Spotlight & Giveaway: Deep as the Ocean, by C.J. Baty

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Deep As the Ocean

The Pinkerton Man Series Book 4

by C.J. Baty

Genre: Historical Mystery LGBTQ Romance

 

What started as a vacation for Stiles Long, Michael O’Leary, and Lizzie Ferguson, soon turns to murder?

Aboard the ocean liner, the Mauretania, every luxury is at their fingertips. Sumptuous food, comfortable staterooms, dancing, card games, and anything else your first class heart can expire too. What the trio did not expect was a face from a past assignment to follow them on their cruise.

James Stark was the lowest of men. A blackmailer with a heart of ice. But who hated him enough to kill him? The list of suspects all circle around the same dining room table, including Stiles, Michael, and Lizzie.

They have less than two days before they dock in Liverpool to find the killer. If they don’t, he’ll walk off the boat Scott-free.

Nights of romance, declaring love, dancing in the ballroom, playing cards, a storm that nearly takes the life of one of our trio, and a murderer among them, all makes for an adventure on the deep sea.

This is the continuing adventures of the Pinkerton Man Series.

Goodreads * Amazon


 

Don’t miss the rest of the series!

 

 

The Pinkerton Man Series

The Pinkerton Man Series Book 1

Goodreads * Amazon

 

Murder in New York

The Pinkerton Man Series Book 2

Goodreads * Amazon

 

Aces Up

The Pinkerton Man Series Book 3

Goodreads * Amazon


C. J. Baty lives in southwest Ohio. Her heart however, lives in the mountains of Tennessee where she hopes to retire some day. The mountains have always provided her with inspiration and a soothing balm to the stresses of everyday life.

The dream of writing her own stories started in high school but was left on the back burner of life until her son introduced her to fan fiction and encouraged her to give it a try. She found that her passion for telling a story was still there and writing them down to share with others was much more thrilling than she had ever expected.

She has a loving and supportive family who doesn’t mind fixing their own meals when she is in the middle of a story. And a network of friends, who have encouraged and cheered her on in her quest of being an author.

One thing she has learned from life and she is often heard to say is: “You are never too old to follow your dream!”

 

Website * Facebook * Twitter * Instagram * Bookbub * Amazon * Goodreads


 

Follow the tour HERE for special content and a giveaway!

$10 Amazon giftcard,

Paperback of Deep As the Ocean,

ebook of choice from backlist

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Spotlight & Excerpt: Reluctant Groom Anthology + Giveaway

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This post is part of a virtual book tour organized by Goddess Fish Promotions. Megan Slayer will be awarding a prize pack with a necklace made by the author to a randomly drawn winner via rafflecopter during the tour.

Reluctant Groom Anthology
by Megan Slayer
Genre: Contemporary LGBTQ Erotic Romance

He’s older, wiser, and always gets what he wants. This wedding is happening … whether the groom likes it or not.

Our seven hand-picked stories feature young reluctant grooms and the older men determined to claim them. These forced marriages may start out frigid, but our authors will prove that love can conquer all.

Evernight’s Reluctant Groom anthology stories are sure to deliver passion that is off the charts, scorching hot sex, and sigh-worthy happy ever afters.

Worth the Risk by Allyson Young
Sins of the Father Hannah Morse
Room With a View by James Cox
Making It Real by Marie Medina
Protecting Chauncey by Cooper McKenzie
October Surprise by L.J. Longo
Not So Sham Wedding by Megan Slayer

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Read an Excerpt

 ©MeganSlayer, All Rights Reserved

“What do you want me to do? Stall her?” Lucas crossed his ankles and folded his arms again. “What do you think?”

He stared at Lucas. He’d known Lucas Cole for ten years and worked beside him for six of them. He was a sweet man, sexy, too, and the kind of guy he wanted to settle down with—the man he trusted. He’d been attracted to him since the first day they met. The idea of mixing work and play bothered him, but if anyone could help him out, it was Lucas. Besides, it’d give him a reason to see Lucas without thetrappings of the job. He’d always liked Lucas and wanted to take things to the next step—trying to figure out if they could be together. Now, he had the chance and he refused to squander it.

“Well? She’s in the elevator.” Lucas unfolded himself and stood. “What do you want me to do?”

“Marry me.” If he had to be a reluctant groom, then he wanted his best friend and confidante beside him.

“What?”

“It’ll put them off if I’m already engaged.” Hudson removed his prized diamond ring his father had given to him years before. He offered the jewelry to Lucas. “Marry me.” He dropped to one knee.

“Lucas?” Not quite the way he’d wanted to propose, but he’d do it over later.

“Me? They think you’re going to marry a woman.”

“I’m gay, and I’m not changing who I am for money.” He held up the ring. “Lucas?” If there was anyone in the world he loved outside of his family, it was Lucas.

“You should marry someone more suitable.” Lucas shook his head. “You need me as your assistant.” A lock of his blond hair slipped over his brow. He tightened his jaw and pressed his lips together. He could’ve been a model instead of an assistant, and he’d be the best one out there because he embodied sexy boy-next-door. He might be younger than Hudson, but Hudson didn’t care. He’d fallen for Lucas a long time ago.


About the Author:

Wendi Zwaduk, is a multi-published, award-winning author of more than one-hundred short stories and novels. She’s been writing since 2008 and published since 2009. Her stories range from the contemporary and paranormal to LGBTQ and BDSM themes. No matter what the length, her works are always hot, but with a lot of heart. She enjoys giving her characters a second chance at love, no matter what the form. She’s been the runner up in the Kink Category at Love Romances Café as well as nominated at the LRC for best author, best contemporary, best ménage and best anthology. Her books have made it to the bestseller lists on Amazon.com.

When she’s not writing, Megan spends time with her husband and son as well as three dogs and three cats. She enjoys art, music and racing, but football is her sport of choice. She’s an active member of the Friends of the Keystone-LaGrange Public library.

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Spotlight & Excerpt: Blonde Boy, Red Lipstick + Giveaway

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Blonde Boy, Red Lipstick

by Geoff Bunn

Genre: LGBTQ Romance

 

Boy meets… another boy. The first boy is straight. The second is a stunning blond(e) wearing red lipstick.

Touching on issues such as homophobia, gender, human relationships and insecurity, ‘blonde BOY, red LIPSTICK’ tells the story of a brief affair between two young people living in big cities more than 100 miles apart. But can their meetings, filled with love, music and laughter – not to mention dancing and shoplifting – overcome the inevitable barriers of naivety, doubt… and distance.

‘blonde BOY, red LIPSTICK’ is an old-fashioned love story. But it’s also a love story with a difference.

A marriage finally breaks up because of a photograph. A photograph taken years earlier…

– “A real page turner… it made me cry and laugh, often at the same time”. Susan, Reader

– There is something singularly urgent about the appeal of a breakup story… like taking a photograph of a wave before it rushes back to sea.” Leslie Jamison. The GUARDIAN

– “The portrayal of gender, straight, gay and transgender issues in this book is hugely important”.Clare Conville, one of the UK’s foremost literary agents.

– The character of Alley is wonderful… I adore her. More please!”LGBTQ Review.

“Wonderful!” The TIMES

blondeboyredlipstick - excerpt

We first met in 1981, on a cool day in mid-August.
I had just turned 18. I was good looking, with dark eyes and thick dark hair. At the time I was seeing a girl, but we were going nowhere. I knew that was largely down to me. I had a public face, a persona, which girls found very attractive. Outgoing, talkative, with an almost arrogant charm. That was how I appeared. I dated any girl, every girl, as and when I chose. But in private, once we were alone together, I was much less sure of myself. Quieter. More reserved. Shy really. And that, I knew – but couldn’t easily change – was less attractive. We were teenagers, and life was supposed to be fun.
Back then, I was still living in Birmingham, my home city. But on that day, a day I would never forget, I was in London, on a dreary work-related visit to the south east, travelling on a local train slowly making its way back into the city centre. Then at some anonymous suburban station, voices caught my attention and I looked up from my book to see a group of punks or something on the platform. They were just talking, laughing. Fooling around a little. Doing nothing in particular.
I watched them for a few seconds, focusing mainly on a slender girl with strikingly blonde hair and a short pink mohair jumper. She did a little dance and seemed to be making all the others laugh. For some reason I found it impossible to even look at her without smiling.
Then I went back to my reading: ‘There are moments in life that are given to us. Moments where we can make a choice. There is much more to the world than we realise, and those moments should be treated with special care when they do arrive. They are often crossroads or junctions. A clear choice between action and inaction. Sometimes mundane. Sometimes – and often, and we do not see it – one of them will be very precious. A chance to change a whole life. To act or not to act. If only we make the right decision, we might be able to change a whole story.’
Suddenly, just as the train was about to leave, someone jumped on board, opening the door right next to me and then dropping into the seat directly opposite. That felt a little odd. It was one of those open carriages with lots of woodwork and as many doors as there were windows. Strong smells of dust and warm moquette. But the train was almost empty too, so there was no need for them to sit so close. And as we moved off, I half looked up.
It was that same girl.
Other than the pink jumper, she was mostly wearing black. She had also scattered a half dozen glossy magazines on the seat next to her.
Then, once again, I returned to my book.
What happened next? A misunderstanding. That was all.
The train slowed down for the next station and I felt a strange sensation. I didn’t look up, because I could tell what it was.
And I was embarrassed by it. I even felt myself blushing. It was the girl opposite. She appeared to be periodically rubbing her shoe against mine, against my boot.
The train stopped. And then she did it again. Very lightly, but – to me at least it was quite definite – she pressed her shoe against mine. I tried to ignore it. Sure, it wasn’t much, but it wasn’t the kind of thing most strangers did on a train.
Then it happened once more.
Still I didn’t look up. At least, not fully. But I did glance over the top of my book, past the words I was no longer able to read or think about, and notice that she was wearing a longish, black, tight fitting skirt and leather high heels.
I guess because it was daytime and August, albeit a cool day, those clothes surprised me. And maybe that was why I looked at her legs for longer than I ought to have done, as she later assured me I had. In any case, from her, I went back to staring at the pages of my book, turning them slowly to make it look as if I was reading. Not sure what to think. I hoped that staying quiet would make her stop.
The train moved off. And then it happened again.
I didn’t know what to do now. Should I say something? I’d never had anyone sit opposite me and do that before, and it felt strange.
Why would she keep doing that?
As we approached the more urban parts of London, I glanced out of the window, first to my side and then across her to the other window, as people do, by way of an excuse so I could look at her without being too obvious. Not obvious? Well, that’s what we tell ourselves.
Oh. Fuck.
I don’t know why, but I hadn’t expected her to be so attractive. There was not only the startling bleached blonde hair, which I’d always loved, but above night-club-red lipstick, she had high, fine cheekbones which gave her an almost sculpted appearance, and narrow almond-shaped eyes, outlined heavily with eyeliner, the lashes darkened to black with mascara.
There was a coldness in that face too, yet at the same time, a vibrancy, a liveliness that bordered on the insolent. I could see all that immediately.
But there was also something else there that I couldn’t place. Not then. Nor could I study her for too long, because those almond eyes flashed a sudden glance at me and a bright smile passed across her face. I couldn’t tell what colour those narrowed eyes were, but I could see that they sparkled, that they shone.
I turned back to my book. The train stopped again. And we were stuck at another nondescript station for quite a long while.
I knew the girl was now watching me now. I could feel her gaze on me.
Then she lit a cigarette, took a few drags on it and seemed to blow the smoke straight at me. “Ooo, sorry, is that bothering you?”, she said immediately. The accent was a little strange, but where from exactly? I couldn’t place it at first. It was also, somehow, not an ordinary girl’s voice.
“Nah”, I said, making myself smile at her. “It’s fine. Really. I smoke myself sometimes.”
“Mmm”, she said quietly. “I thought it might be bothering you. Sorry.”
I didn’t reply. And she picked up one of her magazines and, very quietly, began humming to herself as she flicked through it. Maybe even singing a little. Then she tossed the magazine back down onto her seat.
“People can be rude like that, though, can’t they? With smoke.” She spoke quickly. The voice was nervous and I found myself watching her mouth, and those very red lips. “Sorry”, she said again. With a shy but wide smile. “I am. I’m sorry.”
That was it! There, in that final apology.
That was when I realised.
Those few extra words. They had given it away. The something about her. The something about her face. About her body language. About her movement. Everything. We made proper eye contact for the first time and I froze as we did so.
The girl opposite me wasn’t a girl. She was a boy!


“Humour, romance, society, gender, those are the sort of things I write about. I like true stories.”An established author, Geoff Bunn was born in Birmingham, England. He left school at the age of 16, without any qualifications, and began working in a factory. After four years of that… he left the factory and went back to college. And today, as both a writer and artist, he divides his time between homes and studios in rural France, the UK and southern Sweden.Geoff is always happy to hear from readers and can be contacted in person via his website or on social media.

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