, short over long, and quirky characters over alpha males. 

 

Author Links

Blog/Website  |  Facebook Author Page  |  Facebook Profile

Twitter  |   Instagram   |  Goodreads

Pinterest  |  BookBub  |  Newsletter

 


Giveaway

Enter the  giveaway for a chance to win 1 of 3 ebook copies from Nell’s backlist

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Book Blitz & Excerpt: Full Speed Ahead + Giveaway

full speed ahead

RELEASE BLITZ

Book Title:  Full Speed Ahead (Food Truck Warriors #4)

Author: Beth Bolden

Publisher: Beth Bolden Books

Cover Artist: AngstyG Book Cover and Media Design

Release Date: June 3, 2021

Genre: Contemporary gay romance

Trope/s:  Bodyguard, found family

Theme: Hurt/comfort 

Heat Rating: 4 flames

Length: 84 000 words

It is book 4 in the series.

The author recommends that readers read at least one of the other books first.

Add on Goodreads

 

Buy Links – Available on Kindle Unlimited

Universal Link  |  Amazon US  |   Amazon UK 

 

full speed ahead insta

Lennox’s favorite escape is the Food Truck Warriors . . .until it needs his protection.

Blurb

Ash isn’t running from his past—he’s already left it way behind. He’s built a business from scratch, using all the lessons that his father taught him, and every day at his food truck is a challenge he was born to tackle.

But when a stalker appears, hinting that he knows the secrets Ash has tried so hard to bury, he needs more help than his food truck friends can provide. He needs a professional.

Lennox is a mystery. He’s been coming around the Food Truck Warriors for months now, and nobody knows if that’s even his real name. But Ash knows he’s fascinated by the man, and the feeling seems to be mutual.

When the threat to Ash becomes a little too real, Lennox intervenes, and finally, the electricity between them transforms into something very much like love. But now their safety—and their hearts—are on the line.


Excerpt 

After climbing into the truck, Ash set his coffee on the counter and checked his watch. His delivery should be here any moment, if they were on time, which . . . Ash had learned practically from the cradle what to do with suppliers who wouldn’t keep to their timelines or couldn’t be relied upon.

They really didn’t want to be late today.

Ash wasn’t in the mood for it.

He glanced out the front window, and froze.

There was a piece of paper taped to it—something that had definitely not been there when he’d closed up last night.

Ash stared at the words, printed in damning black and white.

It was an interview that his father had done—likely one of hundreds, if not thousands, he’d done over the course of his illustrious career. But in this one, he had mentioned his son, Oliver. Who Stephan Atkinson had said with some humor, liked to be called Ash.

A silly affectation, his father told the interviewer, that he would grow out of.

Ash had been . . . maybe thirteen or fourteen if he remembered correctly, when this article had come out, and he’d been furious. It had been one of the many things he’d been pissed at his father for.

Now someone had found it, dredged it out of the bowels of magazine hell, had photocopied it, and taped it to his window. Not facing outwards, so anyone could see it, but inwards, so only Ash could.

Fury flashed with a frightening power through him. He didn’t hesitate. He grabbed his keys, and with shaking fingers, locked up behind him. Walked around to the front of his truck, tore the paper off, leaving the edges trapped by the neatly placed tape fluttering in the early morning breeze, and forgoing his bicycle, took off for the one place that he’d told himself he would not go.

Who else could have done this? Ash thought angrily as he stormed towards his destination. It was still so early the streets were essentially empty. He’s the only one who knows.

The building that Tony had described was only a few blocks away.

It had been remodeled, with a glass-front office on the lower level, and a living space on the top. There were a separate set of stairs leading to a discreet door on a wrought iron landing.

A discreet black-lettered sign, matching the wrought iron of the stairs and contrasting with the freshly painted taupe stucco of the building itself, indicated that this was the offices of Protectorate.

It might be early, but Ash could see a figure already in the office below.

Tony had mentioned offhandedly that Lennox was a workaholic, always in the office, so it was not a huge stretch to imagine that it was him, up early, and already working.

Ash walked over to the door, and pulled it, fully expecting it to be locked, but to his surprise it opened easily.

Even though he must have been the one to unlock it, Lennox looked up with shock as he walked in.

Ash imagined they probably didn’t get much foot traffic.

He stomped over to where Lennox sat at a desk, and slapped the paper down in front of him.

“What the fuck is this?” he demanded to know.

Lennox stared at the writing. He took his time answering, clearly reading through the words on the page once, and maybe even twice. Finally he looked up. “It looks like an interview that your father did, talking about his restaurants, and also his son.” He hesitated. “You.”

“Yes, thank you, I can read just as well as you can,” Ash bit off. “What I mean is why was it taped to my truck’s front window this morning?”

“Taped to your . . .”

“And not facing out, but facing in,” Ash interrupted. “So I would see it, but nobody else. Someone wants me to know they’ve figured out who my father is.”

“And you think that’s me.”

Ash gestured wildly, pacing between Lennox’s desk, and the other, currently unoccupied. “Who else could it be?”

“Do you really think I needed to do this to get your attention?” Lennox asked, his tone dry.


About the Author 

A lifelong Pacific Northwester, Beth Bolden has just recently moved to North Carolina with her supportive husband. Beth still believes in Keeping Portland Weird, and intends to be just as weird in Raleigh.

Beth has been writing practically since she learned the alphabet. Unfortunately, her first foray into novel writing, titled Big Bear with Sparkly Earrings, wasn’t a bestseller, but hope springs eternal. She’s published twenty-three novels and seven novellas.

 

Author Links

Blog/Website  |  Facebook  |  Twitter  |   BookBub

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Giveaway 

Enter the Rafflecopter Giveaway for a chance to win a $25 Amazon gift card

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