Follow your heart, but don't leave your brain behind.

Thursday, August 17, 2017

Author: K.C. Wells
Title: Out of the Shadows
Cover Design: Bree Archer
Length: 62,991 words
Publisher: Dreamspinner Press
Release Date: 15 August 2017
Blurb
Can he step out of the shadows and into love’s light?
Eight years ago, Christian Hernandez moved to Jamaica Plain in southern Boston, took refuge in his apartment, and cut himself off from the outside world. And that’s how he’d like it to stay.
Josh Wendell has heard his coworkers gossip about the occupant of apartment #1. No one sees the mystery man, and Josh loves a mystery. So when he is hired to refurbish the apartment’s kitchen and bathrooms, Josh is eager to discover the truth behind the rumors.
When he comes face-to-face with Christian, Josh understands why Christian hides from prying eyes. As the two men bond, Josh sees past his exterior to the man within, and he likes what he sees. But can Christian find the courage to emerge from the darkness of his lonely existence for the man who has claimed his heart?
Excerpt
MONDAY

CHRISTIAN HERNANDEZ stared at the letter, his gut clenching. One look at its contents was all it had taken to send him spiraling down into a fit of panic.

He’d known it was coming, of course. He’d seen the posts on the Jamaica Plain Neighborhood Development Corporation website, all about how the housing association was putting together a list of their properties that were in dire need of renovation. He knew his building had to be on the list. They’d taken it over in the late nineties, along with several other properties along Minden Street, and nothing had been done to the buildings since then.

And here it was in black and white. His apartment was on the list for the first wave of refurbishments, which included the replacement of all the kitchen cabinets and countertops, plus the kitchen flooring. After that came the bathrooms, with new fixtures and tiles. The work would take two to three weeks.

Next Monday. They’re sending someone to start on it next Monday. What the hell do I do?

It wasn’t as if he had anywhere else to go, so that left one option: hiding in his room while whoever came to invade his apartment worked in the kitchen. And the bathrooms. Hell. That meant the bathroom next to his bedroom.

Looks like I’m going to be locking my bedroom door. The prospect of being holed up in his room for a couple of weeks made his heart sink.

Christian put down the letter on the kitchen table and walked into his living room, where patio doors opened up to the communal gardens that lay across the back of the buildings.

I need something to cheer me up, to take my mind off all this crap. And he knew just what would do the trick. He peeked through the blinds, knowing exactly what—or should that be, who?—he’d see.

Sure enough, there was his favorite handyman. Not that Christian knew the guy’s name. He only watched him every time the slim man with defined arms worked out there, mowing the lawns, repairing or repainting the fences, or digging up new flower beds and planting shrubs and trees in them. Christian estimated him to be in his midtwenties, and yeah, he was definitely Christian’s type. He loved it when the weather grew warm enough that Handyman would roll down his overalls to his waist, strip off his T-shirt, and expose all that tanned skin, with a light dusting of freckles across his shoulders.

Now, if the guy they send to work on my apartment is anything like him….

Christian knew the thought to be bullshit. There was no way he’d make any kind of contact with whomever the association sent. He’d just stay in his room, working there until the nightmare was all over.

It’s a couple of weeks—three, tops. I can manage. He figured if he kept telling himself that, somehow he’d talk it into existence. Yeah. I can stay out of their way.

Just so long as whoever turned up wasn’t a snooper.

MONDAY

JOSH WENDELL straightened and stretched, his back aching a little from lugging the large shrubs from the truck into the gardens. They were going to be really pretty when the rhododendrons flowered. He always liked working on the Minden Street houses. It was a peaceful little corner south of Mission Hill, just west of Jamaica Plain, and the communal gardens were his pride and joy.

Occasionally there’d be a couple of guys working with him, and they got along fine. Even if they told some fanciful stories. Like the one about the guy in the first-floor apartment at #197—the guy they said no one ever saw. Josh had scoffed at that immediately: If no one ever saw him, how’d they know he was even a him? Besides, if he listened to them, the guy in #197, apartment #1, was the bogeyman, a hermit who lured little kids into his lair, only to eat them and bury their bones under the patio outside his window.

Yeah, right.

Anyway, his days of working in the gardens had come to an end for a while. He’d received his instructions for the next few months: the association wanted him to use his skills in other pursuits, namely tearing out and replacing kitchen cabinets, laying down new tile floors, and replacing baths, sinks, and tiles. Josh was looking forward to it, even if it was going to be a royal pain in the ass working indoors at the height of summer. He just prayed the apartments had functional AC.

He glanced over at the apartment where the mystery guy lived. Not that Josh had ever seen him. All he saw were the vertical blinds that covered the patio doors, an effective barrier against revealing anything of the apartment’s interior—or its occupant.

Wonder what he’s really like?

Then he grinned to himself. Hey, what if I get to work on his place? The guys would be all over me, wanting to know what the inside of the apartment looks like. The way they described it, he expected to see something right out of The Texas Chainsaw Massacre. That was, of course, if he worked on that particular apartment.
BUY LINKS
Author Bio 
Born and raised in the north-west of England, K.C. WELLS always loved writing. Words were important. Full stop. However, when childhood gave way to adulthood, the writing ceased, as life got in the way. K.C. discovered erotic fiction in 2009, when the purchase of a ménage storyline led to the startling discovery that reading about men in love was damn hot. In 2012, arriving at a really low point in life led to the desperate need to do something creative. An even bigger discovery waited in the wings—writing about men in love was even hotter….
K.C. now writes full-time and is loving every minute of her new career. The laptop still has no idea of what hit it… it only knows that it wants a rest, please. And it now has to get used to the idea that where K.C goes, it goes. 
And as for those men in love that she writes about? The list of stories just waiting to be written is getting longer… and longer…. 

K.C. loves to hear from readers. 
E-mail: k.c.wells@btinternet.com 
Twitter: @K_C_Wells 
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Wednesday, August 16, 2017

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Author: Beth Bolden
Title: Taste on My Tongue
Release Date: August 15th 2017
Genre: MM Contemporary Romance
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BLURB
Almost pop-star Landon Patton has just turned a corner on the worst two years of his life: dropped by his label and dumped by his ungrateful ex-boyfriend. However, his new agent's brilliant plan for Landon's superstardom doesn’t have anything to do with his music – it’s called Kitchen Wars, and it’s the hottest new reality show on TV.
Landon wishes he could have nothing to do with it.
Since the first morning he mixed flour and water, Quentin Maxwell knew he wanted to be a baker. After becoming the pastry chef at a popular LA bakery, anyone else might be satisfied. But Quen wants to call his own shots. Going on Kitchen Wars to win the money for his own bakery seems like a huge risk, but maybe it's worth it.
They’re an unlikely pair. Landon can’t even figure out how to turn an oven on, while Quentin makes his living with one. But with each passing week on Kitchen Wars, they discover what a great team they make – on set, off set, and between the sheets.
Winning should be everything, but what happens when the tastiest pairing is their own?
Find Taste on My Tongue on Goodreads
EXCERPT
“Pick up the knife,” Quentin continues before Landon can interject and probably get them off on another long tangent that has everything to do with flirting and almost nothing with knife skills.

Landon could argue. But for once, he doesn’t. He picks up the knife. It’s what Quentin called a “chef’s knife,” earlier—a medium-ish size with a delicately and wickedly sharp curved blade.

Quentin moves behind him. Close behind him. Every molecule of Landon’s body perks up in interest.

“You’re gripping it way too tightly,” Quentin says quietly, air tickling the hairs that brush Landon’s neck. “Relax.”

Landon wants to tell him that it’s a little hard to relax when Quentin’s practically humping him against the prep counter. He might have yesterday, in a teasing lilting voice—but today, he keeps quiet and tries to do what Quentin says.

“Now, the carrot,” Quentin directs. “One inch slices. Go as slowly as you need to. Remember the rocking motion.”

Landon does remember the rocking motion. They’d practiced it without even chopping anything. But when there’s an actual physical vegetable under his blade, the feel is totally different and he can’t get it right.

“Slowly, slowly,” Quentin says firmly but gently. When Landon still doesn’t go slowly enough for him, he reaches his arms around Landon, neatly caging him in.

Breath stutters out of Landon’s lungs. He’s barely composed enough as it is, but Quentin invading his personal bubble like it doesn’t even exist is both the best and the worst thing that’s ever happened to him.

“Slowly,” Quentin repeats, and the words churn sluggishly through Landon’s brain. It’s on Quentin overload right now. The way he feels all around Landon, his muscular arms and torso boxing him in, making Landon feel a bit smothered, but in all the best ways—protected and worshipped and beloved and wanted so damn much. The intoxicating smell of Quentin. Lemons and coconuts and a tiny hint of mint and rosemary. Landon wants to flip their bodies and push him back against the counter and eat him whole.

Quentin causes the strangest reaction in Landon. His heart is beating so quick, it practically flutters like a hummingbird in his chest, but Quentin’s also so warm that he relaxes Landon right down. It’s the oddest combination, but Landon wouldn’t trade it for anything. He never wants Quentin to move.

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EXCERPT
When Landon walks into the studio for his first day of cooking bootcamp and sees his chef, he has to instantly revise every expectation. The man in front of him is all long lines, lean legs, and this sculpted torso that literally nobody that cooks for a living should have, all topped off by a wild curly mane that Landon’s fingers itch to touch, wide blue eyes, and a pair of lips that send his mind straight to the gutter.

It turns out there is most definitely a man out there that will interest Landon in learning to cook.

The topper is when Landon saunters over, eyes flicking over those long legs in tight jeans and the little glimpses of tattoos he sees through his mostly transparent white t-shirt, the man actually blushes.

“Landon Patton,” Landon says, extending a hand. “Unfortunately, it’s gonna be your miserable job to teach me to cook.”

The man flushes even pinker as he takes Landon’s hand. “Um, Quentin. Quentin Maxwell.”

For one rather breathless moment, they stare at each other, Quentin’s hand clasping Landon’s, his palm warm and soft and slightly damp with nerves, and Landon feels his heart start to beat faster. He feels almost breathless with the possibilities, and it’s hard to deny that Quentin looks equally blown away.

Quentin reluctantly releases his hand. “I’m a huge fan,” he adds. “Really, you should have won your season. Can’t believe you only got third place.”

Landon can definitely believe it. Third place was far better than he ever thought he’d end up. But you can say all you want about Landon—and many, many people have—he’s driven to succeed even when the cards are stacked against him.


So Landon just shrugs and leans back, all carelessly but purposefully arranged curves as he tries to figure out if the way Quentin’s fluttering his eyelashes at him means he’s actually interested in flirting or if this is just Quentin’s natural state of being.
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Purchase: 
Amazon US | Amazon UK
About the Author
Beth profile pic
Beth Bolden lives in Portland, Oregon with her supportive husband and their beloved cat. She wholly believes in Keeping Portland Weird, but wishes she didn't have to make the yearly pilgrimage up to Seattle to watch her Boston Red Sox play baseball. She's a fan of fandoms, and spends too much of her free time on tumblr.
Beth has been writing practically since she learned the alphabet. Unfortunately, her first foray into novel writing, titled Big Bear with Sparkly Earrings, wasn't a bestseller, but hope springs eternal. She's published two novels, The Lucky Charm and Getting Lucky, and a short story, Eye of the Storm. Her next novel, Summer Attractions, will be released in August 2016.
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