Full Moon Fever

Full Moon Fever – Barnes and Noble

Full Moon Fever – eXtasy Books

Full Moon Fever – Kobo

Full Moon Fever – Google Play

Thank you very much for hosting me here today. My name is Elizabeth Black, and I’d like to introduce you to my GLBT paranormal shifter romance, Full Moon Fever. Enjoy!

BLURB:

William Shakespeare said All the world’s a stage, but he hadn’t counted on shifters under a theater’s hot lights. Lovers Sam Hightower and Grant Newsome live for the stage. Although they have enjoyed the wanderlust of traveling theater for many years, each has grown tired of the road and wants to settle down. They also have a secret. As shifters and no part of any pack, they are lone wolves in every sense of the word. The full moon brings out the beast in them. 

Even though their work as gaffers—lighting techs—puts them in contact with a large variety of willing, sexy men and women to share their love, they prefer men. They find a dancer, Luke Pearce, who makes their blood run hot, but Luke has a secret of his own to test them. Add scenic artists and lovers Charlotte and Lina to the mix, and you have a wild and sexy fivesome.

To spoil their fun and to their surprise, Sam and Grant discover another shifter in their midst, but this young person is so inexperienced and terrified she could expose them to the human hunters and get them killed. How can Sam and Grant protect themselves as well as the people they love?

EXCERPT

After many decades, Grant had grown weary of running and hiding, and that evening drove his melancholia home harder than ever.

There he sat with Sam in the Portland forest, part human and part wolf, smoking and drinking, waiting for their meal to appear. Grant sat in front of Sam while Sam rubbed his shoulders.

So much had changed over time. Now, he relied on his iPhone to keep track of moon phases. Before his trip to Freiberg, he hadn’t even noticed the moon in the sky at all. No matter where he lived or toured, he had taken to hiding out in the nearest forest on those couple of nights each month when the blood lust took over his mind and body. No one was safe when he transformed, and he did what he could to avoid harming people. A deer or stray dog quenched his blood lust while he hid from the world in the safety of the deepest area of the forest, waiting until the full moon decayed the five percent he needed to be out of trouble. He only transformed at night, and his gallon jug of monkshood rye alleviated his symptoms somewhat, but in the end, he knew he was a danger and needed to hide, not only to avoid killing people but to keep away from the local authorities.

He crouched on the forest floor, swatting the black flies that bit through his thick fur. He wished there were some way of reversing the curse thrust upon him. He wanted nothing more than to sit at home with Sam, drink some beer, and watch a porn flick while making love to Sam again. He cursed his bad timing and rotten luck. He could say “if only” until the tides reversed. Nothing would change the fact that he would go feral every full moon. While he accepted his fate, he did not like it at all. Each full moon he fell into a rage that often came with thoughts of suicide, but when he thought of Sam and his sweet nature and even sweeter body, he realized he had reason to stay alive.

Sam sat next to him, smoking a cigarette, and Grant handed him the jug. Why did Sam seem to take to the change better than he? Or did he really take to it better? What if Sam only pretended so that Grant wouldn’t feel so bad? Misery loved company, but Sam, being a good-natured sort, didn’t wallow in sorrow. He considered the moonlit change a monthly inconvenience, much like some women considered their menstrual cycles. An irritant. If only Grant felt the same way.

Sam gulped as he drank, making slurping noises that grated in Grant’s ears. Sometimes Grant considered the potion the only control he had over his life.

“I feel miserable. I hate the full moon,” Grant said. “Sometimes I just want to curl up and die.”

“It will last only another day or two and then things will be back to normal.”

“What kind of normal is this kind of life?” Grant let his chin rest on his chest as Sam rubbed the kinks out of his shoulders. “My entire body hurts. The monkshood rye helps, but I’m as sore as I know I’ll be every month.”

“I know what you mean. We need something strong for the pain, like morphine, but I don’t know where to get it.”

“I’d rather have cyanide.”

“Don’t talk like that. We can get through this.” 

Grant groaned in ecstasy as Sam’s fingers rubbed down his spine. Even though his entire body ached and he wanted to do nothing more than sleep for the next two days, his cock reacted to Sam’s amorous touch, growing larger and becoming sensitive to the slightest touch.

“Hey, I found a great movie for us to watch,” Sam said. “The Brotherhood of the Wolf. I figured it was the perfect movie for our time of the month.”

“Never heard of it.”

Sam turned to Grant and gave him a look Grant was all too familiar with. It was the you’ve got to be shitting me look, since Sam enjoyed relishing in the ways of the world much more than Grant.

You can’t be serious. What kind of werewolf are you when you’ve never heard of The Brotherhood of the Wolf?

“I just don’t get into those kinds of movies. I like action movies. You know that.”

“Tell you what. I’ll bring it home in a day or two, and we’ll watch it. It’s really good, and it won’t gross you out.” He grinned. “It’s French, too.”

“That means it has subtitles. I hate reading subtitles. No thanks, I’ll pass.”

“How about An American Werewolf in London?”

“I told you, no werewolf movies. I’d rather watch Lock, Stock, and Two Smoking Barrels again.”

“How about The Transporter Two? I hear it’s so bad it’s good. What about that one?”

Grant shuffled on the ground, picked up the jug of monkshood rye, and gulped some down. Pointedly ignoring Sam, he gazed into the forest, hoping something big and tasty would come out soon. Maybe a deer if they got lucky. He was famished, and he wanted to eat rather than waste time and energy talking about movies he didn’t like.

“C’mon, what do you say? It’s got Jason Statham in it. You like him.”

“Okay, that sounds good. Just no werewolf movies, please. What got into you to watch werewolf movies when the moon is full? That’s like watching Rosemary’s Baby when you’re pregnant.”

“I like to have fun with it, rather than mope about like you. You wallow in it. My first werewolf, and you turn out to be overly sensitive.”

“Oh, knock it off.” His sensitive ears picked up rustling in the brush several yards ahead. “Now shush. I hear food in the bushes. Shh.”

A ‘possum emerged from the brush, oblivious to the danger that lurked only a few yards away. Grant had not tasted ‘possum in several months, and he welcomed the change. He needed to eat meat when he shifted, but he didn’t want to call attention to himself by eating his neighbor’s pets or any animals that would be missed. That left the usual gopher, raccoon, or rat if they missed getting anything in the woods.

What I would do for some fresh venison, though.

He eyed up the unsuspecting creature’s flesh, salivating so much he could almost taste its meat, red and bloody, raw and metallic. Inching in, ever so slowly, so as to not so much as break a twig, he crept towards the ‘possum, and when he was ready to pounce, he heard a loud ka-boom from behind.

The ‘possum shrieked and fled into the forest. Birds flew from the trees. Furious, Grant turned on his heels and growled at Sam.

“Dammit, Sam, you sneezed, and that ‘possum got away from me.”

“I couldn’t help it. Allergies. I took Claritin early evening before we changed, but I guess I need a prescription.”

“Ya think? If you sneeze again and drive away a perfectly good meal, I might have to disembowel you myself.”

“C’mon, I said I was sorry. Lie back and I’ll make it up to you.”

Grant stretched out on the grass, arms behind his head and legs extended, waiting for Sam’s gentle touch. When Sam’s hand stroked his chest, his heart skipped a couple of beats. Even Sam’s slightest touch aroused him. His cock jumped a little, in anticipation of what he knew was coming.

The sex will take my mind off my hunger. There’s nothing as distracting as a good blow job, especially from Sam.

Grant relished Sam’s exquisite blow jobs, and he knew Sam would not disappoint him.

I need him, need his touch on me, anything to take my mind off this burning need for flesh.

Sam’s lips brushed Grant’s shoulder, then traveled down his chest to rest near his groin. Closing his eyes to fully enjoy Sam’s kiss, he waited for those soft lips to reach his cock.

Brushing against his head in tight, slow circles, Sam’s lips wrapped around Grant’s cock, and in response Grant dug his fingers into the earth. With a gentle movement, those lips and mouth stroked his shaft, making it jump in Sam’s mouth.

No other man ever had this kind of effect on me. I can’t resist the mere touch of him against me.

Sam’s tongue, slick and warm, flicked in circles around Grant’s shaft. His erection grew harder as Sam’s tongue moved faster around him. Sam alternated between stroking Grant’s shaft with his tongue, then sucking hard on his head, all the while rolling his balls in his hand.

Moaning with pleasure, Grant tensed as Sam took all of him deep into his mouth, sucking and licking, driving him wild. Grabbing Sam’s head in his hands, he pushed him harder against his cock, taking in his entire length. The approaching orgasm made his heart race, but the sounds of motors interrupted his passion. Grant opened his eyes in time to see a shooting star skitter below the full moon.

AUTHOR BIO

Elizabeth Black writes erotica, erotic romance, speculative fiction, fantasy, dark fiction, and horror. Her erotic fiction has been published by Xcite Books (U. K.), House Of Erotica (U. K.), Circlet Press, eXtasy Books, Ravenous Romance, Riverdale Avenue Books, Scarlet Magazine (U. K.), and other publishers. She also enjoys writing retellings of classic fairy tales, including her two self-published fairy tales “Trouble In Thigh High Boots” (Puss In Boots) and “Climbing Her Tower” (Rapunzel). An accomplished essayist, she was the sex columnist for the pop culture e-zine nuts4chic (U. K.). Her articles about sex, erotica, and relationships have appeared in Good Vibrations Magazine, Alternet, CarnalNation, the Ms. Magazine Blog, Novelspot, The Erotic Readers and Writers Association Blog, Sexis Magazine, On The Issues, Sexy Mama Magazine, and Circlet blog. 

SOCIAL MEDIA LINKS

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Never a Bride

I am so happy to be here to chat with you about the latest release in the At the Shore series, NEVER A BRIDE.  I had so much fun writing this story about Emma, a wedding planner who doesn’t believe in happily-ever-after, and Carlo, her best friend and kind-of-business partner.

I have to confess that from the moment that Carlo stepped onto the page I fell in love with him.  I knew he was the perfect match for Emma. Carlo is patient, kind, hard-working, and totally sexy.

Carlo is Emma’s best friend and the caterer she depends on to help her plan perfect weddings and events for others.  Emma loves spending time with Carlo and with his large and loving Portuguese family.  You might be wondering why this hero’s name is Carlo and not Carlos and the reason is that his mom had a thing for Italian names when she decided to name Carlo and his two younger brothers, Paolo and Tomas. Speaking of younger brothers, I can’t wait to write a spin-off to the series featuring younger bad boy Paolo and Army Ranger Tomas. You’ll get to meet them as well in NEVER A BRIDE!

Emma is a tough nut about romance, but like I said before, Carlo is patient and kind. I loved Carlo’s determination, but I also loved how he came to understand Emma’s fears and proved to her that he is the kind of man who will be by her side no matter what.

I hope you will come to love Carlo as much as I did (and as much as Emma did)!

 

Prologue

The bouquet shot toward her head like a spaceship launched at the moon.

Emma Grant had no time to deflect the missile. She tangled her fingers into the luscious petals of the peonies, roses, and hydrangea, rousing fragrant floral scents as the bouquet grazed her face. When she was in wedding planner mode, she would have taken the time to appreciate the freshness of the blooms, but tonight she was also a bridesmaid and best friend and totally unhappy about her current predicament.

Flowers fisted in her hand, Emma whirled to face her other best friend and maid of honor, Connie Reyes, who with a subtle hip check, had knocked Emma straight into the path of the flying tussie mussie. “I thought you were my friend!”

“Totally,” Connie said with a broad smile and waltzed off to the side of the dance floor to where Carlo Gonzalez, her caterer extraordinaire and longtime man crush, stood with some of his wait staff.

Her friends thought Carlo was the man to give Emma her happily-ever-after, except it wasn’t possible that someone like Carlo could love someone like her. She was broken inside and had been for some time while Carlo was everything good in this world. A loving son and a supportive brother. A go-to-guy for her and so many others. But a lover? Even though her insides ignited at the thought of making love with the incredibly handsome Carlo, Emma knew it could only lead to misery on way too many levels.

He was her business partner of sorts and she valued how well they worked together. They had even talked about forming an event planning business more than once so Emma could have her own company and Carlo could expand his. Not to mention that he was her best friend and she couldn’t imagine not having him in her life, but she was certain that was what would happen if they tried to go from friends to lovers and it didn’t work out.

But Emma’s fears weren’t keeping Connie from trying to drag Carlo into the center of the dance floor for the next part of the wedding ritual. He protested at first and as all eyes settled on him as he balked, embarrassment engulfed her. His hesitation confirmed to Emma that changing the nature of their relationship was not necessarily something he wanted to do either.

Others soon joined in to offer Connie assistance and Carlo finally relented, although clearly reluctant. The handsome caterer stood with the other single men, and as the groom prepared his garter toss, Emma closed her eyes and mumbled a prayer beneath her breath.

“Dear Lord, please be good to me,” she said and half-opened her eyes to watch.

Apparently God wasn’t listening since the garter flew across the air, and like a horseshoe tossed at a ring, the circle of baby blue satin ribbon and beige lace landed on Carlo’s index finger, earning hoots and shouts from all gathered at the perfect catch.

Emma groaned and popped her eyes wide open as Carlo stood there, dangling the garter for all to see. A stain of color marred his cheeks as he peeked at her with a chagrined smile.

The heat of a blush erupted all across her face and up to her ears. She half glanced at Connie who had returned to stand by her and Emma said, “I will kill you for this. When you least suspect it, it will happen.”

Connie couldn’t stifle her chuckle, and when the groom’s brother and best man Jonathan Pierce strolled to her friend’s side, Connie high-fived Jonathan for his assistance with the plot. Connie murmured something to him that Emma couldn’t quite hear as the band launched into a sexy riff to continue the wedding tradition. Carlo sauntered over, garter dangling from his finger as someone placed a chair for her to sit on in the middle of the makeshift dance floor.

“The quicker you get it over with, the easier it will be,” Emma thought, hurried out, and unceremoniously plopped onto the chair. It was like taking off a bandage with a quick rip. It cut the pain much like she wanted to lessen the humiliation of Carlo being forced into this wedding tradition.

The sexy music continued as Carlo kneeled before her and mouthed “Don’t worry.” In deference to the fancy event being held at the Sinclair beachfront mansion, he was dressed in a tuxedo. The black of the tux emphasized the deep brown of his thick wavy hair. The electric white shirt was the perfect foil against olive skin that still bore the remnants of a summer tan. He smiled at her, his teeth toothpaste bright and perfect. The smile was brilliant and transformed the chiseled features of his face. Made his chocolate brown eyes gleam with a mix of amusement and awkwardness.

It was way too easy to picture him as the groom. Her groom, but that was an impossible wish. As his gaze locked with hers, she detected something different for a moment. Something dangerous that she tried to convince herself wasn’t there. There was no way that was there, she told herself.

She silently pleaded with him not to make the situation worse. Ever the gentleman, he heeded her plea and kept it clean as she looked up toward the inky night sky to avoid watching him. His touch was deferential while he slipped the lacy fabric past her shoe and ankle, but even the faintest whisper of his rough palm against her skin had her trembling inside and heat racing across her body. He moved the garter up a little higher to her calf and paused, forcing Emma to look at him to find out the reason for his delay.

Carlo grinned sexily and the fire at her core ignited into a five-alarm blaze. He was just so damn handsome and it was impossible not to imagine doing more with him. He inched the garter past her knee, his palm teasing her smooth skin, but stopped there despite the entreaties of the single men to go ever higher. He wagged his head, shook his finger in a no-way gesture, and tenderly draped Emma’s gown back over her legs.

Emma met his gaze once more, thankful, but this time it was impossible to miss that his look was filled with yearning. With that emotion, she had maybe hoped for and dreaded at the same time. And then Carlo did something totally unexpected and decidedly risky. He wrapped an arm around her waist, urged her to her feet, and slowly drew her close.

Her knees trembled and her heart pounded so loudly, she barely heard the music and cheers from those who’d maybe had a little too much to drink during the festivities. Carlo steadied her, keeping his arm around her waist as he cradled her jaw. Slowly he leaned toward her and tilted her face up with the gentlest pressure.

She could have backed away. Could have stopped him, but truthfully she didn’t want him to stop. She inched up on her tiptoes to meet his lips.

Never a Bride 

At the Shore Book 3 

by Caridad Pinero

Genre: Contemporary Romance 

Emma never dreamed that the happily-ever-after would change her life. . .

But as her two best friends find love, Emma worries about what her future will bring. She has seen all too often what happens once husbands and children arrive. She puts on a brave face because she wants her buddies to be happy, but as a wedding planner, she has seen one too many marriages go south. Not to mention her parents’ bitter divorce which has soured her on the idea of marriage for herself. She can’t imagine ever finding a man who can bring her a forever kind of romance.

He’s been in love with her forever and can’t understand why she can’t see it. . .

Carlo da Costa knows why Emma avoids relationships and yet he can’t help but wonder how someone who puts such love and care into others’ dreams can’t allow herself to believe in the fairy tale. He sees the yearning on her face when she spends time with him and his big boisterous family and knows that deep inside, she wants the same thing. Carlo hopes that one day he can provide her with that because he’s sure Emma holds the key to his heart in her hands. 

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Buy Links

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Scribd: https://www.scribd.com/book/437777098/Never-a-Bride-At-the-Shore-3 

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NY Times and USA Today Bestseller Caridad Pineiro is a Jersey Girl who just wants to write, travel, and spend more time with family and friends. Caridad is the author of over 50 novels/novellas and has sold over 1 million books worldwide. Caridad loves romance novels, super heroes, TV and cooking. For more information on Caridad, please visit www.caridad.com or www.rebornvampirenovels.com. You can also find Caridad/Charity at the links below:

Website/Blog * Website/Blog * Facebook * Twitter * Instagram * Bookbub * Amazon * Goodreads * Newsletter 

Author Links

Website/Blog: https://www.caridad.com/ 

Website/Blog: http://www.rebornvampirenovels.com/

Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/Caridad.Author

Twitter: https://twitter.com/caridadpineiro

Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/caridadpineiro 

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Amazon: https://www.amazon.com/Caridad-Pineiro/e/B002BMBGB2

Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/2944621.Caridad_Pi_eiro

Newsletter: http://freshfiction.com/newsletters/caridad/sign-up-caridad.html

SWAG, $25 Gift Card, and print copies of first 2 books in the series 

Follow the tour HERE for special content and a giveaway!

https://www.silverdaggertours.com/sdsxx-tours/never-a-bride-book-tour-and-giveaway

Project X – Cheryl Headford

Featured

 

Blurb

Morgan Bentley is a bastard. Matthew knows this absolutely—until he doesn’t.

Matthew and his friend Cory are thrilled to attend one of the most prestigious universities in the UK. On their pre-entry visit, they met Morgan Bentley and his stuck-up friends. Matthew takes an instant dislike to the arrogant, conceited, self-obsessed, beautiful, intelligent, and charismatic boy. Throughout the next year, Matthew harbours his dislike, never missing the opportunity to complain to his best friend, Cory, what a bastard Morgan is.

Then, an unexpected turn of events catapults Matthew, Morgan, and Cory into a nightmare, and all the things Cory had said about Matthew’s true feelings about Morgan come crashing down on his head, and he realizes that what he thought was hatred and anger was, in fact, growing attraction and begrudging admiration. But when the deadly nature of the elusive Project X is revealed, it seems their budding romance is doomed before it begins, as one of them is unlikely to survive.

 

Excerpt:

Morgan Bentley was a bastard. An utter, complete, A-one, cut-glass bastard. He was arrogant, selfish, cold, standoffish, cruel, and completely heartless. His history was peppered with broken hearts and broken people attesting to the fact. There was no doubt about it—he was a bastard.

Morgan didn’t have any friends. What he had was an entourage: people who cared less for the person he was than for the prestige his company brought. At the moment he had a girlfriend, the undoubted Alpha Female of the university, a bitch called Charlotte Lethbridge, whose father owned half of Mayfair. The relationship wouldn’t last, though. They never did. And next week it could just as easily be a boyfriend.

No one ever said no to Morgan. No one outside his circle of “friends” ever said anything at all unless he invited them to, which he rarely ever did.

Cory often said Morgan was sad—he had to be. He had to be lonely and sad because he had no real friends, no lasting relationships, no one to share with. Not like us. Sometimes I had to stop myself laughing when he said that. Morgan Bentley sad? Not bloody likely. He had everything. I mean everything.

His father was a research chemist, heading a huge multinational corporation. They manufactured drugs and engaged in research projects, sometimes for the government. I think that’s why Cory was so fascinated with Morgan. He was getting a degree in biochemistry and wanted to be a researcher himself. Cory was awesome…but he had flaws, and his fascination with Morgan was one of them. Personally, I wouldn’t care if I never saw his smug face ever again. Hell, I’d have been so much happier if I hadn’t.

Project X – eXtasy Books

Cheryl was born into a poor mining family in the South Wales Valleys. Until she was 16, the toilet was at the bottom of the garden and the bath hung on the wall. Her refrigerator was a stone slab in the pantry and there was a black lead fireplace in the kitchen. They look lovely in a museum but aren’t so much fun to clean.

Cheryl has always been a storyteller. As a child, she’d make up stories for her family and they’d explore the imaginary worlds she created in play.

Later in life, Cheryl became the storyteller for a re enactment group who travelled widely, giving a taste of life in the Iron Age. As well as having an opportunity to run around hitting people with a sword, she had an opportunity to tell stories of all kinds, sometimes of her own making, to all kinds of people. The criticism was sometimes harsh, especially from the children, but the reward enormous.

It was here she began to appreciate the power of stories and the primal need to hear them. In ancient times, the wandering bard was the only source of news, and the storyteller was the heart of the village, keeping the lore and the magic alive. Although much of the magic has been lost, the stories still provide a link to the part of us that still wants to believe that it’s still there, somewhere.

In present times, Cheryl lives in a terraced house in the valleys with her son, dog, bearded dragon and cats. Her daughter has deserted her for the big city, but they’re still close. She’s never been happier since she was made redundant and is able to devote herself entirely to her twin loves of writing and art, with a healthy smattering of magic and mayhem.

For a different perspective on how Morgan felt about that initial meeting you might like to read the Prequel. This gives away spoilers if you haven’t read the book, but is a nice, currently free,  introduction to the boys and how their different perspectives work.

Project X – Prequel