Saturday, March 17, 2018

Running to You by: Andrew Grey w/ Creative Post & Giveaway

Title: Running to You   
Author: Andrew Grey
Series: Standalone (Currently)  
Genre:  M/M Contemporary Romance
Publisher: Dreamspinner Press
Release Date: Mar 13 2018
Edition/Formats Available In: eBook & Print
Home, love, and possibilities he never imagined are waiting for Billy Joe to claim them. But first he needs to escape the horrors of his past.
 A twisted act of cruelty and prejudice drives Billy Joe from his Mississippi home, and he makes it as far as Pennsylvania—where his car breaks down just as the year’s first snowstorm blows in. Fortunately, Carlos is there to lend a hand.
Carlos is no stranger to hardship. His family rejected him for being gay, but with determination, he put himself through school and became a librarian. Carlos sees the same willpower in Billy, and he wants to help Billy and his son succeed in a new life that is very different from the one they left behind. With his support, they start to adjust, and before long, both men want more than encouragement from each other. They want the chance for a future together, but their families have other ideas… and Billy’s will stop at nothing to get what they want.

Carlos Miras pulled to a stop behind the black Escape by the side of the highway. His father would probably tell him he was a fool, and his mother would probably say he had a good heart—too good a heart. But neither of their opinions mattered anymore. He was no longer part of their family. Carlos looked out his front window, wipers swishing back and forth to ward off the snow. He saw hints of light coming from inside the car, most likely from a cell phone.

He got out, pulling his coat closed around him. Hazard lights blinked red against the snow. Carlos tapped on the window of the back door because he thought he saw movement. “Are you all right?” he shouted.
The back door opened to a man leaning over the back seat to a small child still in his car seat, covered in a blanket. “The car died, and I was trying to get him warm.” The man turned and pulled back, eyes widening. Carlos had trouble placing the expression. “We’ll be fine as soon as I call for help.”
“Pop the hood. Let me take a look at it.” Carlos had spent numerous hours working on cars with his father and brothers. Not that he’d been particularly into cars at the time, but he picked things up by osmosis. He went around to the front, and when the hood popped, he pushed it open and used his phone to illuminate the engine.
“It just went dark all of a sudden and everything stopped working,” the man said, pulling himself into the coat after closing the car door.
Carlos bent over the engine and quickly found the problem. “It’s the electrical system.” He reconnected the main circuit to the alternator and stood back up. The hood light came on as though he’d flipped a switch, and Carlos closed the hood. “That ought to do it. I suggest you take it in to have it looked at, but you were pretty lucky.”
The man turned the key and the engine came to life. “Thanks,” he said softly. “I was trying to make Harrisburg to get a hotel and….”
Carlos shook his head. “I don’t think so. The snow isn’t going to stop, and the roads are only going to get worse. I’d say to get a hotel, but with this weather, they have been reporting that almost everything is full.” He sighed. “Let me make a call.” He pulled out his phone and called his landlady, Mrs. Carmichael, and explained the situation. “I know it’s unusual, but he has a little boy with him, and in this weather….”

Friday, March 16, 2018

Ok Danny Boy vol.2 Monster by: Felicia Johnson w/ Guest Post & Giveaway

 Title: Ok Danny Boy: Monster Vol. 2
Author: Felicia Johnson
Series: Ok Danny Boy Trilogy (Book 2) 
Genre:  Young Adult to New Adult...Coming of Age
Publisher: S.P.E. Media, Productions and Publishing
Release January 8, 2018
Edition/Formats Available In: eBook & Print
The spin-off of “HER” is called “OK Danny Boy". This three part book series follows the story of an artistic and mysterious young man who Kristen meets during her stay in Bent Creek Hospital. Daniel proved to be a supportive peer, whom Kristen saw as a positive influence throughout her recovery. However, Daniel had not always been a role model. Daniel is diagnosed with Bi-Polar Disorder, OCD and Juvenile Diabetes. His story follows his journey throughout his healing and learning to cope with life’s transitions, coming of age, living with mental illness as well as a physical illness and the suicide of a close friend. Fans of “HER” will get to see what it was like on the other side of the Adolescent Ward.

Part one: "CHAOS" follows Daniel's life before he goes into Bent Creek Hospital during his mental breakdown.
Part two: "MONSTER" follows Daniel's story while he is in Bent Creek Hospital through his treatment.
Part three: "LOVE" follows Daniel after his treatment in Bent Creek Hospital into his recovery process.

*** This is part of a trilogy. These are the first two books in the OK Danny Boy series. The third book is to be released this summer. However, the OK Danny Boy trilogy is a spin-off of my first novel called “HER”. Daniel is a character from “HER” and OK Danny Boy is his story. It is recommended to read “HER” before the Danny Boy trilogy but it is not necessary. It is important to read Ok Danny Boy volume 1 before you read volume 2. ***

After a couple of days, I got used to the routine at Bent Creek. Wake up, check vital signs, chat for a bit with your group and group leader while waiting for breakfast, and take my insulin, morning goals group with a mix of different counselors along with the doctor leading the goals group, my doctor, Dr. Finch.

          Dr. Finch sat with me in the room after morning goals group. As always, he looked dapper and acted chill. Dr. Finch always seemed to have a cool composure and calm demeanor.

It was easy to talk with him. I mostly stayed on the surface of things with him because when it was time to go deep I couldn't do it. I felt like if I did go down the dark path of what had actually happened and how I truly felt about it all, I would lose the comfort zone I was in and in turn I'd lose my ability to want to talk to Dr. Finch or even be in Bent Creek Hospital. What else was I going to do if I didn't stay here? Go back home where Mom and Pop fight and make me feel crazy? Sit and watch reality fake TV with Mom-Mom and we take our insulin together and stay silent about the other medications that I need to function? There was no way in hell I was going back to that church so that the scary priest man could squeeze my head and the bronze statue of the man with arms wide open would stare at me and watch and let them do those things to me.

          "I want to talk about home, Daniel." Dr. Finch said. "What is home life like for you?"

          I put my feet up in the chair and rested my chin on top of my knees. It made it easier to untie and retie my shoelaces. I don't know where or how I picked up this nervous picking habit. It seems to have started at the beginning of the school year, shortly after I was put on academic probation.

          "Home," I said. "Home. Home. Home." I almost began to sing it as I belted the word out once more.

          Dr. Finch blinked and waited.

          "It's okay. Mom-Mom is great. She is weird like me, but she is different because she is into church stuff. I don't judge her or anything. I wish that she wouldn't judge me. Pop, well, Pop is just Pop. I mean," I chuckled. "He is in and out. He doesn't have a job yet. Mom is working around the clock and she leaves it to me to take Mom-Mom to the doctors. Which, really, I don't know what's going on there because Mom-Mom has been going to the doctor's office a lot lately and it worries me. It could be because of Diabetes. Anyway, she says that she is okay. You see, me, my Pop and Mom-Mom all have Diabetes. We got it when we were kids. I shouldn't have kids because they'll probably have it too. Besides, Theresa would hate that. She wouldn't want to..."

          Dr. Finch's expression changed. He furrowed his eyebrows and cocked his head to the side. He looked thoroughly confused yet concerned.

          "Go on," he encouraged me to speak more.

          I shrugged my shoulders and leaned back in my chair. I said, "I worry about my mother."

          "Tell me more about that, Daniel. Tell me about what worries you."

          Dr. Finch was the first doctor that I ever had that wanted me to talk about it. Still, I felt uncomfortable as I sat in the chair across from him. I picked at my shoelaces and kept my head down. I desperately wanted to smoke. It was out of question to ask for cigarettes.

          Dr. Finch waited for me to answer him, but I had no idea where to start. It was frustrating, trying to find the right words to explain the hows and whys of everything when most of the shit didn't make enough sense to try to explain.

          "It's okay," Dr. Finch said. "I'll ask you in another way. Why did you ask to come to Bent Creek? You could have gone home after you were released from Egleston Hospital."

          "I guess..." I said with a heavy sigh, "I guess it was because I had no other place to go."

          "What do you mean?"

          "I mean that I couldn't go back home after everything that had happened. It was hard for them."       

          "It was hard for whom?"

          "Mom-Mom, my Mom, my Pop and Theresa..."

          "What about you?"

          "What about me?"

          "Since you've been here, you have only talked about everyone else's problems, but what about you?"

          "I don't know," I admitted.

          Dr. Finch didn't look like he was buying it. He shook his head and gestured his hands out to me as he spoke, as if he was pleading with me.

          "Look, Daniel," Dr. Finch said. "I know that it's not easy. Especially when you have been through all of what you've been through in the last week or so. The emotional stress on top of your physical stress from the complications you suffered with Diabetes, it's-"

          I don't know what came over me. I put up my hand to stop Dr. Finch from speaking and I cut him off.

          I said, "Having diabetes isn’t the real challenge. Sure, I have to stick myself with a needle about two times a day. I have complications if I don't watch what I eat and take care of myself physically. Like, I can’t eat what everyone else eats like candy bars and birthday cake. I can live with that. I always have lived with it. It’s the Bi-Polar Disorder that messes me up. One minute I’m fine and as soon as something happens that makes me angry, I lose it. It's like when I last saw Theresa talking to Ryan, I just wanted to kill him." I paused and looked out of the window. Still picking my shoelaces, I tried to calm down. It felt like my emotions wanted to get the best of me. I didn't want to cry. I couldn't cry!

          Dr. Finch remained calm and quiet. He watched and listened to me intently. It was a strange feeling to have someone listen and care about what I had been through the way that Dr. Finch seemed to.

       I continued, "I don’t understand Bi-Polar like I understand Diabetes. Diabetes is simple. It’s genetic. My grandmother has it and my father has it. Maybe Bi-polar is genetic too?" I paused. When Dr. Finch didn't respond I said with a shrug, "I don’t know."

          Dr. Finch nodded his head and remained silent. I expected him to tell me if it was true or not. I wondered if it was genetic. I expected him to hit me with some popular statistic or something. I looked at him and something about his concerned expression made me chuckle. He made me a bit anxious. The next few words out of my mouth seemed to spill out without thought.

          "When I was a kid, I watched my father beat a man into a coma. I didn’t do anything to help the man. I just stood there and watched as my father beat the man’s face into a bloody pile of meat with his bare hands. I didn’t cry. I didn’t scream. I didn’t react at all. I even had a bad dog bite from the guy's German Shepard. I still didn't show any emotions. My dad just spent the last few years in prison for hurting that man. After serving seven years, he came home last week. We never talk about it. My mom tried to talk to me about it one time, but I didn't know what to say. Mom concluded that I was in shock and she didn't press me anymore about it."

          Dr. Finch raised his eyebrows. He opened his mouth as if he was about to say something, but I didn't let him speak. I started to laugh and he shut his mouth. He looked at me questionably and asked, "What's funny about that, Daniel?"

          I continued to laugh as I said; "It's funny to me because now it makes sense."

          "What makes sense?" Dr. Finch asked.

          I answered, "I guess that I’ve been in shock for the past seven years."

Saturday, February 24, 2018

Ok Danny Boy by: Felicia Johnson w/ Interview & Giveaway

Title: Ok Danny Boy: Chaos Vol. 1
Author: Felicia Johnson
Series: Ok Danny Boy Trilogy (Book 1) 
Genre:  Young Adult to New Adult...Coming of Age
Publisher: S.P.E. Media, Productions and Publishing
Release June 18, 2017
Edition/Formats Available In: eBook & Print
The spin-off of “HER” is called “OK Danny Boy". This three part book series follows the story of an artistic and mysterious young man who Kristen meets during her stay in Bent Creek Hospital. Daniel proved to be a supportive peer, whom Kristen saw as a positive influence throughout her recovery. However, Daniel had not always been a role model. Daniel is diagnosed with Bi-Polar Disorder, OCD and Juvenile Diabetes. His story follows his journey throughout his healing and learning to cope with life’s transitions, coming of age, living with mental illness as well as a physical illness and the suicide of a close friend. Fans of “HER” will get to see what it was like on the other side of the Adolescent Ward.

Part one: "CHAOS" follows Daniel's life before he goes into Bent Creek Hospital during his mental breakdown.
Part two: "MONSTER" follows Daniel's story while he is in Bent Creek Hospital through his treatment.

Part three: "LOVE" follows Daniel after his treatment in Bent Creek Hospital into his recovery process.

I didn't realize how long it took to get home from the doctor's office when I took the train and the bus. A trip that should only take about 15 minutes driving in the car with my mom, took about 2 hours on public transit.

          Whenever I rode public transit, I survived those rides by pretending like I was at an art exhibit. I was merely an observing student, there to study.

          People were like artistic creations. Our transportation was the gallery and the energy that we possessed and released were our canvases. We received what was put out into the world. There were many different mediums of art in the gallery. Some people looked like you could assume where they were coming from or where they were going. That would determine the price and value of each art piece.

          Take for example, the people who seemed to stand on the “right wing” of the train. There was a dapper man who stood close by the train doors. He never sat down because he didn’t want to wrinkle his dark gray, dry cleaned and neatly pressed suit. He stood by the exit door and stared into the window, rather than out of the window because he was looking at his own reflection.

          Occasionally, he picked a booger from his nose and flung it away as if it was a foreign object. Then he ran his fingers through his slicked back hard gelled hair and shifted his tie. Satisfied with himself, he smiled and turned away from his reflection in the train window. He was definitely on his way to the office to make another dollar.

          “You've got to put in the time to make an extra dime,” Tom once said to me when he tried to encourage me to get an after school job.

          At the next stop on the train, entered the thirty-something-year-old looking woman. She was dressed in her posh, pink and blue yoga pants and a light gray pull over sweater. She pushed her baby stroller onto the train with a diaper bag on one shoulder and a yoga mat in its own bag, strapped over her other shoulder.

          Surely, she would have sat down if there was enough room or if a kind gentleman would have given up his seat for her. Rather, it seemed that she preferred to stand up in order to get in a pre-stretch before yoga class. She held onto her baby stroller with her left hand, gripping the handle in such a way that you couldn't miss the Tiffany diamond ring on her wedding finger.

          Using the baby stroller for balance, she bent over and stretched her legs. This caused the man in the dark gray suit to sneak a peak at her yoga toned, motherly plumped ass. And of course, like a tease, as soon as the train stopped, she gathered herself and rushed off the train with her baby in the stroller, her yoga mat, the diaper bag and everything else her husband was paying for.

          She didn't want to miss her yoga class. She has to stay healthy and looking fit so that hubby would find her attractive enough to want to make babies numbers 2.5 with her.

          “You've got to work hard to have a happy All-American family and home,” Tom tried to drill into my head after I had vocally resented getting a job.

          “Living the dream,” is what he called it.

          However, on the other side of the train were different types of pieces of work. They were the ones that the man in the business suit and the yoga mom tried to keep their distances.

          The art on the other side of the train is the kind of art that you can't simply buy like the ones on the right side. I found those people to be priceless. Why? Because on the opposite end were beggars, panhandlers, shopping cart women and the homeless. They are the people who live their lives day by day. They work for their survival in a way that others could not buy for them or from them.

          A panhandler dressed in torn brown pants and a mildew smelling navy blue sweater walked by me with his dirty hands stretched out. He asked for some spare change so that he could get something to eat. I reached into my pocket and found 75 cents. I gave it to him. The lady, who sat next to me, reached into her purse and pulled out a sandwich that was wrapped in plastic and gave it to him.

          “Thank you. God bless you,” he said to us with a nod and thankful smile.

          Then the panhandler approached the man in the dark gray suit just as he was turning away from the yoga mom who had just left the train. The train doors closed and the man in the gray suit turned around to see the panhandler standing next to him.

          Mr. Panhandler reached out his hand to Mr. Dark Gray Suit and asked him for his spare change. Mr. Dark Gray Suit quickly turned his head away from Mr. Panhandler. He sniffed up another booger and shook his head without giving Mr. Panhandler another moment of his precious time.

          Graciously, Mr. Panhandler said to Mr. Dark Gray Suit, “Thank you anyway and may God bless you.” Then he lifted his chin and kept on moving, making his way down the aisle to continue his job, panhandling to survive another day.

          This was a perfect example of priceless art and junk art. Mr. Panhandler was priceless art. He worked for his life. He didn't flinch, cry nor bat an eyelash if someone didn't pay him for his begging time. However, if Mr. Dark Gray suit didn't get his pay on time at the office, or even if his check was a dollar or two short, surely he would have a word or two with the payroll department. He may even complain to his co-workers about the unfair treatment he was receiving from the company that he worked for.

          Then there was Yoga Mom. She reminded me of the most junkiest art of them all. Do you think she would give her husband offspring if that Tiffany diamond didn't shine as brightly as her newly sculpted, expensive yoga butt?

          Mr. Dark Gray Suit and Yoga Mom were buyable, imitation art pieces that you could get anywhere. They had their lives, safety nets, nest eggs (whatever the hell that is), and they knew that they would live to see another day as long as they had a home and something to eat. Those things are guaranteed to them because of who they are while standing on the right side of the train. There were plenty like them and they always stayed in print because they lived long, rich and entitled, privileged lives.    

          Mr. Panhandler was a limited edition. He lived day by day. If he couldn't afford to eat nor find good shelter, it would mean life or death for him. There wouldn't be another art piece that was like him. Maybe there would be others like him when he's gone, but it wouldn't be him.

          That was the difference between junk art and priceless art. It was the same difference between those of us who are people and those of us who are human. To be human, it requires you to have a certain level of humanity that comes from within and it's unselfish. Later on in life, I learned that it also requires a good level of mindfulness. I will tell you about that when we get there.

          I only had the level of mindfulness to accept that all of us had different backgrounds, stories and talents. We were all different colors, races, genders, sexes, shapes and sizes. No matter where we came from or where we were going, we all met and meshed aboard the same buses and trains. We were all displayed in the same life gallery.

          I tried to remember some of the faces of the people and humans that I crossed paths with so that I could draw them later, when I returned home. I didn't like drawing while I was on the train because people were too nosy. Usually there was not enough room for privacy.

          A man who called himself “The Ice Cream Man” came aboard the train at Five Points Train Station as we headed north. He didn't have any ice cream to share with any of us on the train. However, he said that he had a special treat for all of us and he instructed us to “hold up and listen”.

          The Ice Cream Man began to rap a song in the style of a capella. He rapped to us bystanders an original song that he claimed to have written. The song was called “Big Booty in the Flesh”. I liked it. It had an upbeat, fun flow to it. The lyrics were encouraging. He rapped about how to appreciate the rear side of a feminine, shapely woman and the song instructed us listeners on how the woman's ass should be treated in an intimate, lovemaking situation.  I could relate to that song!

          When he finished with his song, “The Ice Cream Man” passed out flyers to announce when his debut album was “going to drop” and when and where his next show was going taking place. The album release and his next show were not going to be free nor on public transit. I grabbed a flyer from him. And I remembered his face to draw later when I got home.

          Along my walk home from the train, I asked to bum a cigarette from a nice lady who was smoking and waiting for a taxi just outside of the train station. She said that her name was Julie. Julie was a hairdresser and she said that she was running late for work. She had a client at 6pm and was afraid that she wouldn't get there on time if she took the bus. Therefore, she opted for a taxi that seemed to be taking just as long as the bus would have taken to get her to work on time.

          She said that she liked my curly hair.

          “Your hair is crazy!” She commented. “You ever let anyone braid it back for you so that you don't have it all over the place like this?”

          I shook my head and smirked.

          Then Julie asked if she could touch my hair. I let her touch it as soon as she asked. I had to insure that she'd give me a cigarette. Nonetheless, I had to wait for the cigarette until she finished running her hands through my hair, petting me, and getting her hands into the thick of my curls to make sure that her fingers could go all of the way through it without a tangle. It was awkward, but I let her have her way because I desperately wanted a cigarette.

          She asked me weird questions like, “Are you mixed?” and “Are you Hispanic?”

          I laughed when people asked me dumb questions about my background. I seemed to be like a puzzle to them. I remember my art teacher once called me, “racially ambiguous” in front of the whole class. It made me laugh.

          The kind woman stopped rubbing my hair and reached into her purse. She pulled out her business card, a lighter and a carton of cigarettes. She handed me her business card first and said, “Call me if you want to get your hair braided or twisted. I think it would look nice in twists.”

          Julie gave me her lighter and a cigarette from her carton of American Spirits. Yuck! I thought to myself. Ah well, beggars can't be choosy. I took the cigarette and lighter. Then I thanked her.

          “So, what are you?” She asked as I lit the cigarette with her lighter.

          I handed the lighter back to Julie and chuckled. I took a long drag of the cigarette and held in the smoke as I turned away from her and began walking in the direction towards my house.

          “I'm human. Thank you! God bless you,” I said as a cloud of smoke released from my mouth.

          I heard her let out a great belly laugh as I walked away.

Friday, February 23, 2018

Smoldering Flame by: Andrew Grey w/ Creative Post & Giveaway

Title: Smoldering Flame   
Author: Andrew Grey
Series: Rekindled Flame Series Book 3  
Genre:  M/M Contemporary Romance, Firefighter
Publisher: Dreamspinner Press
Release Date: Feb 13 2018
Edition/Formats Available In: eBook & Print
Sometimes the strongest flames take the longest to ignite.
Firefighter Dean’s life revolves around his very ill son, Sammy. Caring for Sammy and working to make ends meet leave Dean time for little else, and romance isn’t something he can even consider—no matter how much he longs for someone special to join their family. Because money is tight, Dean couldn’t be more grateful to the photographer who does Sammy’s session free of charge.

After growing up in the foster care system, Marco knows how to rely on himself, and his hard work is about to pay off—he’s poised on the cusp of fame and success he could only have imagined as a lonely child. When Dean brings Sammy into Marco’s studio, Marco can see they’re struggling, and both the boy and his father stir Marco’s heart. The slow burn between the two men isn’t something either expected, but neither wants to lose the possibility of a loving future. With Dean’s dangerous and possibly life-threatening career and Marco’s demanding one, can romance and forever find a place to fit?

Marco was about to explain that he had no appointments and that the stunning man should call to make one, but the words died on his lips as he turned to the little boy. He was probably five years old, drawn-looking, bald-headed, and had a tube to his nose. Marco followed it to a small tank in a wheeled cart on the sidewalk. He motioned them in, stepping back to stay out the way as the little boy pulled the tank cart inside, with the father following behind, looking more and more worried by the second.
This was one sick little boy. His eyes didn’t hold any of the joy or spark children had, and his skin was as pale as any Marco had ever seen. He was thin and small, and he shuffled his feet like he barely had the energy to walk.
“I’m Dean Harlow, and this is Sammy. He was at Hershey Med last week, and in the pediatric ward, they have pictures of children they’ve helped. One of them is a little girl hugging a huge stuffed Dalmatian. It’s all he’s talked about for days. I saw your studio mark, found your website, and I know you don’t take walk-ins, but Sammy would love to see the Dalmatian and maybe play with it for a few seconds.” Dean put his arm around Sammy’s shoulders, gently gathering him closer.
He didn’t fidget the way most kids did. Instead, Sammy leaned on his father like he was resting. It tugged at Marco’s heart.
“As you’ve guessed, I’m Marco. Why don’t the two of you sit down right there, and I’ll get set up. Give me just a few minutes, okay?” Marco waited until they took seats before going into the back. He turned on the lights and took out the large stuffed animal. He’d gotten it years ago when FAO Schwartz went out of business. He put the Dalmatian in the studio area, then set up the camera and lighting before returning to the lobby.
Sammy sat on his dad’s lap, resting against his chest, his eyes closed, probably asleep.

Sunday, January 21, 2018

Buried Passions by: Andrew Grey w/ Giveaway

Title: Buried Passions
Author: Andrew Grey
Series: Currently a Standalone
Genre:  M/M Contemporary Romance
Publisher: Dreamspinner Press
Release Date: Jan 9 2018
Edition/Formats Available In: eBook & Print
When Broadway actor Jonah receives word that his uncle has passed away and named him the heir to a property in Carlisle, Pennsylvania, Jonah’s plan is to settle the estate as quickly as possible and return to his life in New York City. Much to Jonah’s surprise, the inheritance includes the Ashford Cemetery—and its hunky groundskeeper, recent Bosnian immigrant Luka Pavelka.

Jonah soon discovers Luka is more than easy on the eyes. He sees into Jonah’s heart like no man ever before, and his job at the cemetery is all he has. If Jonah sells, Luka is left with nothing. Luka is there for Jonah when Jonah needs someone most, and there’s no denying the chemistry and connection between them. But Jonah has a successful career back in New York. Now he must decide if it’s still the life he wants….

“Charles Laughtner,” a man answered.
“This is Jonah Hughes. I received a letter about an inheritance from my uncle, Samuel James. I wasn’t very sure what time I should call and—”
“It’s no problem at all. I’m glad you received the information,” he said, sounding genuine. “As I said in the letter, you are his primary beneficiary.”
“Why me, Mr. Laughtner?” I asked. “I haven’t seen my uncle in ten years or so, and I don’t know why he would leave everything to me. There have to be people he loved and who were a part of his life.” It was totally confusing for me, and to tell the truth, I hoped Uncle Samuel had had people in his life he was close to. I hated the thought of him spending his life alone.
“Call me Charles, please, and I have a letter that your uncle wrote you, as well as a list of items included in the estate, which include his home and car and money. Over the past few years, I worked with your uncle to simplify his estate as much as possible. I’d like for you to come to Carlisle so we can speak in person. Is that possible?”
“I suppose I could rent a car.” I was still overwhelmed and thinking out loud, I guess.
“You’re in New York, right? Just take the train to Harrisburg, and I can arrange to pick you up. Once you’re here, you’ll be able to drive your uncle’s car.” He paused, and papers shuffled in the background. “What sort of work do you do?”
“I’m an actor on Broadway, but I can come tomorrow. The show I was in is closing tonight anyway.” I was at loose ends, so what did it matter if I made a trip to Pennsylvania to check out my inheritance? I could see what it was, make some decisions, sell what I needed to, and come back to New York. Charles said there was some money, so at least I wouldn’t be out anything.
“Very good, then. Call me when you know which train you’ll be on, and I’ll come to meet you at the station. You can plan to stay in your uncle’s house. It’s quite nice.”
“How did he die? Did he have a lot of friends? Was he alone?” I had a ton of questions, and some of them tumbled out.
“Samuel died of a heart attack. His body was immediately cremated, and all arrangements have been made for his memorial service, which is on Monday. As for friends, he was a popular man in town and will be deeply missed by a lot of people,” Charles explained, sounding defensive. “Are you surprised?”
“I’m pleased.” It was a relief to know Uncle Samuel was cared for. “I’ll call you as soon as I make the train arrangements.” I only had the one show to do and then I was free to leave town. “It will probably be later this morning.”
We ended the call, and Chet groaned as he sat up on the sofa.

With the New Year Just Beginning!
What Book Conferences are you planning to attend? When? and Where?  

I have a pretty full 2018!!!!!
In March I will be at the Leipzig Book Fair in Germany.  
In April I will attend the Los Angles Times Book Fair 
In May I will be having fun at Romantic Times in Reno.
June I will attend Euro Pride Con in Amsterdam.  

Beyond that, things are a little up in the air.  But I am hoping to attend GRL in October and I have some smaller signings and events throughout the year.  

Happy 2018!!!!!

Andrew grew up in western Michigan with a father who loved to tell stories and a mother who loved to read them. Since then he has lived throughout the country and traveled throughout the world. He has a master’s degree from the University of Wisconsin-Milwaukee and works in information systems for a large corporation.
Andrew’s hobbies include collecting antiques, gardening, and leaving his dirty dishes anywhere but in the sink (particularly when writing)  He considers himself blessed with an accepting family, fantastic friends, and the world’s most supportive and loving partner. Andrew currently lives in beautiful, historic Carlisle, Pennsylvania.

Facebook Group All the Way with Andrew Grey
Twitter @andrewgreybooks

Saturday, December 16, 2017

Fire and Flint by: Andrew Grey w/ Creative Post & Giveaway

Title: Fire and Flint
Author: Andrew Grey
Series: Carlisle Deputies #1
Genre:  M/M Contemporary Romance
Publisher: Dreamspinner Press
Release Date: Dec 8 2017
Edition/Formats Available In: eBook & Print
Jordan Erichsohn suspects something is rotten about his boss, Judge Crawford. Unfortunately he has nowhere to turn and doubts anyone will believe his claims—least of all the handsome deputy, Pierre Ravelle, who has been assigned to protect the judge receiving the threatening letters. The judge has a long reach, and if he finds out Jordan’s turned on him, he might impede Jordan adopting his son, Jeremiah.
When Jordan can no longer stay silent, he gathers his courage and tells Pierre what he knows. To his surprise and relief, Pierre believes him, and Jordan finds an ally… and maybe more. Pierre vows to do what it takes to protect Jordan and Jeremiah and see justice done. He’s willing to fight for the man he’s growing to love and the family he’s starting to think of as his own. But Crawford is a powerful and dangerous enemy, and he’s not above ripping apart everything Jordan and Pierre are trying to build in order to save himself….

Will their fledgling romance dissipate like fog in the sun before it has a chance to burn bright?

“Not particularly. Your main task is to let me continue to do my job and to ensure I remain safe. I have private security arranged for my home and commute.”
Pierre nodded, and the judge gave him the information for the firm so Pierre could coordinate with them. He needed to try to find the source of the letters—which was going to be a difficult task, given how very little there was to go on—and to make sure Judge Crawford had the extra security he seemed to think he needed. The building itself was already secured, with all visitors and employees passing through metal detectors and all their bags X-rayed so nothing dangerous got inside. But if someone was intent on causing harm, they didn’t necessarily need a weapon.
“Please work with Jordan. He can give you any information and support you might need.” Judge Crawford turned to the clock on his desk. “I have to be in court in ten minutes.” Any additional information was going to have to come from Jordan, as Judge Crawford’s expression hardened and he turned to his computer. Pierre knew he was dismissed. He left the judge’s chambers and closed the door behind him.
“He’s a peach, isn’t he?” Jordan said in the same tone that he might use to ask about the weather. The judge’s behavior was just a part of Jordan’s everyday work, it seemed.
“Intense” was about the nicest thing Pierre could come up with.
“Judge Crawford isn’t a morning person, and he always needs some time to get ready for court.” Jordan stood and filled a mug from the coffeepot in the corner. He then carried it into the judge’s chambers and returned with an empty mug. “Sometimes I swear he mainlines the stuff.” Jordan rinsed the mug and took his seat once again. “I need to make sure he has everything he requires for his day, and then I can go over anything you want.” He hurried into the office, and Pierre watched him go with pointed interest.
Pierre sat back down. He reminded himself that he was working and had to keep his mind on the task at hand, not let it wander to the delicious paralegal who seemed to check all the boxes for the type of man he preferred: lanky, with great eyes, and a backside that bobbed perfectly with each step and made him feel disappointed when Jordan closed the door behind him.

Friday, December 8, 2017

Blood's Song by: Tempeste O'Riley w/ Creative Post & (2) Giveaways

Title: Blood’s Song
Author: Tempeste O’Riley
Series: House Millar books, #1
Genre: LGBTQ Romance, Paranormal Romance, Vampires, Urban Fantasy, Young Adult / New Adult
Publisher: Encompass Ink, Teen
Release Date: Nov, 24th, 2017
Edition/Formats Available In: eBook & Print
Even in darkness, love lights the way.
Anya awakens alone and afraid in a new world soaked with blood and terror. The only things she knows for certain are her name and that humans are precious.
Unwilling to give in to her hungers, she sets her feet upon a path of discovery, searching for clues to her forgotten past. Along the way she runs headlong into the unimaginable world of the undead and the waiting arms of Nicholas, a fearless nocturnal defender searching for his love, lost in eternity.
Into their midst stumbles Declán, a young, natural born vampire hunter and Guardian whose passion for Anya is only matched by his draw to Nicholas. His arrival could mark the end of their tale, or with the gift of Anya's blood kiss, it might bring about the beginning of a new chapter for them all.

Fate has a wicked sense of sensibility…

“What did you tell him?” I could feel myself losing control of my voice, but I couldn’t seem to rein it back. “Please!” As Nicholas began, I could see the effect of my panicked voice in his features and bearing.
“I talked to him about you a little. But yes, you’re right to worry. He is very aware you are not normal. However, he hasn’t figured out what that difference is. That’s not really what concerns me the most, though.”
“What are you more worried about?”
“Well, I believe his feelings go much deeper for you than curiosity or even attraction. What I can’t figure out is how he could be so beyond already.”
I opened my mouth to speak, but nothing came out. I tried again though my thoughts were so jumbled, finding the right words was difficult.
“What do you mean deeper and beyond?”
“I’m not entirely sure yet, my dear. But, we’re going to have to find a way for you to be near him or you’re going to have to leave. I fear you will drive him mad otherwise.”
Mad? “I don’t understand, Nicholas. What do you mean ‘drive him mad’?”
Nicholas paused. “Declán’s fascination and infatuation are not likely to diminish, especially if he’s actively around you. And, well, he’s attracted to you physically and emotionally. Do you honestly think the fact he can’t touch you won’t cause him problems? Then there’s the fact he knows you are not being honest with him. He can’t help how he feels about you any more than you seem to be able. I’ve never seen anything like it, well, except....” He looked away a moment and seemed almost embarrassed. That couldn’t be right, though. Could it?
“I am so lost here. You are the only person I can talk to about this, but it is not fair to you either. You already said this is hard for you to watch.”
“Anya, what is difficult to watch is you fearing yourself. To see the doubt and pain this situation is causing you. As to what to do, though, I’m not sure how to help.
“If you choose to move forward with this relationship with Declán, you are going to have to reveal at least some of what you are. I got a good sense of him when we spoke after you left and you’re both hurting from this issue. He has a good heart that, if you aren’t careful, will belong to you.”
“He cannot even hold my hand, how can this do anything, but cause pain?” Pain for both of them.
“Maybe there’s a simple solution we aren’t thinking of, yet. Of course, I’m still trying to figure out why Declán reacted to me the same way. I wonder....” A strange flash flickered in his eyes, and he seemed almost obsessed for a moment. “No, that would be too dangerous.” He was mumbling to himself now. “But I wonder.”