Spotlight & Excerpt: The Ex’s Boyfriend + Giveaway

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The Ex's Boyfriend - Hurri Cosmo
Hurri Cosmo has a new MM paranormal ghost romance out: The Ex’s Boyfriend. And there’s a giveaway!

Mark has always been a Dominant. The Top in every relationship. Just ask Leon, his very ex-boyfriend, because that’s what he told Mark he was.

Okay, Mark’s only had the one relationship so the ‘always’ was a reach, but it didn’t matter. It was more than over with now, and Leon was long gone. That is until Leon felt it necessary to show off his new boyfriend, a gorgeous mountain called Rogan, by evidently telling him that Mark was stalking, bullying, badgering, harassing and get this, abusing him.

“He’ll kill you, Mark, because he loves me and wants to protect me.”

From whom? Skinny little Mark? What a joke. Because all Mark has ever done was exactly what Leon told him to do and that now included staying as far away from Leon as he could get. But how can he do that when Leon is hell-bent on proving all the lies he’s told Rogan about Mark were true, and by any means possible except the actual truth? Thankfully, it seems Rogan’s not quite as clueless about Leon’s wild imagination as Mark has always been. In fact, the big, beautiful man has come to Mark’s rescue a couple of times and has made it clear, Leon and he are not a thing. At least, not anymore.

Which is good since Mark is going to need Rogan’s help. Mainly because something else is out to get Mark. Something not Leon.

This something isn’t even human…

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Giveaway

Hurri is giving away an Amazon gift card with this tour:

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Excerpt

The Ex's Boyfriend meme
They took the elevator to the sixth floor and headed cautiously down a deserted hall. Okay, maybe it was only Mark who walked warily. Rogan marched slightly ahead of him and seemed to barge down the hall with his chest puffed out like some storybook bodyguard protecting the prince. However, no apparitions flew out at them this time, no lights exploded trying to kill them. When they got to Mark’s apartment, Rogan snatched the set of keys Mark dug out of his pocket and opened the door of 612 and attempted to turn on the light.

“It doesn’t work,” Mark remarked. “It never has.”

As if that might have been important in the whole scheme of things, Rogan turned to him. “Really? Why?”

“I have no idea. They have never been able to fix it, either.”

Rogan grumbled a string of profanities against landlords as he pulled out his phone. “Hey Raptor. Flashlight.” The phone shot out a bright beam and Rogan shined it into the apartment. “Where is a switch that does work?”

“Right here.” Mark glanced around the apartment before he tiptoed over to the switch in the kitchen and turned it on. The apartment lit up enough to see that everything was normal―so to speak. The destroyed TV was right where it had been when they left, debris still everywhere. Not the chaos Mark had walked into with Leon, but shivers of that time chased through him as well. “What I don’t get is why you don’t even have a scratch on you.”

“That is a mystery,” Rogan murmured. “What’s even more an unknown is why you were basically sliced in the first place. Cut, I would understand. But sliced?” He walked over to the large, jagged piece laying against the wall, the piece that had been laced with blood but no longer appeared to be and picked it up. “This should never have been sharp enough to do that.” He brought it over for Mark to see.

“Fuck,” Mark whispered as he gazed at the piece of plastic. “It’s… like a knife.” And it was. The six-inch, razor-edged side appeared paper thin, to the point of it being see-through. As if someone had purposely honed it down to that sharpness. “But… didn’t it have blood on it?”

Rogan narrowed his eyes and glared back at the plastic as if it had just lied to him. “You’re right. It did. Exactly my point.”

“Which is?”

Rogan glanced briefly at Mark. “This isn’t right. I mean, how does something like this even happen?” Rogan’s lips pursed together.

“So, what are you saying?”

“I’m not sure.” Rogan gazed down at Mark. “And I don’t like not knowing. I will find some answers. That I promise.” He sighed. “Now what do we need to take with us so we can get out of here?”

Mark packed a backpack while Rogan kept watch. Mark would have thought it laughable if he wasn’t so panicked. It was one thing to be bullied by Leon. Quite another by a ghost.

“The extra apartment key is in the kitchen drawer,” Mark told Rogan as he threw the backpack over his shoulder.

Rogan immediately reached over and grabbed the backpack. “Go get it. I got this.”

Heat climbing Mark’s face he walked quickly to the drawer. “I can carry it. I’m not a princess.”

Rogan smirked but remained silent as he adjusted the backpack and held out a hand to accept the key. “Thanks,” he said, winking at Mark when he dropped the key in his hand.

“I don’t know what you plan on doing but have at it.”

Rogan grimaced as if he were guilty of something and shook his head.

When they arrived at Mark’s dad’s house, Rogan insisted on walking Mark in. “I didn’t keep you safe like I promised. He deserves an explanation.”

“Are you kidding me? I’m not some fragile teenager on a date. Besides, I can take care of myself.”

“I know that. But security is my job, and I should have…”

“Should have what?”

“Known.” He knocked on the door.

“Known? How? Why?”

But Rogan remained silent. Except it was clear he was battling something in his head.

“Whatever,” Mark mumbled. “Just… I can take care of myself.” Mark went to knock as well but the door flew open in front of him, Mark’s dad standing on the other side.

“What the fuck is going on out here?” Rob snarled, startling both Mark and Rogan.

“Sir!” Rogan nearly shouted back, gaining the older man’s attention. Then he lowered his voice probably realizing how loud he was being. “Mr. Corda. Sorry to wake you…”

“What the hell happened to you?” Rob grabbed Mark and pulled him into the house. “Why the bandages?” He turned his attention back to Rogan. “Why is my son covered in bandages?”

Mark took immediate offence. “Dad, I’m standing right here! Ask me!”

“Um… sir…” Rogan interrupted. “it’s a long story.”


Author Bio

I am Hurri Cosmo and I live in Minnesota where I hold tight to the idea that here, where it’s cold a good part of the year, I won’t age as fast. Yep, I avoid the truth as much as I avoid mirrors. But one of the reasons I love writing is reality doesn’t always offer up a “happily ever after” and being able to take control of that is a powerful lure.

Being a happy ending junkie, writing just makes them easier to find. Oh, I don’t mind “real life” and I do try to at least keep it in mind when I write my stories, but I truly love creating a wonderful couple, knowing they will fall in love and have their HEA. Every – single – time. And, of course, that is exactly the reason I love reading this genre, too.

Give me a glass of red wine, some dark chocolate, and my computer, whether I am reading or writing, and I will entertain myself for hours. The fact I actually get paid to do it is Snickers bars on the frosting on the cake.

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Spotlight & Excerpt: Finally Home – Josiah + Giveaway

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

K-Lee is giving away a $15 Amazon Gift Card with this tour. Enter via Rafflecopter:

a Rafflecopter giveaway

Direct Link: http://www.rafflecopter.com/rafl/display/b60e8d47164/?


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