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Publisher: NineStar Press Release Date: November 26, 2018

Title: Yule Love Her Author: Jodi Hutchins Heat Level: 3 - Some Sex Pairing: Female/Female Length: 21000 Genre: Contemporary, artist, marketing, personal assistant, holiday party, Yule celebration Being late for work turns out to be a stroke of luck for personal assistant Bec Strom when she catches the later metro bus and meets the alluring artist Joy Stevens. She’s just what Bec needs to distract herself from her overbearing boss and the holiday buzz. For over a year, Joy has been in a relationship hiatus due to the infidelity of her past lover, opting for impersonal trysts in lieu of an actual connection. She’s grown comfortable with this way of life until Bec steps into her world. Two days before Christmas, the women make a shocking discovery, a metaphorical wrench being thrown into their blossoming relationship. Will they overcome this obstacle and find a happily ever after or will they let a misunderstanding thwart their romance?

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Title: Just in Time Author: Jacqueline Rohrbach Heat Level: 3 - Some Sex Pairing: Male/Male Length: 16600 Genre: Paranormal, humor, ghosts, romance, Christmas, holiday The legendary ghosts of Christmas—Past, Present, and Future—failed to cure Evan Eazer of his misanthropy. He hates people, loves conflict, and has a swearing habit to boot. Phil, the Ghost of Imaginary Time couldn’t be more thrilled. Finally, it’s his turn to get off the bench and into the game. He’s sure he can cure Evan and earn back his place in the giving-people-Christmas-epiphanies rotation. Evan won’t reform easy. He’s immune to Phil’s many charms and seems content to live out the rest of his life bitter and alone. Worse, Phil’s time on the bench has left him ignorant to the ways of humanity. He struggles to navigate the new world and find his place within it let alone help someone else find his way back on the right path. But one thing Phil does understand about the strange world in which he finds himself is Evan and his pain. He knows what it’s like to be misunderstood by pretty much everyone. But can he get Evan to understand him, too?

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Title: Mine for Christmas Author: A.D. Lawless Heat Level: 3 - Some Sex Pairing: Male/Male Length: 14500 Genre: Contemporary, friends to lovers, Christmas, holiday, romance Matt Westin was shocked when he ran into Cody, his grade-school best friend—pleased, but shocked. Devastatingly handsome was an understatement when it came to Cody, with his hazel eyes, wide smiles, and broad shoulders. It was less shocking, months later, when Matt found out just how far he’d go for Cody. A desperate request for Matt to play his boyfriend over Christmas and save him from his mom’s meddling blind-date plans completely hammered that fact home. Matt couldn’t resist saying yes, not when it meant getting closer to Cody. The only question was how would he ever be able to let him go when it was over?

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Title: The Love of a Woodsman

Author: Gregory L. Norris

Publisher: NineStar Press

Release Date: November 19, 2018

Heat Level: 3 - Some Sex

Pairing: Male/Male

Length: 17400

Genre: Fantasy, LGBT, Paranormal, demons, shifters, holiday, romance

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Synopsis

Teddy Saunders wakes from a trance, trapped in a car speeding through a snowy December landscape, the prisoner of a sinister monocled man and his servant. His captors’ intentions soon become clear—Teddy is to be sacrificed to weaken magical wards surrounding a realm of sacred woods. Gable Flanigan, the handsome protector of those woods, foils their plans and rescues Teddy, taking him to his home deep in the forest. There, Teddy witnesses even greater mysteries and wonders than his demonic pursuers, including Gable, a man pledged to watch over the woods and all they shield from the rest of the world. In Gable’s home, the secret of their dark enemies deepens, as does the attraction between Teddy and his rescuer. But Teddy soon finds himself again in jeopardy—can the woodman’s love save him?

Excerpt

The Love of a Woodsman Gregory L. Norris © 2018 All Rights Reserved The car accelerated. From the corner of his eye, Teddy watched the speedometer’s numbers creep past seventy on a winding country road posted at thirty. Tires squealed across uneven pavement and frost heaves, but he barely felt the jolts. The drive was eerily smooth, as though the car was gliding just above the ground instead of traveling over tar. Then the man in the ski mask behind the wheel banked left and the illusion ended. Gravity tossed Teddy against the front passenger’s door. The car shook with a guttural ka-thunk, proof of the wheels striking a rut. Wind shrieked around the car. At first, Teddy thought the scream had come from him, but his lips, like most of his body, were paralyzed. The car shot into a snow squall. The world went dark around him. Frozen until the next second, when his cheek hit the cool glass, even Teddy’s thoughts came with difficulty. The man sitting directly behind him in the black sedan’s backseat, a well-dressed magician, had done something to him. A whammy, some kind of spell, screamed the voice in Teddy’s head. His thoughts unstuck from their disconnected state, sounding as intense to his inner ear as the December wind. He imagined the magician: pallid-faced, with short silver hair, dressed in a pinstriped gentleman’s suit and spats. What was it about those shoes that didn’t seem natural or right beyond their hopelessly outdated style? The man held a wooden walking stick, mahogany or… no, rosewood, like the walls in Clarke’s office. He remembered thinking the heel of the stick was scuffed, showing plenty of mileage, the crown capped by a large red jewel. And the magician wore a monocle. The monocle! Right as he’d heard the tap-tap-tap of the walking stick on the ice-crusted pavement in the parking lot of Howard, Canley, and Associates, Teddy had turned, and the man with the monocle glided up behind him, perhaps one of Clarke Howard’s clients, a fat cat investor. Or worse, one of the many foreclosed upon former owners evicted from their homes. The man with the monocle had turned out being neither, and he remembered two additional details, including what it was about the spats that so unnerved Teddy. As the car keys dropped from his hands, probably still sitting in the slush beside his car, he saw that the man’s spats were levitating several inches above the ground. “Boo,” he’d said. Teddy had gazed into the man’s monocle, thinking the eye behind it didn’t look right, didn’t look human, and then he’d lost the ability to command his own body beyond breathing and blinking. The sedan broke through to the other side of the squall. The road beyond the windshield leveled off, taking a clear shot through a dense belt of conifers. The forest of sap pines and hemlocks smeared into a wash of greens and grays as the speedometer jumped another three miles. Teddy’s ears popped. The wind screamed. “Do it, Smokey,” said the magician. A shiver teased the nape of Teddy’s neck, delivered on an icy finger of breath from the sedan’s backseat. Unable to fight it, Teddy surrendered to the ghostly caress, which tumbled down his spine. Smokey. The Monocle was speaking to the driver, the man in the ski mask. Teddy didn’t know how he got the nickname but guessed the reason was bad. Really bad. The man in the black ski mask tensed. Teddy imagined him applying the full weight of his foot on the gas pedal while his grip on the steering wheel tightened. In his terror, Teddy hadn’t realized how pale Smokey’s fingers were before now. Not simply white, but gray and tattooed in bruises. Smokey was dressed all in black. What Teddy could see of his face through the slits of the ski mask looked worse. Mottled and unhealthy, his was the flesh of a corpse. “Hurry up and do it, Smokey!” the Monocle said, the crispness of his voice falling apart, with burbles and croaks filling the gaps between words. “Kill him if you want to live!”

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Meet the Author

Raised on a healthy diet of creature double features and classic SF television, Gregory L. Norris is a full-time professional writer, with work appearing in numerous short story anthologies, national magazines, novels, the occasional TV episode, and, so far, one produced feature film (Brutal Colors, which debuted on Amazon Prime January 2016). A former feature writer and columnist at Sci Fi, the official magazine of the Sci Fi Channel (before all those ridiculous Ys invaded), he once worked as a screenwriter on two episodes of Paramount’s modern classic, Star Trek: Voyager. Two of his paranormal novels (written under my rom-de-plume, Jo Atkinson) were published by Home Shopping Network as part of their “Escape With Romance” line — the first time HSN has offered novels to their global customer base. He judged the 2012 Lambda Awards in the SF/F/H category. Three times now, his stories have notched Honorable Mentions in Ellen Datlow’s Best-of books. In May 2016, he traveled to Hollywood to accept HM in the Roswell Awards in Short SF Writing.His story “Drowning” appears in the Italian anthology THE BEAUTY OF DEATH 2, alongside tales by none other than Peter Straub and Clive Barker.

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Title: New Year's Shippin' Eve

Series: Until You, Book 1.5

Author: Karrie Roman

Publisher: NineStar Press

Release Date: November 19, 2018

Heat Level: 3 - Some Sex

Pairing: Male/Male

Length: 15400

Genre: Contemporary, LGBT, pets, holiday, new parents, adoption, musicians, Australia, New Year's Eve

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Synopsis

A Holiday Sequel to Shipped Lucas Evers and Ryan Lowe thought they had it all: successful careers, good friends and, most importantly, each other. The one thing left was to start a family of their own. Now seems a perfect time. The danger that stalked them is in the past, they’ve settled into their celebrity roles and the love between them continues to burn. They’ve signed all the paperwork to adopt a child and now await their longed for child to come along. Down Under for a traditional Aussie Christmas, Lucas receives some unexpected news they both thought would be months, even years, away. It’s the kind of news that will change their lives forever. What better time to share it with Ryan than New Year’s Eve? As they settle in to watch the fireworks over Sydney Harbour, Lucas tells Ryan the news, knowing that midnight will not just chime in a New Year but also new lives for them both. New Year’s Eve is their chance to put the past behind them and welcome their future.

Excerpt

New Year’s Shippin’ Eve Karrie Roman © 2018 All Rights Reserved “You’ll be here in ten minutes?” Ryan gasped in disbelief and looked around him. Over the phone line, Lucas chuckled. “Yeah, ten minutes. Is that okay? Or would you prefer me to stay away longer?” “No. No, it’s just that I thought you’d be at least another hour or two.” Ryan stood back from the carnage and wiped his brow. Sweat trickled down his cheek and between his shoulder blades, pooling in the swell of his lower back. It was hot today, uncomfortably, stinking hot, but that was summer in Australia for you. He took a deep breath and then another, fighting not to let the scene he surveyed disquiet him too much. He was filthy and the room he stood in looked like Dorothy’s tornado had recently blown through. Ryan had been on disaster movie sets that didn’t look as apocalyptic as this. He swept his gaze to Lucifer. The black kitten was reclining on the kitchen countertop like he was a regal deity. His yellow eyes were glaring at Ryan with a look that was a cross between boredom and bloodlust. Ryan didn’t trust that kitten not to sink his claws into him, given half the chance. Lucifer was supposed to be his cat, a Christmas gift from Lucas, but he was convinced the cat, at best, held mild disdain for him, and at worst, was plotting his imminent downfall. On the other hand, the cat adored Lucas. Its nights were spent curled on Lucas’s lap or in the crook of his neck. He’d hiss and spit at Ryan if he got within a half foot. Their intimate encounters had become less spontaneous and more well-planned undertakings since the obstinate little feline’s arrival in their lives only a week ago. “You know, I’m gonna tell Luke this was your fault,” he mumbled to the moggy, who answered him with a yawn. The kitten then stretched and turned his back to indicate his total disinterest in whatever Ryan had to say. Cats! Or maybe it was only this cat who was definitely not one to turn to if he was after a little affection. “What did you say?” Lucas asked. Ryan turned his attention back to his lover but didn’t take his eyes off the cat. “Sorry, I was thinking out loud. How come you’ll be home so early?” “We finished the interview early… You know, I can hang around here a bit if you need more time to get rid of the hot lifeguard.” Lucas’s tone was cheerful; there’d been many emotions shared between them but never jealousy. Lucas was aware of how much Ryan adored him and vice versa. “I told you it wasn’t me he was ogling, Luke. He couldn’t keep his fucking eyes off you.” “Oh, yeah,” Lucas laughed. “Then why the hell did he spend all day chatting you up every chance he got?” “Well, that’s simple. Because, like everyone who encounters you, he was in mute awe of the gorgeous, talented, kind, sweet, and amazing Lucas Evers, Hollywood megastar.” Ryan would have batted his lashes if Lucas had been there to see him. Lucas’s throaty chuckle was loud in his ear, and Ryan thought for the millionth time that it was the best sound he’d ever heard. “You are so good for my ego, Ry. Now let me hang up so I can get home to you. Ten minutes, remember. Ten minutes too long to have you in my arms again, if you ask me.” “Flatterer,” Ryan replied. “See you soon. I love you.” “Love you too, Ry.” Lucas murmured. Ryan hung up and put his phone on the countertop. Unfortunately for him, no fairy godmother had worked her magic while he’d been on the phone so the ruined mess of what had been their meal was still waiting for him. How had things gone so wrong? It had started out as such a simple idea. Something lovers had been doing for their partners since time immemorial. But Ryan hadn’t factored in a tiny black kitten with a superiority complex and a fondness, bordering on obsession, for seafood. Now, thanks to Lucifer, and a little bit of Ryan’s own culinary incompetence, he stood in the ruins of what had once been an immaculate kitchen and their delicious dinner. They’d been in Australia for three weeks. Lucas had wanted to spend a Christmas “Down Under” and had been able to tie their trip in with a couple of interviews and other publicity work for his latest movie. Ryan liked to think he’d shown Lucas the best of what Australia had to offer for a summer Christmas. Though having never really celebrated Christmas before, he’d had to google the most Australian things to do for the special day. In the end, he’d taken Lucas to Bondi Beach for Christmas Day. There’d hardly been an inch of sand to spare with all the other revelers. They’d met a lot of people that day and not one of them had been Australian. They may have spent Christmas Day on an Australian beach, eating Australian food, and drinking Australian beer, but they’d done it with a beach full of fellow Northern Hemisphere tourists, who were likewise here for a summer Christmas. The massive crowd had been intimidating at first, but Ryan was an expert at handling his anxiety these days, so he had managed to enjoy the day despite the vast number of fellow revelers. Lucas had proudly marched onto the sand in his Australian flag board shorts and matching terrycloth bucket hat Ryan had given him for Christmas that morning. Gold and green zinc had been smeared across his nose, and he’d looked adorable. His flight through the crowds while being chased by a flock of seagulls he’d foolishly tossed a chip at had been not quite so adorable, but definitely amusing. Cold meats and salads had replaced Lucas’s traditional turkey and baked vegetables. They’d sipped ice cold beers from their cooler, and Ryan had introduced Lucas to the great Australian pavlova. While Australia and New Zealand had fought for bragging rights over the dessert for years, Ryan had assured Lucas that it was most definitely Australian, which the Kiwis who’d overheard had vehemently, though good-naturedly, argued against. Regardless of origin, Lucas had taken to the dessert with an unhealthy flourish, devouring most of it easily. He’d spent the night nursing an upset stomach and claiming it wasn’t only the animals that tried to kill you in Australia; the food was gunning for you too. But, as much as Lucas had grumbled about the dangers of Australia, Ryan was touched to see his lover embrace his homeland. Dark sunglasses and large bucket hats had mostly kept them from being recognized, even when they joined a somewhat cutthroat game of beach soccer. For once, they’d simply been part of the crowd. They’d stayed well into the night, only leaving when alcohol-inspired singing had become too painful to bear. It had been a day Ryan was unlikely to forget. This was only the second Christmas Ryan hadn’t spent either alone or with only his drunkard father for company, such as that was. He didn’t honestly think a man passed out, usually in his own vomit, could be counted as company. Christmas had also been the day Lucifer had come into his life. He’d named him—unfairly Lucas thought—not long after the tiny kitten had climbed his body as if he were a tree and attacked his exposed throat. Lucas had tried to claim a loud bang had frightened the cat, but Ryan had not heard any bang, and he’d seen the fury and dislike in the pale-yellow eyes. A week later, Lucifer still seemed no closer to tolerating Ryan any more than he had to in order to ensure his survival. Tonight was New Year’s Eve, and Ryan had wanted to surprise Lucas with a special dinner for two before they saw in the new year together. And he didn’t want to go out to do it. They were staying in a penthouse apartment on Sydney’s North Shore, overlooking the harbor and city. The Harbour Bridge was so close to their right that the giant steel structure took up most of that side view. In fact, it almost seemed like the cars on the Cahill Expressway would burst right through their living room if they veered even slightly off course. The city of Sydney was like a sparkling jewel every night, but tonight when the fireworks would light up the city, the harbor, and the bridge, Ryan expected it was going to look particularly spectacular. It was a perfectly clear evening which promised the ideal backdrop for the pyrotechnic display. Ryan had hoped to be dining on the balcony in time for the 9:00 p.m. family fireworks and then in bed with Lucas watching the midnight fireworks from the enormous picture window of the main bedroom. If they timed it right, he’d have Lucas inside him—or vice versa—precisely on the stroke of twelve. “Well, Lu, are you gonna help me clean this up?” The cat gave him a side-eye and continued with his nap. The tiny feline may be plotting the downfall of mankind, but he was still adorable, and Ryan loved him.

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Meet the Author

Karrie lives in Australia’s sunshine state with her husband and two sons, though she hates the sun with a passion. She dreams of one day living in the wettest and coldest habitable place she can find. She has been writing stories in her head for years but has finally managed to pull the words out of her head and share them with others. She spends her days trying to type her stories on the computer without disturbing her beloved cat Lu curled up on the keyboard. She probably reads far too much.

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Title: Daughter of the Sun

Series: Tales of Inthya, Book Two

Author: Effie Calvin

Publisher: NineStar Press

Release Date: November 19, 2018

Heat Level: 1 - No Sex

Pairing: Female/Female

Length: 71900

Genre: Fantasy, LGBT, fantasy, pansexual, gods, romance

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Synopsis

Orsina of Melidrie is a paladin of the Order of the Sun, sworn to drive out corruption and chaos wherever she finds it. She has been ordered to leave her home and travel around Vesolda in search of a great evil she is supposedly destined to destroy. But after two years of fighting monsters and demons and evil gods, she does not seem to be any closer to her goal—or ever returning home. Aelia is the Goddess of Caprice, the personification of poor decision-making. The Order of the Sun has classified her as a chaos goddess, meaning that her worship has been outlawed. During a run-in with Orsina, she is trapped in a mortal body, rendering her unable to leave Inthya. Aelia is found by Orsina again, but this time Orsina does not recognize her in her new body. So Aelia pretends to be a mortal woman who is fleeing an abusive family. Aelia plans to use Orsina as protection as she hunts down the magical relic that will free her from her mortal body. As Aelia and Orsina grow closer to one another, Aelia wrestles with her own desire to tell Orsina the truth about who she is, and her fear that Orsina will turn on her if she does. But the decision might not be hers after all, because their actions have not gone unnoticed by Aelia’s siblings.

Excerpt

Daughter of the Sun Effie Calvin © 2018 All Rights Reserved Even from a distance, Orsina of Melidrie could tell something was wrong. The little village of Soria appeared to be a typical Vesoldan farming community. A field of green barley stretched toward the south, almost ready for the springtime harvest, and the farmers raised their hands to Orsina in greeting as she rode past. Down in the olive groves, trees were beginning to put out tiny, cream-colored blossoms while Sorian youngsters rested beneath the branches and tended to flocks of fat sheep. But when Orsina inspected the fields more closely, she saw the crops were choked with weeds and beginning to rot. It was as though they had been neglected for weeks, despite the presence of the farmers. Orsina also didn’t fail to notice that all Soria’s sheep still wore their heavy winter coats, though all the surrounding communities had held their springtime shearing days nearly a month ago. Most passersby would probably not notice such small details, but Orsina had dealt with situations like this before. She knew the signs of a village in thrall. According to storytellers, the correct attire for a paladin was heavy plate armor, and a matching set for her horse. Orsina supposed none of those storytellers ever visited southern Vesolda, for even in early spring it was too hot to even contemplate wearing anything heavier than her chain mail and tabard. Still, when she rode into Soria, children dropped their toys in the dust and abandoned their games to follow her. She doubted any of them had seen a paladin before, and so she gave them warm smiles and tried her best not to look intimidating. She did not know how successful she was. A temple of Eyvindr, God of the Harvest and Third of the Ten, stood at the center of town. But as Orsina rode past, she noted that the windows were dark and the orange trees in the garden were beginning to wither. Despite her curiosity, she did not linger there. Orsina dismounted in front of the tavern and tied Star, the gray Vesoldan mare that had been her mount for the last four years. The children were upon her in a moment, asking thousands of questions simultaneously. Was she a paladin? Was she from the Order of the Sun? Had she ever spoken to Iolar? Or one of the other gods? Was she from Bergavenna? Had she ever killed a dragon? A demon? A chaos god? Orsina answered the questions as best she could, but she wasn’t even sure if the children heard her replies. Finally, a man stepped out onto the front steps of the tavern, drawn by the noise. “Here, leave the poor woman alone!” he yelled to the children. “Go on, back to your chores. Get!” The children backed away reluctantly, and Orsina gave the man a grateful smile. He smiled back, but she could see the tension in his shoulders and the fear in his eyes. He did not want her here. “Do you have a room?” asked Orsina. “I was hoping to stay the night.” “Just the one. It’s not much, though,” he glanced at her armor. “Count Doriano’s manor is only a day’s ride from here. If you hurry, you might be there before dark, and not have to sleep on a straw mattress—and don’t tell anyone I said so, but his wine is better, too.” “I have endured worse than straw mattresses,” said Orsina pleasantly, wondering if the man would outright refuse to serve her. But instead, he turned back and yelled into the tavern. “Benigo!” he called. “See to the Dame Paladin’s horse, and bring her bags upstairs.” A young child, probably the man’s son, rushed out to take Star’s lead. Orsina let him do his work and went inside. The tavern was nearly empty, save for a few old grandfathers sharing stories. When they saw her, their conversations ended abruptly. Orsina looked around, taking in the ancient wooden furniture and dust collecting in the corners. Open windows let in the midday sunlight, and a massive empty stone fireplace took up the entire north wall. “It is an honor, Dame Paladin,” said the tavern-keeper, speaking too loudly as he moved around the back of the bar and fumbled for a tankard. “What brings you to Soria?” The question was innocently posed, the sort of question anyone might ask a strange traveler. But it was well known that paladins from the Order of the Sun were forbidden to tell lies. The tavern-keeper wanted to know how much she suspected, how much she knew. The old men were all watching her as well, their filmy eyes locked on her. “I am in search of a prophecy,” said Orsina. “Two years ago, my Baron, Casmiro of Melidrie, received a vision from Iolar. I was informed that Iolar meant for me to leave Melidrie immediately and defeat a great evil. I obeyed, of course, and have been in search of it ever since.” The tavern-keeper looked uncomfortable. “And you believe that evil is here?” he asked uneasily, his eyes darting back to the old men. “I do not know,” admitted Orsina. “Unfortunately, the Baron’s vision was sparsely detailed. I have destroyed many evil creatures in Iolar’s name since I left home, but never have I received a vision telling me that my quest was complete. While I am proud of all that I have accomplished, I admit I will be glad when I am finished.” “But you believe there is evil here?” the tavern-keeper pressed. Though her vows forbade her to lie, even Iolar could understand the occasional need to be obtuse. “There is evil everywhere, sir,” she said. “But we are only vulnerable to it when we tell ourselves otherwise.”

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Meet the Author

Effie is definitely a human being with all her own skin, and not a robot. She writes science fiction and fantasy novels and lives with her cat in the greater Philadelphia area.

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Title: Checked Baggage

Author: Valentine Wheeler

Publisher: NineStar Press

Release Date: November 12, 2018

Heat Level: 2 - Fade to Black Sex

Pairing: Male/Male

Length: 11200{Audiobook Length:39}

Genre: Contemporary, Thanksgiving, travel, airport, Lebanon, grief, holiday

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Synopsis

A Thanksgiving Romance When Faris has to take a trip back to his family’s home in Lebanon to handle his grandmother’s estate, he finds himself caught between the world he left and the world he’s built himself in the United States. After an exhausting stay with his boisterous extended family, all he wants is a quiet trip home and a chance to rest before Thanksgiving with his parents in Massachusetts. But the weather has different plans for him. Charlie’s father left when he was a toddler, and he’s never gotten a chance to connect with his paternal roots. A trip to the village his grandparents left in the 1930s gave him the facts but left him yearning for a connection he still didn’t feel. When both men are stuck in Beirut for the night unexpectedly, can they find the feeling they’re both missing and make it home in time for Thanksgiving?

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Meet the Author

Valentine is a latecomer to writing, though she’s always been a passionate reader. Through fanfiction she found her way to an incredible community of writers who’ve taught her to love making stories. When she isn’t writing, she’s making bad puns, yelling about television, or playing with her small child. Her life’s ambition is to eat the cuisine of every single country. Find Valentine on Twitter.

Title: A Touch of a Brogue

Author: Christine Danse

Publisher: NineStar Press

Release Date: November 12, 2018

Heat Level: 2 - Fade to Black Sex

Pairing: Male/Male

Length: 28800

Genre: Contemporary, chef, restaurant owner, food critic, lies, second chances

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Synopsis

Eric Rossi isn’t a bad person. But he’s been talked into doing some pretty regrettable things by the man he thought he loved–like write a fake review of a pub he never stepped foot in for a food magazine that makes or breaks restaurants in Portland. He’s since dumped the boyfriend, but he can’t undo the review or the damage it’s done to the Irish Sisters and its passionate owner, Colm. When Colm paid to have his family pub shipped from Ireland to Oregon, he put his savings, his heritage, and his sanity on the line. Now he gets so few customers, he notices each one. Especially the sweet, shy man who is dragged into the pub by his pink-haired niece. He calls himself Mark, and he is a chef’s dream, a man who completely enjoys everything Colm cooks. What Colm doesn’t know is that the man he’s falling for is the critic who’s almost cost him everything. Eric didn’t mean to fall in love with the Irish Sisters or its blue-eyed, Irish-American owner. He definitely didn’t mean to lie about his identity. He’s already done enough damage, after all. Now he must make things right for the restaurant and disappear from Colm’s life before Colm learns the devastating truth, because the last thing Eric wants to do is destroy the chef’s heart, too.

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Christine lives with her writing partner in the wilds of urban Oregon, where they raise weeds, worms, and eyebrows.

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Title: A Deceptive Alliance

Author: Sydney Blackburn

Publisher: NineStar Press

Release Date: November 12, 2018

Heat Level: 3 - Some Sex

Pairing: Male/Male

Length: 37200

Genre: Fantasy, twins, slow burn, royalty, cross-dressing, road trip, arranged marriage

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Synopsis

Kel and his twin sister Isabel have traded places before—to escape lessons, to prank their royal cousins, and for Kel to flirt with handsome men at royal balls. But when Isabel runs away in tears shortly before her proxy wedding to Prince Darin of Pervayne, Kel takes her place, knowing he could cause serious problems between Pervayne and their home kingdom of Karleed if discovered. Isabel will show up—eventually—and take her rightful place and no one will ever know. The question is, will Isabel arrive before Kel falls hopelessly in love with the servant his sister’s husband has sent along? What if Kel isn’t the only one pretending to be someone else?

Excerpt

A Deceptive Alliance Sydney Blackburn © 2018 All Rights Reserved Chapter One Kel was as nervous as any bride as he prepared to take his sister’s wedding vows to Prince Darin of Pervayne. More specifically, the prince’s proxy, a duke to whom Kel had never been introduced. It wasn’t the first time he’d dressed as his twin, but never for occasions of state—her wedding, of all things!—and never before had the consequences of discovery been so great. Twins were considered an ill omen in the kingdom of Pervayne, so Kel had been sequestered upon the arrival of the foreigners in a tower that had fallen into disuse. Isabel, who had always known that, as the king’s niece, her marriage would be arranged, had seemed resigned to her fate right until a few hours ago. She’d stormed into Kel’s draughty chamber in tears and swore she would only marry for love. Kel had tried to reason with her, but that had resulted only in Isabel accusing him of betraying her before she left in as much of a flurry of silks as she’d arrived. When her maid, Molly, was unable to locate her mistress in order to dress her for her wedding, she’d sought out Kel. He and Isabel spent a great deal of time together, under normal circumstances, and it was reasonable to assume that, even if they weren’t in company, Kel would know where she was. But he hadn’t. He had donned a hooded capelet to search out Isabel’s usual haunts, without giving away his close relation to her, while Molly waited nervously in Isabel’s chambers. Unable to find Isabel anywhere, he’d returned to her chamber, certain she must be there, letting Molly array her for the ceremony. She wasn’t. By that point, finding someone in the family—his cousin, the crown prince, for example—would delay the proxy wedding. Kel and Isabel had been raised in the royal palace after being orphaned at the tender age of three. They knew almost as much about the king’s policies as his own children, their cousins. Kel understood this ceremony, proxy though it might be, was an important aspect of the treaty King Maurice of Karleed had negotiated with King William of Pervayne. Now Isabel was gone, the proxy wedding only an hour away, and Kel was in his sister’s undergarments with his sister’s lady’s maid. “You could simply tell the king your sister’s run off,” the maid, Molly, suggested as she combed out Kel’s hair. “I wish it was that simple. But it’s still a much-needed political alliance and informing the prince’s envoy that ‘oops, we’ve misplaced the bride’ may be taken poorly.” “She is twenty,” Molly said with the kind of reproof only many years of personal service could get away with. “Time she wed and got over her foolish—” Kel nodded in the mirror, jerking the brush stroke somewhat painfully. Already his hair, normally worn in a single plait down his back, hung in loose dark waves over his shoulders. It softened the planes of his freshly-shaven jaw and angular cheekbones. “I know of her lovesickness for the gardener’s first apprentice.” Molly tutted. “If the world did not hold a woman’s virtue higher than a man’s, she’d have got him out of her system by now.” Kel coughed out a surprised laugh at the lady’s frankness. “You think it’s merely a passion of the flesh?” “I’m a woman myself,” she remarked. “I know of these feelings. Many a young woman in the palace feels the same for you, I’ve no doubt.” Kel snorted. “Pardon my frankness, my lord, but while it is fairly common knowledge among the staff at Castlemere that your eye never falls on the fair sex, many a maid desires to be the one to ‘fix’ you. Granted, many others are relieved to know there’s a man of rank in the palace who’s safe to encounter in a dark stairwell.” “I hadn’t realized I was so transparent,” Kel said cautiously. “Oh it’s none of ours what the above stairs get up to,” Molly said cheerfully, adopting a broad, country accent. “I can see her fascination with the gardener’s first apprentice, though,” he said in a thoughtful, if hesitant tone, still studying his reflection. The chemise he wore had a scooped neckline and only the thinnest of straps to hold it up. The delicacy of the fabric served to emphasize the most unladylike shape of Kel’s arms and shoulders. Because his sister dodged needlework to join him in the yard learning swordplay, her arms were almost as muscled as his—the sleeves of her gown wouldn’t strain if they were of a close-fitting style. Molly chuckled. “Simply to look at, he’s a fine specimen, especially when he strips down in the heat, but my mistress believes she’s in love with him.” “Could she be? I’ve heard love is a fickle thing.” “It is. But for people like you and the mistress, love and marriage are completely different things, my lord. Marriage is—” “An alliance, a joining of houses,” Kel finished with her. “You really should not be taking her place.” She lifted the frothy concoction Isabel was to take her vows in. “Come stand up and let me help you into this. Then we’ll see where we need to accentuate with some well-placed padding.” “It’s a proxy wedding. If the groom needn’t be here, neither does Isabel,” he said, trying to hide his uncertainty of the truth of his words. “What do you know of padding? Do you dress other men in women’s clothing?” “Naive child,” she mock scolded, dropping the heavy skirt over his head and tugging it into place around his waist. She quickly tightened the skirt strings. “You think every woman is naturally endowed with breasts ample enough, hips broad enough to suit herself?” “I hadn’t ever thought about it, finding neither ample breasts nor broad hips desirable,” he said. His previous adventures in Isabel’s clothing had been wrought in secret, Isabel powdering his complexion paler and lacing him into one of her awkward bodices. The ivory skirt was full and of a rather stiff fabric that someone had spent a great deal of time sewing pale pink, ivory, and white fabric flowers to, making it seem almost fluffy. “I think you can do without hip padding,” Molly said, giving him a critical look. She helped him pull the bodice over his head, being careful of the hair she just dressed. She tugged the lacing at the back and then moved to the wardrobe to fetch two small bags. She handed them to him. “Put these in your bodice. It’s millet, which gives a natural enough shape, but it won’t pass a squeeze test. Not that anyone should be grabbing at your chest, anyway.” Kel didn’t admit he was familiar with them. Nor did he ask how it was Molly knew of them. He simply did as she instructed. Today would be the first time he’d have to fool people in broad daylight. Including his own relatives. Molly laced him up tight and fixed his hair before standing back to study him critically.

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Meet the Author

Sydney Blackburn is a binary star system. Always a voracious reader, she began to write when she couldn’t find the stories she wanted to read. She likes candlelit dinners and long walks on the beach… Oh wait, wrong profile. She’s a snarky introvert and admits to having a past full of casual sex and dubious hookups, which she uses for her stories. She likes word play and puns and science-y things. And green curry. Her dislikes include talking on the phone, people trying to talk to her before she’s had coffee, and filling out the “about me” fields in social media. Besides writing, she also designs book covers for poor people.

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