Wednesday, July 30, 2014

Book Blast: Designated Bottoms #bookcontest #multiauthor

Book Blast: Designated Bottoms

Let's meet the authors:
BA Tortuga: Texan to the bone and an unrepentant Daddy's Girl, BA Tortuga spends her days with her basset hounds, getting tattooed, texting her sisters, and eating Mexican food. When she's not doing that, she's writing. She spends her days off watching rodeo, knitting and surfing porn sites in the name of research. BA's personal saviors include her wife, Julia Talbot, her best friend, Sean Michael, and coffee. Lots of coffee. Really good coffee.

Having written everything from fist-fighting rednecks to hard-core cowboys to werewolves, BA does her damnedest to tell the stories of her heart, which was raised in Northeast Texas, but has responded to the call of the high desert mountains. With books ranging from hard-hitting GLBT romance, to fiery menages, to the most traditional of love stories, BA refuses to be pigeon- holed by anyone but the voices in her head. Find her at

Katey Hawthorne is an avid reader and writer of superpowered romance, even though the only degree she holds is in the history of art. (Or, possibly, because the only degree she holds is in the history of art.) Originally from the Appalachian foothills of West Virginia, she currently lives in Ohio. In her spare time she enjoys comic books, B-movies, loud music, Epiphones, and Bushmills. Find Katey at

Julia Talbot lives in the great Southwest, where there is hot and cold running rodeo, cowboys, and everything from meat and potatoes to the best Tex-Mex.

A full time author, Julia has been published by Torquere Press, Ellora's Cave, and Changeling Press. She believes that everyone deserves a happy ending, so she writes about love without limits, where boys love boys, girls love girls, and boys and girls get together to get wild, especially when her crazy paranormal characters are involved. Find Julia at @juliatalbot on Twitter, or at

Sean Michael: Often referred to as "Space Cowboy" and "Gangsta of Love" while still striving for the moniker of "Maurice," Sean Michael spends his days surfing, smutting, organizing his immense gourd collection and fantasizing about one day retiring on a small secluded island peopled entirely by horseshoe crabs. While collecting vast amounts of vintage gay pulp novels and mood rings, Sean whiles away the hours between dropping the f-bomb and persuing the kama sutra by channeling the long lost spirit of John Wayne and singing along with the soundtrack to "Chicago."

A long-time writer of complicated haiku, currently Sean is attempting to learn the advanced arts of plate spinning and soap carving sex toys.

Barring any of that? He'll stick with writing his stories, thanks, and rubbing pretty bodies together to see if they spark.

Sean's available for interviews, by the way. He can always be talked into, well talking about himself. Find Sean at

Shannon West: Shannon West currently lives in the South with her husband and family. A lover and avid reader of M/M romances, she began writing them a few years ago and now has over forty short stories, novellas, and novels to her credit. Her series about wolf shifters, the Dark Hollows Series and the sci fi series, Love Slaves of the Alphas, produced sixteen bestsellers with four of them going to number one on the third party sites. She was a finalist in the Rainbow awards for 2013, a nominee for best sci fi series in the Love Romances Café and very honored to be named an All Romance ebooks top ten author for 2013. She writes BDSM and some ménage as well. She loves men and everything about them, and believes that love is love, no matter the gender. She mostly spends her days at the keyboard, trying to elude housework, which stalks her relentlessly.

Links: www.shannonwestbooks.comTwitter: @shannonwest8
Amazon Page:
West/e/B006M4L976/ref=sr_tc_2_0?qid=1378053402& amp;sr=8-2-ent

Kiernan Kelly: Kiernan Kelly lives in the wilds of the alligator-infested U.S. Southeast, slathered in SPF 45, drinking colorful tropical, hi-octane concoctions served by thong-clad cabana boys.

All right, the truth is that she spends her time locked in the dark recesses of her office, writing gay erotic romance while chained to a temperamental laptop, drinking coffee, and dreaming of thong-clad cabana boys.


To date, Kiernan has over a dozen novels in print and ebook, and a plethora of short stories in both formats.


KC Wells: Born and raised in the north-west of England, K.C.Wells always loved writing. Words were important. Full stop. However, when childhood gave way to adulthood, the writing ceased, as life got in the way.

K.C. discovered erotic fiction in 2009, where the purchase of a ménage storyline led to the startling discovery that reading about men in love was damn hot. In 2012, arriving at a really low point in life led to the desperate need to do something creative. An even bigger discovery waited in the wings – writing about men in love was even hotter...

K.C. now writes full-time and is loving every minute of her new career.

The laptop still has no idea of what hit it... it only knows that it wants a rest, please. And it now has to get used to the idea that where K.C goes, it goes.

K.C. can be reached via email (, on Facebook ( or through comments at the K.C. Wells website ( K.C. loves to hear from readers.

Designated Bottoms
Twitter: @torquere
Cover Artist: Anne Squires
Publisher: Torquere Press Inc

About the book: So, what happens when you get a bunch of m/m writers together on a panel at a steamy little convention called Authors After Dark in Savannah?

In this case, we all sat around with the readers who came to our panel and chattered and laughed like idiots, and we talked about what we liked to read and write. There was a lot of smutty puns, and it was all fun and games until someone uttered the fateful phrase, “Right, and every story has to have a designated bottom.”

The writer and editor in me both went, “ooooh”. And I said, “Hey, does anyone want in on an anthology for next year with this theme?”

Enough of the writers at that panel, and a few who weren’t, said yes, and Designated Bottoms was born. When I sent out the call, this is what I said.

You’ve heard about Designated Drivers? Well, what about a Designated Bottom? The theme is open to all m/m stories where one man is a designated bottom boy, Whether self-imposed or by the Dom/lover/alpha of the pack or simply (either true or not) by society. Feel free to play with burly bottoms who surprise the deceptively sweet top, or with the too-smart kid who's the pushy bottom to end all bottoms. BDSM is fine, but not mandatory. A bottom may simply like to catch instead of pitch.

The stories I received delighted me. From a first-time cowboy and his new lover to a hardass Sergeant falling for a determined young soldier, from a hot gamer geek who doesn’t date to a sweet young thing on his first visit to a BDSM club, there’s something for everyone. There are princes and paupers, werekitties and strippers, and skinny twink-looking tops and big, gentle bottoms. They all left me fanning my hot cheeks and smiling at how the end result was two men in love, no matter how they got there.

The authors in Designated Bottoms have all reminded me why I fell in love with m/m as a genre damned near fifteen years ago, and of why I’m still writing, and publishing those stories today.

We’d like to dedicate this book to all the readers at Authors After Dark who thought this collection was a great idea, and to all the readers who keep us going every day by reading our books and letting us know they like them! I hope y’all love these stories as much as I do!


Sooooo...blurbage anyone: Some men are bottoms by birth, others by choice. Whatever the reason, a designated bottom is someone who’s happy to surrender, to submit, or just catch instead of pitch!

In Czech Me Out, by BA Tortuga, Korde discovers what it’s like to fall for someone when food truck owner Josh takes on the cowboy virgin. Katey Hawthorne’s gamer grad student Paul doesn’t date. He keeps things strictly physical. So why is Sammy so important to him in The Mistell? Kitty shifter and stripper Aleks doesn’t mix business with pleasure, but he thinks Rafe might just be the master for him in Julia Talbot’s Faster Bobcat.

Sean Michael’s Peter isn’t sure about the club his friend takes him to, especially when Doms start hitting on him. Experienced Dom Rupert is happy to help, explaining about that Little Square of Cloth. In Sgt. Hardass, by Shannon West, recent ex-Army man Jake meets up with a man he has history with, and Chad isn’t sure he can explain himself and defuse Jake’s anger. In the Prince of Paupers by Kiernan Kelly, Prince Liam and longtime friend Deacon have to go back to Deacon’s Appalachian home, much to the prince’s dismay. And in Switching It Up by KC Wells, Jay knows he looks like a twink, but only hunky Dean understands that looks can be seriously deceptive.

And a sneak peek:
From Czech Me Out by BA Tortuga
Josh had texted the fine cowboy as early as he felt comfortable doing it. He’d waited until nine. He figured it was gratifying that he got an immediate response.

“Noon?” he’d sent, and when he got an affirmative, he’d send his address. Then he set about making lunch.

He could tear that sweet body up, turn the Marlboro Man inside out and make Korde like it. He would soften the guy up with a few barbecue-filled potato skins... Barbecue, the redneck aphrodisiac.

Josh grinned. He’d swayed more than one hot little cowboy with his special sauce and some crispy potatoes. Of course, he’d never asked one to come to his house before, and certainly hadn’t gotten so interested so damned fast.

He’d never changed his sheets and made sure he was stocked with lube and rubbers, either. Not on a not-even-a-first-date. Lord. He was hopeful today, for sure.

Hopeful, horny and... oh, man, he needed an ‘h’ word...

The doorbell rang, saving him from having to be too creative. He told his cock to stay down for a bit and went to answer.

Frack and Frick were yapping their damn fool heads off, wagging and bouncing. Silly mutts. “Y’all get down.”

Josh opened the door a few inches. “You’re not afraid of dogs are you?”

“Not even a bit.” Korde leaned down and gave scritches, easy as pie.

Those two beagle-shepherd monstrosities went nuts, yodeling and wagging and begging.

Buy link: Torquere Press

Tour Date: 7/30/14

Rafflecopter time!

Thank you for the wonderful books you bring to your readers...
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Tuesday, July 29, 2014

Book Blast: Down on the Other Street @PridePromo @jennifercie1 #bookcontest

About Jennifer Cie: Jennifer Cie is a Tennessee native who loves taking aimless road trips, taste testing whiskey and low grade tequila—for science, and writing about social issues in everyday life. Self-proclaimed writer of “two cups of morning coffee” length books, Cie is the author of the fictional work Memphis Rain, creative non-fiction memoir Burn It, and the upcoming collection of short stories entitled Down On The Other Street.

When she is not getting lost driving across state lines, you can find her rambling about book formatting, poor life decisions, and everything in between on her blog:

Find Jennifer Cie here:
Twitter: @JenniferCie1

Down on the Other Street
Cover Artist: Najla Qambers
Publisher: Self-published

We've got blurbage: Long winded, unemployed, and timid, on the first date Brendan Bloom is already in love. Comfortably arched over his body, Ryan contemplates murder. Cold, necklace gleaming against the pale tint of her collarbone, the passenger could have mercy. Not a little black book, but a faded love letter out from under the sheets. Some romances ignite on sight, others flare at the base of waterless tubs soaked in agitation. Rooted in the South, this collection of short stories delivers five electric confessions of love, sexuality, and identity across time.

And a sneak peek: ““You’re not asking someone studied—you know? I guess the rough kind of good. Like when you floss your teeth till your gums bleed. Hurts a bit, but the taste and feel are good to you.”

My first “real” talk came from you in 1992. I was fourteen sitting on the edge of my father’s leather recliner watching you cut the edges off a peanut butter sandwich. You didn’t have any tattoos back then. You had on this red sweater with blue stripes swishing through it. That pesky string of acne was still running down your right cheek when you offered me half of the sandwich.

“Anna. Why do you want to know about sex—from me?”

I wanted to tell you that the walls in my house had grown thin. Even with the stretches of screeching cars passing by and gargled whispers from the Mississippi River outside, I could hear everything tiptoeing inside. The high pitched turned guttural shrieks the women in my brother’s magazines evoked. The sound of the calluses on his hands attacking flesh like rubberized sandpaper; then, the wheezing attack followed by a hushed “guuu-ah” and tissues sopping up warm ooze. The late-night lullaby to my summers had changed, and I wanted to know the words.” –Excerpt from Intellectuals Are Fools

Buy links: 
Paperback: Amazon & Createspace

Tour Date: 7/29/14

Rafflecopter time!

Thank you for the wonderful books you bring to your readers...
Pride Promotions

Monday, July 28, 2014

Story Orgy Monday...Farewells & Greetings pt. 8

Happy Story Orgy Monday!
. .
This week's prompt:  He'd have to hitch a ride home.

And now for your reading pleasure…

Farewells & Greetings
pt. 8
copyright © 2014 Havan Fellows

Pip thinks I'm beautiful? This statuesque man with long black hair and piercing blue eyes thinks that I'm beautiful? Did he not notice my pasty white skin with the orange dots all over it or the extra padding around the midsection at the spa last week?

Okay...just breathe, in through the nose and out through the mouth. Don't let him see you doubt yourself or his words. Don't bring attention to the fact that you don't agree.

Riley thought I was beautiful, why can't Pip? In truth, Riley was the gorgeous one, really. I was lucky to get him...seems like the odds are against me being lucky like that twice in my life. I'm not bringing anything to this relationship. Pip's the one with the personality, he's the one with the great smile and laugh that makes everyone else join in, he's the one with the sexy tats and piercings...and holy shit I really do like them.

My god, if he knew how little I thought of myself he'd never waste his time, I'd probably have to hitch a ride home. I had my chance and I lost it, life doesn't give you a second chance, not at a forever love. Maybe that's it, I should just jump into bed with Pip, get what I can get and move on. Sooner or later he's gonna see me for the loser I am, he'll get tired of dealing with my insecurities, he'll decide that I'm not worth all the trouble, not worth all the effort to sustain a relationship with me.

"You know, when I was in school there was this shy kid. He was a good kid, athletic and smart, but couldn't put two words together in front of anyone but his closest friends. He was sure no one would be okay with his—well let's just call them his charms, though he called them his idiosyncrasies. It was a shame that people didn't have the patience to get to know him."

Dwight jumped at Pip's voice. My god could the man read his mind too? Wasn't the first time Dwight thought that, and he didn't believe it would be the last either.

"You were shy as a kid?" Yeah, Dwight wasn't buying that story.

As he pulled into the parking lot, Pip winked at Dwight. "He tried everything to get out of his shell. He signed up for all types of clubs, joined a select few sports, even managed to get himself a popular girlfriend. Nothing worked. As soon as someone approached him to say hello he would become mute. When he walked in the halls he'd look up at the ceiling or down at the floor to avoid eye contact with anyone, because, of course, if he looked at someone directly in the eye that might encourage conversation. Mustn't have that, right?"

Pip parked the station wagon and they walked to the entrance.

"So, the third date is dinner? How conventional of you."

"Ye of little faith," Pip whispered in Dwight's ear before grabbing his hand. "So, if this shy kid had just taken the time to really look around him, he'd have realized that people appreciated his little quirks. His worst enemy was himself."

"You'll never convince me you were a shy kid." Dwight reached for the door but Pip beat him to it, turning and smiling like he was about to divulge a huge secret.

"One day I have high aspirations of convincing you that the kitchen should be yellow and the bathroom blue. I hope to convince you that tattoos can tell a story sure as any leather bound tome does. I might even convince you to let me grope on you later in my car outside of your home...but I would never try to convince you that I was ever shy."

He stopped in the middle of the open doors and pressed his lips to Dwight's, causing the hair on the back of Dwight's neck to stand up and tingle. Yeah, Pip was not shy.

"Now," he continued after ending the kiss and ushering Dwight into a very low-key looking waiting area and bar for the restaurant. "Now, Barry was intensely shy. Froze up and sputtered every time someone said hello to him. Missed out on the best years of his life, let's just pause for a moment to say a prayer of thanks that Nikki—the popular girl I told you about—saw past it and married him. That guy would be lost without her."

"Your brother, Barry?" Dwight couldn't believe it.

The host looked up and genuinely smiled at Pip. He immediately set down the papers he'd been holding and escorted them past the huge divider into what could only be described as a huge ballroom with tables littered all around a huge oval dance area. In the center of that dance area were two women and a man...belly dancing.

Dwight's mouth practically hit the floor.

A hot breath wafted over his ear, "Not your conventional dinner date anymore, huh?"

The host chuckled, "Will you be joining them tonight, Pip? Maybe entice your boyfriend into trying something new?"

Dwight gulped loudly, eyes zeroing in on the male off to the right rolling his abdominal muscles as he popped his hips to one side then the other. A vision of Pip drape in the sheer fabric moving like that for him made Dwight's pants feel suddenly very tight.

Yeah, his Pip was definitely not shy.

To be cont'd...
Don't forget to check out the great stories on my fellow orgiast's blogs! :)

Lee Brazil's story: click here
Hank Edwards' story: 
click here

Monday, July 21, 2014

Story Orgy Monday...Farewells & Greetings pt. 7

Happy Story Orgy Monday!
. .
Okay – Pip and Dwight are back again...let's see how it goes. :)

This week's prompt:  He'd never noticed a door there before.

And now for your reading pleasure…

Farewells & Greetings
pt. 7
copyright © 2014 Havan Fellows

"So, are you ever going to answer my questions?" Dwight asked as they strolled through the park, away from the playground area.

Pip grasped his hand and kissed his fingertips. "Are you ever going to ask me these questions you demand the answers to?"

"I did."

"Did you?"

Chuckling, Dwight nodded slowly. "Yes, I did. How did you find me at the playground?"

"Oh that was easy. The private investigator told me that you were hanging out there."

When they came to a fork in the trail leading in two different directions Pip led them to the right without missing a step.

"Private investigator..." Dwight sputtered, "You're kidding, right?"

"Of course I am. That would be a little creepy, not to mention he was a little too sleazy for my liking. I don't need him to get a peek at my freckle pop and get any unnatural ideas."

"Unnatural ideas?" Dwight tried to muffle his snort, but this conversation didn't seem to be working for him.

Pip stopped walking and lifted Dwight's hand high, swinging him around so they faced each other. "Do you think we're far enough away?"

Not sure if it was the impromptu twirl or just Pip's communication skills, but Dwight's head suddenly spun as if the earth had tipped on its axis. "Huh? Far enough away from what?"

"For what."

Dwight blinked at him, so confused he didn't even register that his shirt had been pulled down tight around his shoulder by Pip. The collar stretched to its limit. "For what?"

"Exactly..." Pip leaned forward and lightly touched the tip of his tongue to Dwight's exposed shoulder.

He jumped at the cool wetness gently caressing his skin. A glance to his left showed Pip stabbing his skin over and over in different spot. "Um...Pip? What're you doing?"

"Mmm, tasting your freckles. They're de-li-cious." He dragged out the word to a ridiculous amount of syllables.

"Oh? I always thought they'd taste bitter with all the grief they've given me." Dwight tried to make a joke as he stood still for this uncomfortable inspection of the hundreds of blemishes on his body.

Pip snorted as he started up the side of Dwight's neck, the hot puff of air tickling his senses. "I can't imagine anything on you being bitter. I'd go so far as to say I bet even your cum will be sweet and tasty washing over my tongue. Looking forward to finding out."

"Here?" Dwight's voice cracked high. His cheeks heated up with embarrassment. "I mean here, now?"

Pip pulled back and smirked at him. "You kinky lil exhibitionist, you. I knew you'd give me a run for my money. But alas, no...not here. Not even now for that matter; this is only our third date, after all, and we have a schedule to keep."

His heartbeat slowed down now that Pip's tongue no longer danced over him and they weren't talking about public sex, but a small niggle in the back of his mind cried in disappointment. If Pip did attempt to drop to his knees, would Dwight have let him?

"Your schedule, yeah," He sighed those three words that proved oh my god, yes, he just might've let Pip.

After he straightened Dwight's shirt again, Pip grabbed his arm and led them farther down the path.

"Now, don't be knocking my schedule, you won't believe the willpower it takes to keep you an honest man."

"Where are we going?" Dwight noticed they'd ventured all the way to the other end of the park, but instead of following the path back around, Pip shuffled them off of it onto the sidewalk. His behemoth station wagon awaited them, parallel parked between a VW bug and an older model two door Saturn.

While he watched, the back portion of the Saturn, right behind the passenger door, swung open in the opposite direction of a normal car door and a teenager came bounding out, slamming the hidden door and running after a couple of other kids farther down the sidewalk. Funny, he hadn't noticed a door there, it was like a hideaway exit or something, kind of cool looking.

"Your chariot awaits, freckle pop."

Dwight switched his gaze from the yellow Saturn to the even older Mercury station wagon Pip drove. He looked at his date and tried again with the questioning.

"Why do you keep calling me that?"

"Because I like them, and when I like something, I tend to talk about it as often as possible."

He was so shocked that he actually got an answer that he forgot Pip was waiting for him to get in the car. "You like them? Why?"

"Why not? They are unique, and in some cultures are considered beauty marks...which means that you are beautiful from head to toe. It's befitting, because you are."

To be cont'd...
Don't forget to check out the great stories on my fellow orgiast's blogs! :)

Lee Brazil's story: click here
Hank Edwards' story: 
click here

If you are interested in reading the first book to this prompt can find it here at ARe...hope you enjoy!