Tag Archives: MMRomance

Red Dirt Heart by N.R. Walker #Review #Excerpt #Giveaway

Reddirtheart300RED DIRT HEART

By N.R. Walker

BLURB:

Welcome to Sutton Station: One of the world’s largest working farms in the middle of Australia – where if the animals and heat don’t kill you first, your heart just might. Charlie Sutton runs Sutton Station the only way he knows how; the way his father did before him. Determined to keep his head down and his heart in check, Charlie swears the red dirt that surrounds him – isolates him – runs through his veins. American agronomy student Travis Craig arrives at Sutton Station to see how farmers make a living from one of the harshest environments on earth. But it’s not the barren, brutal and totally beautiful landscapes that capture him so completely. It’s the man with the red dirt heart.

EXCERPT:

Just on sundown, I got off the motorbike, kicked the stand down so the bike stood upright without me and closed the gate. I’d been out all day in the South paddocks doing a final check of fences and water trough pumps before we bought the cattle down from the North. I’d seen the ute back at the homestead as I came in so I knew George was home.

George was my leading hand. He was in his fifties, with greying hair and sun-hardened skin. He’d worked here for as long I could remember, but he was more than a loyal employee. He was my friend, and in a lot of ways, more of a dad to me than my own old man ever was.

He’d been out all day, left before sun-up and headed into Alice Springs. We were a good three hours from the nearest town, and with a list as long as his arm from the Station cook, Ma—who also happened to be his wife—he needed a few hours in town before heading out to the airport to pick up the real reason for his trip: an American agronomy student by the name of Travis Craig.

When my father ran this farm, or station as we called it, every year we’d have people from another country come and spend a couple of weeks as part of some Diversification exchange program. My old man always said it was a good way to source out what other countries were teaching, but really I think he just liked the extra pair of hands at the finish of the dry season. And when we’d had a phone call back in July to ask if we’d be interested in hosting another student, and given it’d been a few years, I thought it seemed like a good idea. Now I couldn’t help but wonder if this Travis Craig would be a help or a liability.

I rode the bike into the yard and pulled up in the shed. I figured they’d know I’d arrived, having heard the bike, so I headed straight for the house. Like most homesteads built almost a hundred years ago, it was a weatherboard home, with an old iron roof and a veranda around four sides to try and keep it cool.

I kicked the red dust from my boots on the veranda steps and tried to brush the same from my jeans, took off my hat before I opened the door and walked inside. There was a suitcase and a duffel bag near the front door and voices at the back of the house.

“In the kitchen,” George called out.

I followed the sound of chatter and the smell of something good to find a meeting of sorts in the old country-style kitchen. The worn, solid wooden table that graced the middle of the room was covered with plates of scones and trays of cups and tea, and three people were in chairs around it—my right-hand man, George, his wife the cook, Ma, and a stranger with short light-brown hair and pale blue eyes.

George was the first to his feet, and the man beside him soon followed. “Here’s the boss, Charles Sutton,” George said, introducing me formally. “Charlie, this is Travis Craig.”

Travis looked about twenty-two years old, not much younger than me. Whereas I was a stockier build, with dull brown hair and boring brown eyes, he was taller than me by a few inches and muscular and lean. He held out his hand and smiled. “Mr Sutton. It’s a pleasure to meet you.” His accent was strange to hear at first, but his smile was warm and wide.

I wiped my hand on my shirt and held it out for him to shake. “Travis,” I said with a nod. “Please, call me Charlie.”

Red Dirt Heart Walker

Buy Links:

Amazon: http://www.amazon.com/Red-Dirt-Heart-N-R-Walker-ebook/dp/B00IKGXWYC/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1393216088&sr=8-1&keywords=red+dirt+heart

ARe: https://www.allromanceebooks.com/product-reddirtheart-1429286-145.html

Contact Information:

Website: nrwalker.wordpress.com. Facebook: N.r. Walker (https://www.facebook.com/profile.php?id=100003907957620)

Facebook Fan Page: N.R. Walker Author

Twitter: @NR_Walker Email: nrwalker2103@gmail.com

Tour Badge

About N.R. Walker

Who am I?

Good question…

I am many things: a mother, a wife, a sister, a writer.

I have pretty, pretty boys who live in my head, who don’t let me sleep at night unless I give them life with words.

I like it when they do dirty, dirty things… but I like it even more when they fall in love.

I used to think having people in my head talking to me was weird, until one day I happened across other writers who told me it was normal.

I’ve been writing ever since…

_____________

Who wants to read this book for free?

Do the Rafflecopter thing to be entered in the draw to win a copy of Red Dirt Heart:

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———————

And, finally, my review of Red Dirt Heart. I received this book from Will Parkinson of the new and exciting Pride Promotions, in exchange for a fair and honest review. Actually, when I heard N.R. Walker needed stops for her blog blast thingy today, I was like, “Yeah, I can plug that stuff in over the weekend and have it ready for Monday.” And then Will sends me the book and I’m thinking, “Oh, shit! I didn’t say I could review it by Monday! I’ve got 3 kids home for February break, edits pinging back and forth on Double Takes, out-of-town guests coming on Friday, and then my MIL arriving on Saturday for a week-long visit (this is me biting my tongue). I have to work the daylily booth at the flower show on Saturday! I haven’t put new words on my WIP in nearly a week. No. Can. Do. Dammit. I’ll just open it up and see if it’s short.”

I scanned the first few pages including an adorable little Australian Terms Glossary (BTW, I’m pretty sure scones are an English invention–yes, we Americans have embraced and bastardized those delicious pastries since the first Brit brought ’em over here, but we can’t claim them). I read the Chapter 1 heading: Where the American guy walks in, all blue eyes and disarming smiles, and my life goes to shit. I was as much a goner as Charlie.

A day later I was at 48% when my PDF copy came up blank. So cruel! I headed over to Amazon, cursing a blue streak at the interruption, and clicked myself a new one. I got to 83% while my hubby folded laundry. I’m pretty sure I owe him some snoo-snoo tonight, which shouldn’t be a hardship because the sex in this book is smokin’ hot and prolific, but not to the point where you’re like, “Really? Again?” Nope. You’re like, “Oh, yeah. Cue the Barry White, baby.”

Charlie and Travis are so real and sweet and amazing together. You can’t help but be swept up in their love affair. Normally, I’m not the sort who enjoys those little Chapter one-line teasers. LOVED THEM! They roped me into a reading jag with their brief hints at what was coming. They just kept stringing me along, chapter after chapter.

This book is well-written and edited. A few missing words here and there, but nothing that slows your reading or pisses you off. My biggest problem was trying to get the character’s accents right in my head (yes, I need to do the accents for all dialog). But flipping back and forth between a Texas drawl and an Outback twang was tough!  I paused multiple times to say either, “Now, that’s a knife,” or “Ya’ll come back now, ya hear?” to warm up my accent. It’s particularly challenging when you live in New England and therefore don’t have any accent. 😉

5 shooters

Anyway, I loved this book. It was a solid 5 shooters for me, nearly perfect in every way and highly recommended to lovers of the genre and then some. Read it. You won’t regret it.

-Kimber


#Free #Read The House of #Manlove Valentine’s Day #FlashFiction Hop!

CC license courtesy photopin

Cadillac Time Machine

by K. Vale

Based on characters from the book “Forever is Now” by K. Vale

copyright Kimber Vale

“Just keep ’em closed.” Chance Ralan turned the wheel of the black Cadillac Escalade and pulled into the crowded parking lot. He shot a glance at his husband, Alex, in the front passenger’s seat. The red paisley scarf covering half his face made him look like a bandit with bad aim.

“You tied a bandanna over my eyes, Chan. What could I possibly see?”

“Oh, don’t act like you never cheated at Pin the Tail on the Donkey. Everyone did.” Chance yanked the shift into park and pulled the key out of the ignition. “We’re here!”

“So, I can take this off?”

“Nope. Not yet.” Chance hopped out and jogged around the back of the vehicle. He opened Alex’s door and leaned over to unbuckle the seat belt, placing a quick kiss on his man’s lips as he did.

“Come on.” He took Alex’s hand and led him out of the truck. “Careful with this step.”

“If you were hoping for some kinky Valentine’s shit, you really should have cleared your plan with me, first.” Alex shivered in the frigid February night and Chance wrapped an arm around his back. The frozen pond outside the lit-up building made him wish they could have done this in June for the full effect.

But then it wouldn’t be a Valentine’s Day present.

“You’d be in your birthday suit for kinky shit, babe.” Chance swept a hand under the hem of Alex’s pea coat and grabbed his ass through the perfectly pressed wool of his tux. “Just another minute.” He pushed open the front door and pulled Alex into warmth. He led him through the lobby and finally stopped.

“Now?”

“Now.”

Alex pulled the scarf off and gazed around, his brow scrunched together while he ran fingers through mussed black-brown hair.

“What?” He cocked his head at the huge sign over the entrance to the Crystal Room. It read “Prom 2003: A Night to Remember.”

“I did my homework. That was the theme.” Chan took Alex’s hand and yanked him toward the door like a kid leading a parent into a toy store.

They stepped inside the function room festooned with purple and silver balloons, streamers, and tablecloths. At least a hundred people were there dressed in tuxedos and extravagant gowns. They stood and clapped when Chance and Alex walked in.

“What did you do?” Alex slowly shook his head as he took it all in.

“We missed it. So I made a do-over.”

Glen Palmer waved at them and Alex waved back, still shaking his head. His eyes widened as he scanned the room full of classmates from their senior year.

“We did our own thing, Chan. It was cool.” Alex turned to him, a bewildered smile on his gorgeous face.

Except it wasn’t cool, for so many reasons. Chance didn’t have the balls to admit who he was back then. Sure, they’d hung out secretly that night ten years ago, but just a few weeks afterward Alex’s dad caught them together and Chance had run like a chicken shit.

He spent nine years reliving and regretting, so maybe he’d paid his dues, but he was so excited to give Alex this little piece of their youth finally done right—out and proud.

“Is that Tara Bleaks? And that looks like…Jeremy! Jeremy Castiglione!” Alex scratched the back of his head and waved with his other hand. A general look of amusement was shared by nearly every prom attendee, but they gave Chance and Alex their space.

“Yup!” Chance took their coats and threw them over a vacant chair. “Plus some spouses you’ve never met. I tried to convince people to go with their original prom dates, but most of them didn’t like the idea.”

Alex gave him his wry, raised eyebrow stare. “You’re joking, right?”

“Yeah, rude, huh?”

Alex laughed and rolled his eyes. “You can’t do that to people. If I’d taken Heather Phillips like my mom tried to arrange, I’d be here with her, you dope.”

“Oh, no. That would mess with the time-space continuum.” Chan squeezed Alex’s hand tight. “That’d be like stepping on a prehistoric butterfly and turning the future world into a Lovecraft book. Let’s dance.”

“Babe, you didn’t really invent a time machine, you know.”

“Most of these women crammed themselves into their old dresses, with a few obvious exceptions.” Chance tilted his head toward a table of has-been cheerleaders who’d apparently traded their pom poms for bon-bons. “They’re playing 3 Doors Down, ‘Here Without You.’ It was Audioslave when we walked in. The DJ has my express orders to play nothing but music from ’03 or earlier. Yes, we’ve gone back in time.” He gave Alex a cocky grin.

“I’m pretty sure the real thing was heavy on the pop and dance music.”

“Yeah, well, when I fund the prom, they play only the shit I like. And I didn’t invite anyone I really hated, either.”

“What a catty bitch you are.” Alex laughed, his sapphire eyes sparkling under the shimmering lights of the disco ball above them.

“Mmm. And you love me anyway.”

“Yes, I do.”

Alex wrapped his arms around him and Chance melted against his perfectly tailored jacket. “This was really sweet, Chan. Now I’m feeling a little inadequate about what I got you.”

Chance stretched up to lock lips for a moment. “Don’t worry. You know what happens on prom night, don’t ya? You’re not gonna get off easy.”

“Isn’t that exactly what happens on prom night?”

“Oh, yeah…well, you know what I mean.”

“I have an idea. Thank God you didn’t rent a limo. I’d be up all night paying you back.”

Chance pulled his cell out of his jacket pocket. “Hold that thought…limos…limos…” He scrolled over the search results.

“Guess I’ll need a cup of coffee or two.” Alex laughed and leaned down to kiss him again.

John Mayer’s “Your Body is a Wonderland” came on. Alex grimaced.

Chance smirked and pulled him closer. “Shut up and just go with it.”

With a laugh and a pinch of Chance’s ass, Alex did just that.

The night was everything their prom should have been, with the added bonus of ending the party at their own house, greeting by their giant, doofy dog, and falling together into their shared king-sized bed. No way could their senior prom ever have been half as good.

“No! Watch out for the butterfly!” Alex mumbled in his sleep.

Chance placed a kiss on his temple and another on his cheek before he settled against Alex’s naked chest. “No changin’ this now, babe. Don’t worry.” He pulled the covers up around them both and closed his eyes.

—————–

Check out these other February Flash Fiction Blog Hop Participants:

14th: Jena Wade and Heloise West

15th: Amelia Bishop  and Mina Kelly

16th: Kimber Vale and Shiloh Saddler

17th: Eva Lefoy and Azalea Moone

18th: Dakota TraceJade Crystal, and Crane Hana

19th: JT Hall and ND Wylders

20th: Evelise Archer , Kate Lowell, and Skye Jones


Two Boys Playing Footsie

So, there I was doing my final editing pass on Double Takes, when I decided to add the term “footsie.” Now, I’m sure I’ve written about couples nudging each other under a table before and not called it “footsie,” but the term made me laugh, so I used it.

Anyway, I figured I should look it up and make sure I’m spelling footsie correctly, and that it isn’t something so specific that I’m mislabeling Gio’s adorable little slide of his foot up Lance’s calf (no, not his baby cow–that would be weird and have a different name—possibly Cowsie).

In my quest for footsie Nirvana, I found this fabulous gem of a “How to:”

Photo courtesy of WikiHow

So stellar. I had a momentary panic attack when I saw the woman had her shoe off. Shit! Can’t you play footsie with shoes on? And then he reciprocated, and it was all clear as the freakin’ ice cube in my martini: Guys don’t take their shoes off for footsie!

Okay, so they might. In fact, I’m writing a character right now who would totally take his shoes off, and probably sneak to the little boys room to roll on a knee-high for the occasion. You go, Kyrie! But, it isn’t required, and that’s the Wikipedia-style info I’ve garnered with this tutorial.

Hooray!  Footsie on, ye with penises!

Oh, and “Double Takes” is finally off to my publisher, Liquid Silver Books. I’ll keep you posted on how that goes. 🙂

-Kimber


Playing Matchmaker: Guest Post by Shiloh Saddler

Playing Matchmaker

by Shiloh Saddler

Usually a friend or parent or co-worker will try to play matchmaker.  It seems single people are always being paired up. Or maybe that’s just my experience.  It is hard enough to go on a blind date solely on the advice of someone you know… can you imagine meeting your love through some ghosts playing matchmaker?

Saltwater Lover is set in America in 1800. Kojo is a man with a deep connection to the spirits. He always lives with one foot in this world and one foot in the spirit world. He chose to become a shaman because of his secret urgings to be with another man.  Normally he’d be expected to marry a woman in the village, but now he was married to his work, to the spirits. Except he was lonely…

The spirits knew this. The spirits know everything. So they devised a plan to get Kojo a lover. And, well, the spirits work in mysterious ways.

Miles Mather is the captain of a slaving vessel. Now forty years old he hasn’t had a lover in months. The young men don’t find him as appealing as they used to. And with his choice of partners being illegal it made looking for a lover tricky.

He sails to the African Coast for another cargo of slaves. The spirits do not warn Kojo the catchermen are coming. He is captured and taken to the shoreline with the others soon to be transported to a new life in America, a life in chains.

The spirits think Captain Mather and Kojo will be a good match. Their attraction is instant, but will they resist the forbidden relationship? Could a slave and slaver really fall in love?

Blurb:

In 1800, Kojo is a native African with deep connections to the spirits—but those spirits choose not to save him from the slaving ship. He’s captured and taken aboard, where he meets Captain Mather. During the long journey to America, not even the spirits can save him from their growing attraction. Love blooms. A doomed love. For when they land, Kojo’s fate is to be sold.

Captain Mather can’t imagine Kojo being treated as a slave. Desperate to spare him from that life, the captain hides him, taking him to his home. When he’s blackmailed by a mutinous former crewmember, there seems little choice but to sell his ship and pay. Anything to save the man he loves.

Excerpt:

When the captain reached him, Kojo’s pulse quickened, jumping several beats. The man’s green gaze scanned his muscular chest, glistening with sweat from the long walk. He wrapped a hand around Kojo’s chin, drawing his face gently toward him. His touch was not forceful as Kojo had expected, only enough pressure to direct the movement. The captain smelled of tobacco and rum and a spice Kojo couldn’t name. It was a manly, intoxicating scent.

The man’s calloused fingers trailed down Kojo’s neck, lingering for a moment at the base of his throat. Kojo felt the man’s hot breath on his lips, merely inches from his own. His round face and toned arms made it hard for Kojo to guess his age. A few strands of silver were mixed into his beard and at his hairline but were hard to see—perhaps forty?

Unbridled lust gleamed in the captain’s eyes and yet Kojo wasn’t terrified. It made him feel alive, wanted. Under the man’s predatory gaze, Kojo’s cock thickened, straining against the confines of his breechcloth. No man had looked at him or touched him like that before. And he liked it.

The captain smiled, the harshness in his eyes easing by a fraction.

Kojo’s cheeks burned.

One of the catchermen laughed, peering at Kojo’s loins.

The heat in Kojo’s cheeks spread throughout his whole body. He lowered his gaze, staring at his feet.

The captain shouted at the laughing man and he shut up.

The muscular white man guarding him started arguing with the captain. Kojo didn’t know what they were saying, but the man pointed at him. The captain must have told the man to guard another section of slaves, because his guard changed.

Returning his attention to Kojo, he tipped up his chin as if to tell him not to be ashamed. Then he slipped his fingers around the sacred bead hanging on a piece of leather from his neck. Kojo figured the man was going to cut it off with the small knife hanging in a sheath on his belt. But he didn’t.

The captain’s hand barely brushed his chest as he let go of the bead. The contact was so light Kojo wondered if he had imagined it. Gooseflesh rose on his arms. Then he was gone, leaving him alone with his strange, unmet desires.

Buy Saltwater Lover now:

 

Liquid Silver Books: http://www.lsbooks.com/saltwater-lover-p863.php

Amazon: http://tinyurl.com/o4j6udk

Amazon UK: http://tinyurl.com/m67rhqb

ARe: https://www.allromanceebooks.com/product-saltwaterlover-1374822-340.html

Kobo: http://store.kobobooks.com/en-US/ebook/saltwater-lover

Author Bio:

Shiloh Saddler likes to do research for her steamy romances first hand. She has invented a time machine and travels back to the 19th century on a regular basis. There are experimental settings on her time machine which could propel her into the future and even other worlds. She believes love and a good book makes anything possible.

Social Media Links:

Blog: http://shilohsaddler.blogspot.com/

Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/shiloh.saddler?fref=ts

Twitter: https://twitter.com/ShilohSaddler

Amazon Author Page: http://www.amazon.com/Shiloh-Saddler/e/B00H6CN5D4/ref=ntt_athr_dp_pel_pop_1 


Color Me Scrooged: #Giveaway

I am the crappiest blogger in the New England area lately. Here’s to hopin’ someone pins a cyber-badge on my ass in honor of my shitastic laziness.

Well, the Christmas season is truly upon me. I’m done shopping, for better or worse–suck it up, children, you’re only getting six gifts per annoying jerkface this year and that is me totally overlooking some terrible behavior. Said kids are now home for a hot week and a half (read: Dear Lord, please help me to not murder anyone and bury him/her in the  backyard–that’s all I really want for Christmas. The ground is too frozen and it would be an awfully hard dig. Hell, I already have a bad back). People at the grocery store should watch how they look at me. I’m an asshole on the edge.

I usually put up two trees–a grown-up tree I put all purple, green, and blue ornaments on, with white lights and a silver garland, and a kid’s tree they can decorate with all their crappy kid things (within reason–there is still a red and blue theme involved, and I do move/remove ornaments that are not up to Kimber code).

This year I conveniently “forgot” about the kid tree and no one seemed to notice.

I also haven’t done real Christmas cards for a few years now. I still get them from old work friends and relatives, but I quit a while back. My husband gave me shit the first year and I was all like, ” Here’s the gargantuan list. Have at it, if it’s so important to you.” Needless to say, it didn’t happen.

My grandparents still get a hard copy–they are almost ninety and obviously not of the internet age. Everyone else gets an e-mail/Facebook picture of my kids with a holiday message for health and happiness, like my typing that will make it so. Like they give a shit. I doubt it. I mean, I’m still getting cards/pictures from people, and if they aren’t on Facebook, it’s interesting to see which parent the kids are looking like this year, but otherwise, it’s a colossal waste of money and trees. Also energy. Lazyass Scrooge that I’ve become, I couldn’t possible dedicate hours to Christmas cards.

Anyhow, anyone out there care to out-Scrooge me?  I’ll give the Scroogiest commenter an e-copy of my novelette “Bound by Ink.” Well, I can’t be all bitch if I’m giving stuff away, right? Okay, maybe I still can…

I dare you to out-Scrooge me!

Blurb:

On an alternate Earth, Key has his marriage ink placed out of duty to his friend, Kaya, but realizes his mistake too late. He runs from the woman and her family, desperate to find a happiness that is sure to elude him in his village full of narrow-minded people. In the wilderness he discovers Dax, a man who left their tribe to seek his own freedom. Lust sparks between them, but with Kaya’s father on the hunt for Key, and Key’s own guilt plaguing him, will the two fugitives be able to find their happily ever after?

-Kimber


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