New release #MMromance news from guest author @HarperJewel1 and @LoveUnleashed Read a #teaser #PNR

AVAILABLE NOW

FROM HARPER JEWEL & LOOSE Id

Title: Ripping Off the Mask

Author: Harper Jewel

Publisher: Loose Id

ISBN: 978-1-68252-442-8

Publication Date: November 21, 2017

Genre: Gay Paranormal Suspense Romance

Heat Level (1-5): 4

Thirteen years after high schooler Cooper Brandt suffered a life-altering tragedy, Newark Police Sergeant Cooper Brandt suffers yet another earthshaking misfortune while on duty. As a result, he lets the mask he donned because of his first grief-filled setback slip. When overwhelming guilt consumes him for a second time, an unexpected, and oftentimes unwanted, helping hand tries to force him into making a choice: face his demons and rip the mask off, or continue living a lie while his facade stays put.

Upon his move to New Jersey, aqua therapist Dr. Westley James meets his toughest patient yet when a snarly police sergeant accuses him of duplicity at the start of their first session. When he discovers the reason for Cooper’s ornery attitude, an odd, empty feeling he’s lived with for as long as he can remember begins to fill in like missing pieces of a puzzle.

As a fragile relationship between Cooper and Westley grows, an unhinged sociopath threatens to ruin everything. Will fate force the emotionally bruised sergeant to fasten his mask on even more tightly or will the couple’s blooming love and partnership be strong enough to help Cooper rip his mask off for good?

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Read an excerpt

They made their first stop at Dunkin’, and as promised, Silvio ran inside while Coop remained in the police vehicle. A few minutes later, with coffees in hand, he returned to the squad car and handed Cooper his iced coffee—black, no milk, no sugar.

“Thanks, Sil. Did you get your regular?”

“Sure did. Why wouldn’t I?”

“Oh, I don’t know. Because you might surprise me and forgo the coffee-milk you favor and go with something different for a change.”

Silvio stared blankly at his partner. “Coffee-milk?”

“Come on, you can’t possibly call what you have in your hand coffee. You tell the baristas to give you a medium but put it in a large cup and then ask them to add at least a full cup of milk to it. Seriously, man, how hot can it be after that? And why would you want to drink something even remotely warm when it’s already close to eighty degrees outside?”

“I don’t like my coffee too hot, but I don’t like it iced either. Besides, haven’t you heard that milk does a body good?” Silvio shrugged and gave his partner a smug, tooth-baring grin.

Coop burst into laughter. “You’re such a dork.”

“At the risk of sounding too dorky, suck it up, buttercup. You’re stuck with me. So you keep your end of the bargain and drive since I did the buying.”

About Harper

Harper Jewel lives in northeast New Jersey with her husband and college-age daughter. She has two cats, enjoys reading, and taking trips to Walt Disney World. With her outgoing personality and vivid imagination, she can create characters and plots that are believable as well as memorable.

Although she began writing male/female romance/erotica, she has finally found her niche in Gay Romance. She thoroughly enjoys her male characters as they speak to her quite loudly while proving love is love. She is proud to have the honor of being the first M/M author accepted at the now-closed Lush Publishing.

In addition to her writing, she’s expanded her skills to include formatting for Smashwords Premium Catalog, Barnes & Noble, Kobo, & Amazon.

In September 2015, she created Slippery Fingers Press & Publishing Services. She uses the company name for self-publishing as well as her formatting jobs.

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Will their unexpected attraction to each other survive the dangers threatening to destroy them? New #MMromance #SciFi from @JJLore1 and @LoveUnleashed

Playboy Tellan knows other races consider his people spoiled and arrogant, but he’s determined to put aside fine sheets and elegant meals in order to search for a mythical Domidian elixir for his ailing sister. He’s also smart enough to realize he’ll need help staying alive in the unsettled wastes of the Empty Quadrant. Enter Jorant, an intimidating Atavaq who’s been genetically modified to be the perfect soldier. On the run from his past, Jorant accepts the task of protecting Tellan as they venture to a planet populated by tentacled monsters and space pirates. As they search for the potion, Jorant realizes his Domidian client isn’t as helpless as he’d assumed, and Tellan is intrigued every time the taciturn bodyguard speaks. Will their unexpected attraction to each other survive the dangers threatening to destroy them?

Buy links:

http://www.loose-id.com/the-essent-quest.html

http://www.amazon.com/Essent-Quest-J-J-Lore-ebook/dp/B01BUCEOSA

Enjoy a behind the scenes exclusive from The Essent Quest

Jorant and Tellan’s Truth or Dare

By J. J. Lore

A clean bed, a full belly, and a securely locked door. Not to mention a warm, naked man sprawled next to him. Jorant sighed and luxuriated in the comforts. He and Tellan had survived numerous perils and were now on a ship, heading for Domid, planet of sophisticated amusements and great wealth. What would happen once they arrived, he didn’t know, but as a warrior he knew how to enjoy his down time and not go looking for trouble.

Tellan stirred and sent a firm arm scooting across Jorant’s abdomen. His Domidian partner was very tactile, something Jorant wasn’t used to in bed mates. Before it had always been pleasure, sleep, then on to a mission.

“Tell me you napped, at least.” Tellan pressed his face to Jorant’s arm and rolled closer. “You don’t need to be alert constantly anymore.”

“I did sleep.” The admission cost him nothing, and gained him a kiss on his shoulder.

“Of course you did. You needed to recover your strength after the vulgar demands I put upon you.” Tellan peered at him with a smug expression on his fine features. Jorant pressed his lips together so as not to smile back as some recently awakened part of his heart urged.

“I am strong.” Thinking of all the meanings underlying the word, Jorant sucked in a breath as his cock swelled under the light sheet covering him. “I’m ready.”

Tellan’s eyebrows lifted. Light from the dimmed illuminators above the bed highlighted the defined muscles of his chest and arm. Jorant wanted to touch again, wanted to feel Tellan’s body strain and shake against his own. “That sounds promising, but I’m not sure if I’m fully recovered.”

A gentle way to say he wasn’t ready for more sex. Jorant appreciated Tellan’s polite ways, much more so than the gruff demands or rejections he’d had from others in the past. “We can rest.”

Tellan sat up abruptly and Jorant suppressed his instinct to scan the room for a threat. They were safe here, safe for the first time in many days. “Let’s do something fun. We’ve been under so much pressure, it would be nice to relax.”

Sex and sleep were all the relaxation Jorant had ever needed. “What fun?”

“Admit or act.” Tellan’s face lit up like he’d said the most clever thing

“How is it enjoyable to list the crimes we’ve committed?” Domidians had strange notions, Jorant was learning, but this was taking matters to an extreme. He’d always had a reason for the things he’d done, but he didn’t want to shock Tellan with some of the more violent episodes.

With a chuckle, Tellan shook his head and scooted even closer to Jorant. He let his fingers drop to Jorant’s chest and move lightly, almost as if he didn’t realize what he was doing.

“Not crimes, nothing serious. This is a child’s game. You decide if you’ll tell me the truth when I ask you a question, and if you decline, you must accept a dare from me.”

What an odd way to be entertained. “I’ve always told you the truth.”

With a sigh, Tellan leaned down and brushed his lips against Jorant’s cheek. His cock stirred again.

“I know that. This isn’t a test or a way for me to trip you up. Just amusement.” Tellan’s voice was soft and low in Jorant’s ear, further enhancing his overwhelming sense of well-beining. He was glad Tellan was so near, so he could catch his musky scent.

“Then go ahead. Dare me to do something.”

Tellan laughed. “You would choose that. I already know you’re brave. I’d rather learn something new about you. You are so mysterious.”

With a frown, Jorant considered this. He’d always considered himself a simple man, all his traits obvious to even a casual observer. Not interesting. But Tellan leaned against him, studying him as if he was simply fascinating. “Fine. Ask a question. You won’t be entertained.”

Tellan licked his lips and narrowed his eyes. “Have you ever been in love?”

Jorant had been prepared to list how many men he’d killed, or how many lovers he’d had, so Tellan’s question confused him. “What do you mean?”

Tellan leaned over him and prodded his shoulder. “You know what I mean. Love. Finding someone who you’re willing to sacrifice for, wanting to share with, not be separated from.”

“You mean like a personal contract?” Jorant had heard of such things among Creig warriors. Men would find like-minded fellows and bunk together, aim for shared postings. Of course, if the Masters decided to separate them, there was nothing the men could do about it but leave each other. A little pang of sadness intruded in Jorant’s mind as he considered how difficult that must have been.

“More emotional than that, I think,” Tellan rested his hand on Jorant’s chest. He could probably feel Jorant’s heart beating at an increased rate. “Have you ever been thrilled to be near someone you just signed a contract with? Thought about them constantly?”

Jorant shook his head against the soft pillow underneath it. He’d never paid much attention to how he felt about anything, other than whatever might motivate him in a fight or find the will to continue a painful training session. He’d always assumed his genetic modifications had dulled such impulses. “No, I’ve never experienced that. Have you?”

“Is that the question you want me to answer? I was hoping you’d dare me.”

 JJ decided not to include this scene in the book 

About the author:

J. J. Lore has been interested in the dashing men who roam outer space since she was transfixed by Han Solo piloting the Millennium Falcon a long time ago in a theatre far, far away. Sadly, there is no way for her to join in the fun of intergalactic adventures unless she writes them, so that’s what she does whenever she isn’t taking care of the business of life. If you can’t find her typing madly on her sluggish keyboard, she’s probably poking around in a thrift store searching for the perfect pair of worn jeans or a vintage kachina bolo tie. These days she puts her anthropology degree to work when she whips up dishes from many different cultures, most of which benefit from a liberal dose of sriracha or a smear of green curry paste. Her favorite reading topics are costume history, epidemiology, and permaculture, all of which she’d like to work into a story if she’s suddenly overcome with a brilliant idea someday.

Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/pages/J-J-Lore/1393971707546734

Twitter: @JJLore1

Website: www.jjlore.com

Today #MMromance from Meg Amor and @loveunleashed 'Hawaiian Orchid'

From author, Meg Amor and Loose ID

Explosive heat makes sparks fly as two wounded men learn to trust and find a home for their shrapnel-laced souls. 

IN

Hawaiian Orchid

Kulani is “The Orchid,” a young, insecure, pro-surfer who comes from a rough background on the Big Island of Hawai’i. He’s Beau Toyama’s cousin from Hawaiian Lei. But he’s also a healer and has a heart as deep as the ocean he’s part of. Like the great Hawaiians, who have gone before him, warrior Kulani Mahikoa epitomizes the spirit of aloha and love. Kulani’s not only healing his own wounds, but “The Lost Boys”—young, homeless, abandoned and abused gay boys he’s taken under his wing.

Rob Masterson is a wounded psychologist who’s trying to come to terms with his husband Tony’s death. When he died, they were separated but still living together. Can the lone and lonely New Zealand widower reconcile all the pieces of guilt and love, to heal and fall in love again? When he drops anchor in Kona Harbor and meets the exotic islander—young, bolshie Kulani—explosive heat makes sparks fly between them.

Is the age difference between them a barrier or something they’ll get past? Kulani has more layers than Rob ever bargained for. And Rob’s tangled knot of responsibility, grief and guilt with his New Zealand heritage and past life is something he needs to untangle.

Two wounded men have to learn to trust and love one another. Traveling between the South Sea Islands of beautiful New Zealand and the exotic Hawaiian Islands—they forge a sea change, finding a home for their shrapnel laced souls.

Hawaiian Orchid by Meg Amor

Edited by Heather Hollis

Cover Art by Syneca Featherstone

Published by Loose Id, LLC

www.troikaromance.com

Amazon: http://tinyurl.com/pkg5vks

Loose Id: http://tinyurl.com/nuklqoy

All Romance Books ARe: http://tinyurl.com/qfn6245

Kobo: http://tinyurl.com/qaltpgz

Barnes and Noble: http://tinyurl.com/phg6qey

Read an excerpt:

“Are you always this stroppy? Or only on a good day?” 

“What do you mean?” he says, all attitude. 

Jesus Christ, gorgeous he might be, but with the chip on his shoulder the size of a log, it’s more work than I need right now. 

“There’s the door.” I indicate with my head. “See yourself out.” 

“You really want me to go home?” he says despondently. 

I sigh. “Kulani, you’re so damn prickly, it’s like having a cactus shoved up my arse every two seconds.” 

He runs his fingers through his long, curly black hair, sweeping it back with one hand, and digging his other one into his back pocket. I’d love to take him to bed, but this isn’t worth it. Too much attitude, too many issues. If I’m not picking prickles out of my skin, I’ll be treating myself for burns. He’s a lot of work. 

“I’m sorry.” He shrugs. Even that has “fuck you” attitude. I’m past the age where I feel like babysitting someone. 

I walk over and place my hand on his shoulder. “You’re stunning, but I’m too old for you.” 

He drops his head, and I mentally exhale, waiting for the next bite from him. But when he looks up, he has tears in his eyes, and my heart takes a direct hit. 

Bugger. 

“You don’t really like me, do you?” he asks, biting his lip, eyes cast down. 

“You’ve got an abrasive personality. I feel like I’ve been rubbed raw this evening. It’s like being in a boxing match.” 

His shoulders slump, and I have to hold myself back from pulling him into my arms. I don’t need this sort of energy in my life. There’ll be tantrums and fights…hurt feelings over stupid things… 

His hand comes up and rubs mine on his shoulder. He needs the touch, the connection with another human. I recognize that feeling. But this is inviting trouble, even for a quick fuck and one-night stand. I could do with the sex, but not the aftermath of spiky energy. 

His breathing is up and down, as he’s trying to get himself under control. Fighting emotions, no doubt. Bugger it. He’s tugging at my bloody heart for some reason. That’s probably why I blurt out, “Come sail with me tomorrow. We’ll go over to Maui.” 

For a split second, all the aggression falls away, and I get to see the vulnerable kid underneath. I shouldn’t really call him a kid. At twenty-five, he’s an adult, but still half my age. He squeezes my hand, and I take that as a yes. 

“Meet me down at the boat about seven. Bring coffee from Lava Java. I’ll bring everything else.” 

“Can we make it eight?” 

God, he can’t even get his arse out of bed and be there early for an invitation. But I give in, nodding. 

“Okay,” he says, tough-guy stance back in place. Oh to be that young and stupid again. 

Speaking of stupid. What the hell am I doing inviting him out again tomorrow, when all I want to do is throw him out the door? Beautiful, yes, but the attitude leaves a lot to be desired. If I had to take a wild stab in the dark, I’d say he’s sitting on a ton of hurt. Layers and layers of it. He’s so bloody bolshie and oppositional, I’m exhausted from the evening. I like a decent intelligent convo with someone, interplay back and forth. The opportunity to get to know someone more. Flirt a little, or a lot. I’m probably too old-fashioned and been out of the game too long, but I need something different than what he’s after. 

Then he throws his energy, and I get sideswiped again. “Don’t I get a kiss good night?” he says, raw sex appeal oozing from him, and I nearly grab him by his shirt to yank him to me. Now I’m fighting to control my breathing. “Please,” he says so softly I wonder if I’ve heard it right. 

What a mix he is—seething rage, the log on his shoulder bashing me in the head all night. Then he becomes so vulnerable, it’s like someone rubbing balm into my abraded skin. His own version of BDSM, just done in a mental fashion. I amuse myself for a moment, thinking of a safe word I could use. Fun. That would be a good word. It’s the least likely word I can think of for this evening so far. 

No, it’s not my thing. I wrote a paper for uni once and interviewed people in the scene. I probably know enough to be dangerous, but not enough for anything else. 

I look at his eyes, the fragility. He’s asking me to not reject him, but I also see the humiliation at having to ask, to beg. I do my best internal Bogart voice. Buckle in, schweetheart, this could be a rough ride. 

I stroke his face with my free hand, and his lips tremble. No, no, no…straight to my cock. Direct hit. 

Score. 

Shit. 

He comes in toward me, and I let him. His full lips touch mine, and my hand automatically reaches for his waistband, pulling him closer. I slide my arm around his waist and palm his arse, pressing him into my groin. He’s rock hard; his erection rubs mine. He lets out a long, slow groan of desire, and I know I’ll have a hard time sending him home. I fist my hand into his hair, and he nips at my mouth before sliding his tongue between my lips, grinding his cock into me. 

He yanks my tank over my head. His hand cups the back of my neck, and he nuzzles me, moaning softly in my ear. A tug at my earlobe sends sharp spikes of desire into my groin. 

“Fuck me,” he groans. 

I grunt, straining to breathe; spasms of deep need ripple through my body. Oh, screw this. I spin him around and push him over the kitchen bench, pulling his tank over his head and discarding it. Spread before me is an enormous but delicate-looking orchid stem and flower tattoo that covers half his back. In scripted writing, The at the top of the flower, then warrior, strength, and bravery are tucked in around the huge bloom and stem. It moves with his muscles and is surprisingly sexy for a guy. I’ve noticed he has an orchid on his left foot too. I wonder what it means. 

Later. Right now, I want a different type of exotic. I yank his shorts down with his underpants to lightly nip and lick his buttocks. Reaching between his legs, I feel the prize he’s offering. Nice and thick, uncut, already spurting lube, a rock-hard erection, and tight, firm balls. Curly black pubic hair too, which I like. Can’t stand the shaved look. I like my men to be masculine. I’m a huge fan of vintage porn for this reason. They’re not all ripped and buffed. Just regular, fit guys with lovely cocks and decent, thick pubes. 

He spreads his legs, holding his cheeks apart, and I probe his brown pucker with my tongue. With his Hawaiian heritage, his skin’s smooth and he’s brown all over, no tan marks, even on his nicely rounded bum. He’s sensuous and moves in a sexy, fluid way. 

I pump his dick with my hand, and he vibrates with need. It’s a turn-on. 

“Fuck me hard,” he begs me again. 

Jesus… I want him too much. 

I slide up his back, licking his salty skin, enjoying the hard muscles under my tongue that only a waterman has naturally. Not overly done. 

“Stay,” I whisper in his ear. “Back in a minute.” 

Copyright © Meg Amor

http://www.loose-id.com/authors/erotic-romance-authors-l-p.html?cat=865