Thursday, October 23, 2014

NEW RELEASE! Underneath It All @KCanterbary

underneath GR
Title: Underneath it All
Author: Kate Canterbary
Date of publication: October 21st, 2014

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About Underneath it All:

If I had known I'd have a hot architect balls deep inside of me before the end of the weekend, I'd have made time for a pedicure.

Lauren

It's all the little things—the action plans, the long-kept promises—that started falling apart when my life slipped into controlled chaos.

After I met Matthew Walsh.

I couldn't decide whether I wanted to run screaming or rip his pants off, and most days I wanted a little of both. If I was being honest with myself, it was rip his pants off, ride him like a workhorse, and then run screaming.

Matthew

A rebellious streak ran through Lauren Halsted. It was fierce and unrelentingly beautiful, and woven through too many good girl layers to count, and she wasn't letting anyone tell her what to do.

Unless, of course, she was naked.

She wasn't looking for me and I sure as shit wasn't looking for her, but we found each other anyway and now we were locked in a battle of wills, waiting for the other to blink.

Sometimes the universe conspires to bring people together. Other times, it throws people down a flight of stairs and leaves them in a bruised and bloodied heap.

Q&A with the Author

What made you write this book?

The Walsh Series originated from a project I was consulting on last year. An educational organization was attempting to get the legislature to revise regulatory guidance around repurposing Industrial Revolution-era mills and factories for schools, and I met an incredible team of architects in the process. They were some of the most brilliant, complex individuals I'd ever encountered, and they were ridiculously adorable, too.

At the time, I was also running into brick walls with my work-in-progress. I took a vacation from that manuscript and started imagining a family of brilliant, adorable architects, and within a few days, Patrick, Matthew, Shannon, Riley, Sam, and Erin were born.

Do either of your characters relate you to or someone close to you?

One of my beta readers is also very close to me, and she suggests that touches of me and others in my world show up in my characters, but none of my characters are based on anyone else.

In fact, I've tried that and failed – my characters have a mind of their own, and pushing them to conform to preexisting models of speech, behavior, or motivation doesn't work well for me.

What can we expect from your book that's so different from other authors out there?"

Architects are a rare breed, and the Walshes take it one step further by dedicating themselves the worlds of sustainability and historic preservation. They're creative and instinctual, and know something about expertly tailored suits and husky growls, and the genre hasn't introduced us to many of their kind.

Beyond the focus on architecture is my desire to write people that we think we know, but we have no idea. Andy and Lauren are great examples of characters we think we know – their types – but when we peel it all back, we realize we didn't know them as well as we thought.

What is your writing process like?

My brain is a little funky. I'm quite talented with action plans and project management, but I hate forcing myself into those parameters.

I can outline a book, but I'll start writing and promptly deviate from the outline. After fighting all of my instincts, I stopped with the structures and apps and rules, and just let the words flow. It exists in a chaotic ecosystem in my head, and I'm praying the dementia doesn't set in too soon.

Excerpt

Tipsy. I was definitely tipsy.

Tequila was to blame for the current state of blissfully inebriated affairs, such as they were. His tie sat crisply folded beside his beer bottle, green with small pink shapes, and the collar of his white shirt gaped open. And I wanted to taste him right there.

It was late, the bar nearly empty, and far, far past the proper end for a normal business meeting, but this stopped being a business meeting when we walked through the door.

None of my other first dates—or fourths, for that matter—involved hole-in-the-wall bars or innuendo-laced discussions of architecture. They never involved Matthew Walsh either. This was all rather peculiar, much like that fun, buzzy feeling in my body. He smiled at me, a smug, knowing expression that told me he was watching my inhibitions evaporate by the minute.

"If you hadn't come out with me? What would you be doing tonight?"

"I'm not winning at work-life balance these days," I said with a grimace. "I'd probably be working on a few overdue projects."

Matthew held up his palm and I stared at it for an embarrassingly long time before meeting his high five. His fingers laced with mine, and for a moment, I could only gape at the way they layered together. He was touching me and I liked it, and somewhere in my head I knew this was strange. I wasn't into boys right now. I mean, I wasn't into girls, either, but I wasn't doing the whole boys and dates and worry about whether I shaved my legs thing.

"Balance is overrated."

I laughed. "Yeah? And what would you be doing? If you didn't maneuver me into drinking with you all night, that is."

"Maneuver? That's strong."

He rubbed his thumb against my palm, and I bit down on my lip to prevent the tipsy giggles from leaking out.

It was just a thumb circling a palm, and it shouldn't have been especially delightful, but if confronted with a choice between this and calorie-free cupcakes, I saw no contest. I liked this, and I didn't want it to stop.

About Kate Canterbary
Kate doesn't have it all figured out, but this is what she knows for sure: spicy-ass salsa and tequila solve most problems, living on the ocean--Pacific or Atlantic--is the closest place to perfection, and writing smart, smutty stories is a better than any amount of chocolate. She started out reporting for an indie arts and entertainment newspaper back when people still read newspapers, and she has been writing and surreptitiously interviewing people—be careful sitting down next to her on an airplane—ever since. Kate lives on the water in Rhode Island with Mr. Canterbary and the Little Baby Canterbary, and when she isn't writing sexy architects, she's scheduling her days around the region's best food trucks.



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Wednesday, October 22, 2014

A Bittersweet Haunting/A Holiday Job Zombie Run by @TaChase & @JackieNacht @MLRPress @eXtasyBooks #CONTEST

A Bittersweet Haunting/ A Holiday Job Zombie Run
 TA Chase Jackie Nacht/ Jackie Nacht

Author Bio: Jackie Nacht
Short, sexy and sweet— where a little love goes a long way.

That’s the best way to describe Jackie Nacht’s stories. She was introduced to M/M Romance through her sister, Stephani, and read it for years. Then, she thought it was time to put her own stories on paper. Jackie began writing short and sweet stories that ended with a happily ever after.

Thinking back to her own book addiction, where there were many nights Jackie stayed up way too late so she could read just one more chapter— yeah, right— Jackie decided to write short romances for young adults as well as adults. Hopefully, they will give high school and college students, or working men and women something they can read during their lunch hour, in between classes or just when they want to briefly get away from the daily stresses of everyday life.

You can find Jackie at:



Author Bio: T.A. Chase
I’m T.A. Chase, and I write stories about men loving men, but my stories are more than that. It’s about one person finding the other half of themselves. It doesn’t matter whether that person is male or female. I’m a happily married woman living in the Midwest with my husband of fifteen years. I’ve been writing for six years now, and because of my awesome readers, I’ve been able to do it full time for over a year.

You can find TA Chase at:



Publisher: MLR Press/ eXtasy Books
Cover Artists: Kris Jacen/ Carmen Waters


A Bittersweet Haunting

In a moment of youthful curiousity, these six men were marked forevermore.

Jersey Paranormal Investigation was created when Braden and his five friends were marked by the Jersey Devil during their childhood. Now, they all have special gifts when it comes to the supernatural. Years later, Braden finds himself on his next job only to come face to face with the beautiful victim, Mack. Not all is it seems and Braden and his team will have to figure out why Mack is being targeted and to keep from falling for the man in the process.


A Bittersweet Haunting EXCERPT

Turning, Mack made his way to the old flight of stairs that creaked with every step he ventured. Goosebumps popped up on his flesh the more he ascended. Breathing heavily, Mack took the last step and cautiously made his way down the hallway. The air hung thick, and he almost choked on it. The closer he got to room 212, the more his flight instinct raised its red flag. The only reason he kept going was that he did not want to embarrass himself by returning empty-handed because he had been spooked.

Standing in front of the door, Mack’s hand trembled as he reached for the handle, finally turning it. Blowing out a breath, Mack decided to just get it over with. As fast as he could, he entered the room, searching for the box that held the spare linens.

Out of nowhere, a blast of freezing cold air hit him in the face, knocking him on his ass. Whipping his head around, Mack searched for an open window, only to find that all of them were tightly shut.

I’m getting the fuck out of here.

Climbing to his feet, he grabbed a box, praying that it was the right one and took off out of the room, not even bothering to close the door as he descended the steps two at a time.

Clutching the box to his chest, he leaned against the wall at the base of the stairs and caught his breath.

“Hey, are you okay?” Nick came up to him, relieving him of the box.

Mack wiped his sweat-soaked forehead. What the hell was that? His heart was still pumping, and his mouth couldn’t even form the words to lie to Nick and tell him he was okay.

Megan came up next to Nick. “You all right?”

Nodding, Mack rasped out, “I’m fine…just…” He just couldn’t say it. There was no way he was going to say something weird happened upstairs, especially when he actually didn’t see anything. Hell, was it all in his head because he was freaked about going upstairs? Possibly.

Shaking it off, he finally answered, “I’m fine. Let’s go, Nick, and get the Ivy Room set up.”

“Are you sure?” Megan eyed him with concern.

“Yes, tea starts in forty-five minutes. I better get moving.”

For the next half hour, Mack and Nick set up the room. The linens were placed on the tables—thankfully Mack had grabbed the right box. They both worked in unison, setting the silverware up and getting the china out for each member of the party coming in.

“I’m just going to fill up their water glasses,” Mack called over to Nick who was doing the final touches on center pieces.

Going behind the bar, Mack grabbed a pitcher and began getting ice out of the bar well. As they both worked, the curtains billowed as a gust of wind came into the room. Mack shot a look toward Nick to see him wide eyed as the room's temperature suddenly plummeted. Before Mack even had time to think, the bar rack above him came crashing down upon him.

“Mack!” Nick cried out from across the room as glasses began shattering all around him.

Stunned, Mack couldn’t even move an inch as the shards of glass surrounded him. The floor, the bar, even his body was covered in the sharp glass. He feared if he moved so much as an inch, he would cut himself. The sounds of people screaming and hollering broke him out of his shock, and he slowly raised his head, feeling glass fall from his hair, to stare at Megan from across the room.

“Don’t move, Mack. We’re coming to help you.” Megan gingerly made her way to him, accompanied by the sound of glass crunching under her feet.

“Not…moving.” Mack felt the glass slide down from the top of his head and fuck if that didn’t give him the biggest case of the willies.

“I’m going to need some help and a pair of gloves,” Megan called to Nick.

Nick nodded and ran out of the room.

Megan pursed her lips as she began pulling large pieces of glass off him.

“Are you okay?” Megan asked quietly as she worked the glass out of his hair.

“Not even close.” Mack’s voice trembled, and he hated that.

“What happened?” Megan asked.

Nick came up behind them and answered. “There was this blast of cold air, and then the whole bar rack came crashing down on Mack. It was a ghost.”

“It wasn’t,” Mack denied. If he denied it enough, maybe he would eventually believe it himself. Maybe.

“Hon, that rack is oak. It’s as solid as they come. Wind wouldn’t have caused it to break. Plus the windows aren’t open. I think you had an encounter, and a violent one at that. I think I’m going to need to make a call.”

“It’s not that bad.” Even as Mack said that, he knew it was a lie. Something inside him felt violated, and an air of malice hung thick over him.

“Then let’s just have it checked out for peace of mind. Okay?” Megan grabbed the gloves from Nick and began plucking the tiny shards off his shoulder and neck. Her gloves came away from his skin with a trace of blood.

Swallowing, Mack gave in. “Maybe you’re right. Make the call.”

A Holiday Job Zombie Run
This Halloween, Drake is about to meet one guy he can’t say goodbye to.

And Drake is about to meet his match.

After a casual encounter, Drake can’t seem to stop thinking about Wilson. Even though Wilson pretty much thanked him for a nice time and walked out of his dorm and his life.

Now Halloween is approaching, and Drake is being roped into volunteering for the charity fun run. Having to dress as a zombie is horrible enough, but seeing Wilson at the starting line has Drake ducking for the trees. Will Wilson look past the gory makeup to see Drake actually cares about him? Will Drake finally be able to capture Wilson’s heart?




A Holiday Job Zombie Run EXCERPT

 “Will you knock that off?” Drake batted Ian’s hand away.
    “Look, asshole, I need to put this makeup on you. You volunteered!” Ian charged back in and began putting the prosthetic on his face.
    “Don’t you think you’re going overboard on this? I mean, why don’t you just squirt some ketchup on me?” Drake was thoroughly annoyed.
    He’d volunteered to be a zombie for Ian’s frat charity run. He had thought he would just tear some holes in a white shirt and put a little makeup on, but no, Ian wanted to scare the hell out of everyone. The guy thought he was on Skin Wars or some shit. Drake wanted to scratch the prosthetic on his cheek that was currently being painted to look like a zombie. He thought he looked ridiculous. Shaun was splattering paint all over his shirt.
    “This is just a Zombie Run, guys. I’m not going to be in a movie or anything.” Drake stared up at Ian, annoyed.
    “Have fun and live a little. You’ve been in a pissed-off mood for the last month.” Ian pointed out.
    And why shouldn’t he be? He hadn’t found the guy he’d hooked up with last month, and it was now his all-new obsession. He hadn’t had sex with anyone since and was constantly long necking the corridors in hopes of finding that white-blond head.
    It didn’t matter how hard he tried; the guy was nowhere. Drake was beginning to wonder if the guy even went to their college. Shaun had helped him, but so far, his friend couldn’t spot him either.
    Drake had never been so caught up with a person in his life. Unbelievably, he’d had dreams of the guy and those sapphire eyes, but it was like this damn race. Whenever he tried to go after him in the dream, the guy took off in a crowd and he couldn’t find him. Drake growled in irritation at his own thoughts.
    “It’s not that bad,” Ian chastised, probably mistaking his growl for a complaint about the stinky paint that was being applied to his face.
    Drake wasn’t going to correct Ian on the matter. Then, he would have to explain to all his friends again about the big about face he’d had this year. They all had looked at him like he had lost his ever-loving mind. And he had. He didn’t even know the guy’s fucking name, yet he was hunting him down all over campus like some stalker.
    Shaun came in with a grotesquely painted face and a smile. “Didn’t Quinn do a great job?”
    Shaun was actually happy to look like the dead. Really. Didn’t that shit all over his face itch like crazy, or was it only bugging the hell out of me?
    “You look like you got ran over by a truck.”

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