Thursday, April 20, 2017

Terrence: A Short Story by Alice Rachel

Title: Terrence: A Short Story
Author: Alice Rachel
Series: Under Ground #.8
Genre: M/M Romance, Dystopia
Release Date: April 14, 2017
Bullying is nothing new to Terrence Young. The teasing and harassment are constant. His family is less than understanding as well. To them, Terrence chose to be gay and complicate their lives. Their little rejections sting and cut him deeply.

But when the Deviance Act is passed, Terrence’s life takes a turn for the worse overnight. Under the new law, a mere look, a simple touch, or a small kiss in public could mean death. Terrence attempts to hide his orientation to survive. That is until a gang attacks him in a bar and Chase Martinez interferes.

Chase is gorgeous, kind-hearted, and he’s a rebel in the Underground—all qualities that attract Terrence so much there is no stopping the fall. Loving Chase might be dangerous, but Terrence is done living in fear and letting others dictate what is right for him.

πŸ“˜πŸ‘¬πŸ“˜πŸ‘­πŸ“˜The author pledges to donate 100% of sales revenue from Terrence: A Short Story to The Ally CoalitionπŸ“˜πŸ‘¬πŸ“˜πŸ‘­πŸ“˜

He moved fast and pushed me hard against the wall, with one hand flat against my chest. Then he swept the area with one quick glance before he pressed his lips against mine, harsh and demanding. I should have pushed him back, but I'd been craving his touch since he'd walked up my front steps. And his mouth against mine felt way too good. Death be damned if it meant having Chase's warm body flush against mine like this.

His lips melted over mine, warm though wet from the rain, while his tongue softly parted my mouth. No one had ever kissed me the way he did, like he was worshiping me. He raised his hand to my jaw and wrapped his fingers gently around my neck. I was turning into a puddle at his feet, and he didn't stop until I forced myself to push him back. I regained my senses, and reality slapped me in the face. Chase had put us both in a dangerous position, and I couldn't let him do that again.

"We can't kiss in broad daylight like that."

"Don't let them kill my mood," he said with a lopsided grin, and it took all I had to walk past him and make my way under his arm. He grabbed my wrist, but I shook him away.

"I'm not gonna put your life in danger, Chase. Let's just go buy that present for Tina."

"You coming to my place afterward?" he asked.

The hint of hope in his voice took me aback. I nodded, and a genuine smile flashed on his face. He pulled me to him again before I could react, and he wrapped his arms tightly around my waist. A devilish glint shone in his blue eyes before he whispered dirty words in my ear. The flush on my face rose fast, and I couldn't quiet the tiny squeal escaping my throat.

Chase laughed against me. "Eres tan lindo cuando te pones colorodo, Querido."

"What does that mean?"

He winked but never answered my question.

Author Bio:
Alice Rachel is the author of the YA Forbidden Romance/ Dystopian Romance Series "Under Ground."

Her time is divided between teaching French, writing, reading, drawing, and spending time with her hubby and guinea pigs.

Alice loves talking to readers, so send her a message...


Terrence #.8

Under Ground #1

Standing Ground #2

Brought to you by: 

Cover Reveal: Taken by Elena M Reyes & N Isabelle Blanco

Title: Taken
Authors: Elena M Reyes & N Isabelle Blanco
Series: Voyeur #1
Genre: Dark Erotic Romance
Expected Release Date: May 24, 2017
Cover Design: Coquette Graphics

πŸ’„πŸ’²πŸ“˜πŸ’²πŸ’„Currently 99centsπŸ’„πŸ’²πŸ“˜πŸ’²πŸ’„
I was drugged.
Now, I've woken up in a dark, luscious room.
A deviant playground.

I'm not alone.
The person that was drugged and taken with me is here, too.
My confidant.
Someone that I had come to see as a brother.

My best friend.
Suddenly, there's a voice coming through the speakers, telling us we've both been chosen to die.
The only way out? Do everything we're told to do.
This person wants to watch us. They want to be entertained. As she says, "I want to see you come."

It's simple: either we f*ck, or die.

Sweat beads at my brow as the breath whooshes out of me.  I’m bent over, arms dangling down. Beneath me, the most delicious, hardest length I’ve ever felt presses into my mound. I want to rock against it.

I can’t move.

He won’t let me.

He keeps me like this, draped over his lap, immobile.

The sound of a strike reverberates throughout the room, but silence remains. No noise. It isn’t allowed.

Moisture drips from my every pore, and yet, I’m focused on this one drop as it gathers at the center of my forehead. Becomes bigger.

Everything’s out of control.


Hyper-awareness consumes my every breath.

I count to ten and it falls to the ground.

A small splat no one will ever hear. And yet, I do. The sound as it hits the floor causes my breathing to stutter and skin to prickle with goose bumps.

“The last ten, love,” Noah whispers, his hand massaging the heated flesh beneath his fingertips. It hurts, but the pain is replaced by a yearning so strong that I whimper in his lap.

Like a bitch in heat I arch and ask for more.

His touch.

His desire.

To make this burning within my veins stop.

With one hand he gathers the hair at my nape and forces my head back. A harsh tug—I’m in his control—forces my eyes to his. Hooded dark blue eyes look at me with concern, but behind their depths I see another emotion burning.


His want mirrors my own. This perversion is awakening something darker from within. It grows—chokes us, because behind it all we were meant to end up like this. My body at his hands. In his control.

Those hungry eyes look at me. Silent communication. Are you okay?

I blink back a please and the asshole smirks. Aware of what I need even as my mind fights the sins I have laid bare to his eyes.

My release is so close. A fresh round of arousal drips from my core and onto his boxers.

I’m positioned over his lap, ass up, and the very tip of his cock is against my hip. He’s hard. Jerks against me when I gyrate against his length.

“Please,” I beg aloud this time and his hold on my hair tightens. The hand kneading my ass cheek spreads me open to look at my depravity. At what his own hands have caused.

That thong, that minuscule piece of fabric, can’t hide what this game is doing to me. The evidence, slick and inviting, is on his lap.

I shift against his cock and he hisses. “Be still!”

A crackle follows his command and we both shiver. Each time it appears, things change, become more.




“Very good my pets, but the audience wants more. Lose the panties, but without her standing up. Be creative, and there will be a reward.”

I exhale shakily. “Do it.”

“Are you sure?” As the word leave his lips, those same fingers that a minute ago exposed me to his eyes, now hold my panties in his grip. He doesn’t wait for a reply.  A tug follows his question, the sound of fabric stretching meets my ears, and I nod.

Another pull and I feel every welt that forms on my skin from the rough treatment. The sole sounds in the room are his harsh breathing and mine. Loud exertion, but at the same time desperate for more.

What else could I say? No. Please don’t?

It would’ve been a bullshit lie and we both know it. The voice commands and we follow. It asks and we accept our fate.

There’s a sick part of me that relishes in this madness. Craves him. My Noah.

We have been dealt our cards; there is no escape. We must accept our fate.

Either we fuck each other, or we die.

Author Bios:
Elena M Reyes
Elena M. Reyes was born and raised in Miami Florida. She is the epitome of a Floridian and if she could live in her beloved flip-flops, she would.

As a small child, she was always intrigued with all forms of art—whether it was dancing to island rhythms, or painting with any medium she could get her hands on. Her first taste of writing came to her during her fifth grade year when her class was prompted to participate in the D. A. R. E. Program and write an essay on what they’d learned.

Her passion for reading over the years has amassed her with hours of pleasure. It wasn't until she stumbled upon fanfiction that her thirst to write overtook her world. She now resides in Central Florida with her husband and son, spending all her down time letting her creativity flow and letting her characters grow.

N Isabelle Blanco
N. Isabelle Blanco is the Amazon Bestselling Author of the Allure Series, the Need Series with K.I. Lynn, and many others. At the age of three, due to an odd fascination with studying her mother’s handwriting, she began to read and write. By the time she’d reached kindergarten, she had an extensive vocabulary and her obsession with words began to bleed into every aspect of her life.

That is, until coffee came a long and took over everything else.

Nowadays, N. spends most of her days surviving the crazy New York rush and arguing with her characters every ten minutes or so, all in the hopes of one day getting them under control.

Elena M Reyes

N Isabelle Blanco

πŸ’„πŸ’²πŸ“˜πŸ’²πŸ’„Currently 99centsπŸ’„πŸ’²πŸ“˜πŸ’²πŸ’„

The Gentleman’s Promise by Frances Fowlkes

Title: The Gentleman's Promise
Author: Frances Fowlkes
Series: The Daughters of Amhurst #3
Genre: Adult Historical Romance
Release Date: April 17, 2017
A social pariah due to her scandalous activities, Lady Sarah Beauchamp yearns for redemption to obtain a husband. The assistance of Society darling Mr. Jonathon Annesley gives her hope of success. However, the more effort he puts into helping her, the more she realizes the only esteem she wishes to earn is that of the handsome Jonathon. However, her reputation would potentially ruin his political aspirations.

Offering a gentleman’s promise to help his sister’s friend regain the favor of the ton should be easy for son of a viscount, Jonathon Annesley. After all, he’s well liked and considered a rising star in Parliament. Until he learns Sarah’s ultimate goal is a husband. No man is good enough and could ever appreciate her for all she is. But she is not for him—his focus rests solely on gaining reforms for society’s weakest members. Yet, a promise made cannot be broken…

"Come now, Sarah. We are well acquainted enough to know when the other is hiding something. Why not confess to your choice of literature? I know this to be a ruse," he said, waving the book on trees. "And your real choice to be hiding behind the pillow. When have I ever criticized your taste in books? I would never do you the dishonor of disparaging your selection. If you're reading a Gothic novel or a…a book of Lord Byron's poems, I will not think less of you."

Her heart swelled. His candor and implicit trust in her was one of the things she loved most about him. That he would not condemn her for her oddities or interests made her love him all the more. She was attracted to him physically, yes, but his heart and kindness affixed him permanently on her heart.

Did he harbor similar affections for her? Ones that went beyond their friendship and into the realm of…of love?

"I-I-I" she stuttered, unable to speak through the barrier of her emotions.

He leaned toward her, further incapacitating her. She could hardly breathe through it all, his nearness numbing her brain and inhibiting all functions. He experienced no such diversions and easily plucked the book out from its hiding spot.

"What are you reading today?" he asked, as he perused the cover. "A bit of Yeats?" His eyes widened as he opened the book to the chapter on graphically detailed pleasure positions.

She was going to die of abject humiliation. She was certain of it. Mortification would kill her. Now.

"This isn’t Yeats," he whispered. His gaze lifted from the pages and bored into hers. "How much of this have you read?"

She glanced down at her hands, which she clasped together. "All of it. This is not my first reading."

He let out a breath. "Does anyone else…know?"

"That I read ancient Indian texts?" she asked, still avoiding his gaze. "You are the first to discover my unusual reading selections."

"Sarah…" He touched his fingers to her ankle, wrapping them around her and squeezing. "Look at me."

"So you can lecture me on my indecent behavior?"

"So I can ask if you have any questions." His hand remained on her ankle, warming her skin through her stocking.

Her gaze lifted. "You are not disappointed in me?"

A low chuckled rumbled in his chest. "On the contrary. I’m very interested in your thoughts on the subject."

"And were I to share them?" she asked. "Would you think less of me?"


Author Bio:
After viewing her all-time favorite love story, "Anne of Green Gables", at the impressionable age of ten, Frances Fowlkes has been obsessed with affable boy-next door heroes, red-heads, and romance stories with lots of "highfaluting mumbo jumbo" written within their pages. It only seems natural then that she married the boy who used to pull on her curls in her high school English class, had not one, but THREE red-headed boys, and penned multiple love stories with bits of flowery prose.

When not writing, Frances loves spending time with her family, fangirling, and planning her next vacation.

Frances Fowlkes, originally a northern mid-westerner, now lives in the southeast with her ardent hero of a husband, three playful and rambunctious boys, and one spoiled standard poodle.

A self-professed Anglophile and summa cum laude graduate of LeTourneau University, Frances Fowlkes combines her passion for happily-ever-afters with her interests in both American and English histories.


The Gentleman's Promise #3


Brought to you by: