Tag Archives: Kensington Publishing

RELEASE BLITZ: All Note Long (Perfect Harmony #3) by Annabeth Albert

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ABOUT THE BOOK:

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Cover Artist: Cora Graphics/Kensington

Giving true love a spin . . .

Michelin Moses is a country music star on the rise. With a hit single under his Texas-sized belt buckle and a sold-out concert tour underway, his childhood dreams of making it big are finally coming true. But there’s one thing missing—a promise to his dying mother that he’d find it—him—when the time was right. With a little luck, he won’t have to wait too long . . .

Lucky Ramirez is a hunky boy toy who dances at The Broom Closet, one of West Hollywood’s hottest gay bars. He loves what he does, and he’s good at it—almost as good as he is at playing dumb when he spots Michelin Moses at the bar. What happens next is off the charts—and keeps Michelin coming back for more. He’s just not sure it’s the right move for his career. But if Lucky gets his way, Michelin will get Lucky—and no matter how the media spins it, neither of them will be faking it . . .

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Book Series : Perfect Harmony, Book 3 (stands alone well too)
Publisher: Kensington
Release Date: August 2, 2016
Heat Level: 4 (explicit m/m sex, but lots and lots of plot too!)
Pairing: Male/Male
Book Length: aprox. 80,000 words/ 232 pages
Genre/Tags: Romance, M/M Romance, contemporary romance, multi-cultural

EXCERPT:

Michelin Moses had no business at a gay bar, especially not one as notorious as West Hollywood’s The Broom Closet. And the line to get in totally underscored that—the vestibule was a long, narrow tunnel filled with kids out to enjoy their Friday night. Babies, really. Fresh-faced young things who probably didn’t even need to shave jostled one another in the tight space, laughing and joking as they admired one another’s club wear and gossiped about who was fucking who.

Not that Michelin was listening in, but the space was so tiny it was hard not to. He didn’t have club wear to ogle. He had “please for the love of God don’t notice me” clothes. And the idea of openly pointing to another dude in line and announcing to one’s friends, “Oh yeah, I hit that last weekend” was so totally foreign that he couldn’t help but gape a bit. The plexiglass walls of the tunnel gave off weird shadows—neither the lights outside the club nor the dim track lighting along the bottom edge of the tunnel were enough illumination.

He tugged at the collar of his Henley shirt. Damn, it was hot in here. Too small. Too tight. Not enough air. Shut up. He was not claustrophobic. If this line ever moved, he’d feel better once he was inside the Closet.

If that’s not a metaphor for your whole damn life…

“ID please.” Finally, the line reached the bouncers who were taking ID. Michelin couldn’t even remember the last time he’d had to stand around like this, show ID. At least unlike these nineteen-year-olds with their fake identification, Michelin’s Oregon driver’s license was likely to hold up. The bouncer was a huge guy—so tall and jacked that Michelin felt for the tiny stool that held him up—with surprisingly small, delicate hands.

He held the card aloft before finally handing it back and nodding. “Okay, cowboy. Enjoy your night.”

At least he hadn’t laughed outright at the name. That was something. Shoving his license back in his wallet, he stumbled a bit coming out of the tunnel.

“Watch it,” someone barked behind him.

“Sorry,” Michelin mumbled. Hell, he couldn’t even successfully enter the Closet. A nervous laugh bubbled up in his throat, something he stamped right back down. Forget the stupid bar, coming out of his personal closet was out of the question, and he didn’t need the crowd jostling behind him to remind him of that.

“This your first time here?” a kid to the left of him asked—short little guy with far more bravado than brains. Michelin made a noncommittal response but the kid grabbed his sleeve, his eyes going soft and hooded. “How about you be my daddy for the night? We can make sure it’s your lucky night.” The kid winked.

Ugh. Getting lucky wasn’t even remotely in the cards for his night.

“No thanks.” He pulled away from the kid, scanning the cavernous space for signs of the private party room his friends had promised. And oh holy hell, knowing in the abstract that this place had go-go dancers was a far cry from actually seeing said dancers dispersed through the place on platforms and in cages and even on something resembling a trapeze. Gleaming bronze skin and tiny shorts everywhere he looked.

Fuck the private room. I need a soda. Something to relieve his suddenly parched throat. He turned toward the main bar area and ran smack into one of the elevated dancers’ platforms. Two platforms flanked the opening of the club, directing the stream of traffic toward the bar, sort of like how a different sort of place might have large statues. Only instead of works of stone or ice, this…piece of art in front of Michelin was all man.

And what a specimen he was. The dancer probably wasn’t much older than the kids waiting to get into the club, but there was nothing juvenile about his tall, ripped body or that juicy bubble butt that he worked to perfection the way Michelin’s guitar player did a solo—each muscle working in concert with the others, each wiggle carefully choreographed for maximum appeal. Said butt was encased in a pair of shorts. Or at least Michelin guessed that one would call them shorts—they were longer than underwear, but not by much, and made of a clingy, silky red material. The stitching did things to the guy’s package that shouldn’t be legal.

Those muscular legs and that smooth, oiled chest also needed outlawing. The dancer had completed his look with thick, chunky combat boots, sunglasses, and a necklace with a medal on it. The boots and glasses upped the hotness factor to supernova, giving him an untouchable appeal that made it no surprise that he had a fair-sized crowd around his platform. Right as Michelin completed his muscle-by-muscle catalog of the guy, the dancer’s glasses slipped, revealing chocolaty eyes. His eyebrows went up, and the message he sent Michelin was unmistakable: You gonna stay there all night?

Oh fuck. Michelin was blocking the line of traffic, and more important, blocking access to the platform for the patrons who wanted to slip tips in the guy’s waistband.

Should he? He shoved a hand in his pocket, considering. Did he dare risk touching a piece of that gleaming skin? The lights reflecting off the dancer’s body totally made Michelin think of caramel dripping off flan—rich golden tones only enhanced by the contrast of the shiny black combat boots and his closely cropped black hair.

What the fuck was the protocol in a situation like this? Hi, I’m sorry I’ve been eye-fucking you for the last ten minutes, here’s a five? He’d never been to a straight strip club either. Hell, he avoided most bars like the plague. And eye-fucking? He never ogled—and not just because it could be disastrous to his career. Most of the time he simply felt oblivious, but something about the dancer perked up parts of Michelin that usually stayed dormant. Two people shoved around him to stuff money in the dancer’s shorts, their arms trapping Michelin briefly in place. Coming here had been a giant mistake, just as Gloria had warned him.

“You can’t go to that party! Gossip is already high about you mentoring two gay groups—”

“They’re not gay groups. They just happen to have gay members,” Michelin said wearily, already tired of this latest publicist the label had shoved at him.

“Whatever.” Gloria flipped her bony wrist. “They’re a risk you can’t take right now.”

“It’s no big deal. There will be straight people at the party.” Michelin didn’t bother with the “other straight people” pretext. Gloria knew the drill. “There’s no risk in celebrating a friend’s birthday.”

Except now, looking at the dancer, Michelin knew how wrong he’d been. This place was risk personified, and that dancer was the embodiment of everything Michelin denied himself. The dancer was a triple pour of top-shelf whiskey and Michelin couldn’t stop thinking about the heady rush touching him would bring. He should turn around now. Get back to his car now before he really embarrassed himself—

“Mi—boss! There you are!”

Oh thank you, small mercies, that Lucas stopped himself before he said Michelin’s name. Still, Michelin turned toward him warily. Play it cool, he tried to tell Lucas with his eyes.

Lucas nodded, just slightly. Message received. Like everyone else in the club, Lucas was in his early twenties and about a decade younger than Michelin, but at least he was one of Michelin’s favorite kids, especially because he was here to lead Michelin away from the temptation that was the dancer with the sculpture-worthy ass.

“The party room is back this way.” Lucas motioned with his hand. “Follow me.”

“Babe!” A familiar rangy figure with a punk haircut draped himself over Lucas. “You found him.” Cody had a smile for Michelin, but his affection was all for his boyfriend.

Ordinarily, Michelin loved being around the two of them and the other guys he mentored. Their energy was infectious, and their passion for music renewed his own. But tonight, Michelin’s stomach cramped as he followed the two of them to the rear of the club. Happiness practically rolled off them and their movements were totally in sync with each other. Once Michelin had thought he might get to know what that was like, but those days were long past.

“Don’t even think about doing anything now. You’ve got too much riding on this year. Don’t be foolish. You’ve got the number one country song in America right now. Don’t mess with your momentum.” Gloria’s voice rang in his ears. Nope. No way was Michelin ever getting what his friends shared. No sense in pining for it either. He had a career he loved, friends who made him laugh, and family at his back. He’d known what the trade-offs were when he decided to trade his rock stardom for country crossover success.

Tonight’s strange melancholy mood had him aching to get back home, push all these feelings into working on a new song. With any luck, Michelin could say happy birthday to Jalen, make a round of greetings to the other musicians he was mentoring, and get the hell out of Dodge. Preferably without running into the dancer again. He didn’t need another reminder of how little he fit into this world—or how much he wished life were a bit different.

PURCHASE A COPY: Kensington Publishing | Amazon US | Amazon UK | Barnes & Noble | Google Play | Itunes | Kobo Books

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ABOUT THE AUTHOR:

Annabeth Albert grew up sneaking romance novels under the bed covers. Now, she devours all subgenres of romance out in the open—no flashlights required! When she’s not adding to her keeper shelf, she’s a multi-published Pacific Northwest romance writer.

Emotionally complex, sexy, and funny stories are her favorites both to read and to write. Annabeth loves finding happy endings for a variety of pairings and is a passionate gay rights supporter. In between searching out dark heroes to redeem, she works a rewarding day job and wrangles two children.

Represented by Saritza Hernandez of the Corvisiero Literary Agency.

CONNECT WITH ANNABETH:

Facebook | Facebook Author Page | Twitter | Tumbler | Fan Group | Newsletter

 

GIVEAWAY:

Rafflecopter Prize: One winner will be selected to win a $20.00 Amazon Gift Card.

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BLOG TOUR: KNIT TIGHT by Annabeth Albert

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Today we’re thrilled to welcome the tour for Knit Tight, the latest book in Annabeth Albert’s steamy Portland Heat series. Check it out – you won’t want to miss the excerpt and giveaway! ;)

ABOUT THE BOOK:

Knit Tight COVER
Cover Artist: Fiona Jayde

It’s no secret that Portland, Oregon, has some of best restaurants, shops, and cafés in the country. But it’s the hard-working men who serve it all up that keep us coming back for more…

One of Portland’s hottest young baristas, Brady is famous for his java-topping flair, turning a regular cup of joe into a work of art. Every Wednesday—aka “Knit Night”—hordes of women and their needles descend on the coffeehouse, and Brady’s feeling the heat. Into the fray walks a tall, dark, and distractingly handsome stranger from New York. His name is Evren, and he’s the sexy nephew of Brady’s sweetest customer, the owner of the yarn shop down the street. He’s also got a killer smile, confident air, and masculine charm that’s tying Brady’s stomach in knots. The smitten barista can’t wait to see him at the next week’s gathering. But when he tries to ask Evren out, his plans unravel faster than an unfinished edge. If Brady hopes to warm up more than Evren’s coffee, he’ll have to find a way to untangle their feelings, get out of the friend zone, and form a close-knit bond that’s bound to last a lifetime…

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Published by Kensington Publishing
Book Length:  43,000 words
Categories: Contemporary, Erotica, Gay Fiction, Humor, M/M Romance, New Adult, Romance

PURCHASE A COPY: AMAZON / iBOOKS / GOOGLE / KOBO / BARNES & NOBLE 

EXCERPT:

“Why? Am I turning you on?” My hand wandered over my fly. Not stroking, just firm pressure. We’d danced past sexy talk, far out of the friend zone, now meandering into something dark and heady. I pressed hard against my aching erection as I waited to see how far Ev would let himself go.

“Perhaps. I told you some things, now you tell me. What is your favorite thing?”

“Uh. The long, slow grinding ending in oral that you just described sounds amazing and hits a lot of my buttons. For the record, I’m totally good with…mess. And I like giving oral. Love getting my throat fucked. Being pinned down while grinding or getting my throat fucked, that gets me going.”

Ev was silent a long moment. Perhaps I’d pushed him too far. “Tell me about this throat fucking. How do you like it?”

Aw yes. I’d never had phone sex, but I had a feeling we were about to head in that direction. “Where are you right now?”

“In my bed. With a closed door. Are you going to ask me what I’m wearing next?”

“Knitted underwear?” I laughed as I headed for the bathroom—the one room with a lock. My usual jerk-off method was a locked door and a longer-than-necessary shower.

“Sorry to disappoint. Pajama bottoms. I worry Hala Mira could need me in the night.”

“Hey, you don’t have to apologize to me. I share a room with a ten-year-old. I’m going to the bathroom now, though. And locking the door.”

“You require a locked door to tell me about giving head?”

“I require a locked door, a quiet house, and about three hours to show you,” I countered. “Fuck, Ev. I want you to wear me out.”

“Oh, I could. Do not doubt that, Brady. You want me to wear your throat out? Use you so much you need me to feed you some gelato after?”

“Fuck yes,” I whispered. “I’d like it if you were on the bed or in a chair and I were kneeling in front of you. Or you were standing in front of me. Me on my knees is the key thing.”

“You ever try with your head over the edge of the mattress? It happens that this bed is the perfect height for that…”

“Oh yes. Tell me more. I want to jerk off while you fuck my throat like that.”

“Ah. But I don’t want that. Perhaps we will need to find other occupation for your hands.”

Oh man. Ev knew how to turn my crank big-time. “I’m good with having my hands tied.”

I could tell from his inhalation that it worked for him, too. “How flexible are you?”

“Bendier than I look. I had to do yoga stretching exercises to rehab a skateboarding injury. Turns out I dig it.”

“Nice. Very nice. I like your mouth very, very much.”

“Like the beard? Because if you want my mouth more…exposed, I can work with that. Beard is pure Northwest laziness on my part.”

“The beard is…part of the appeal. Your mouth is very full and your beard always seems like it’s…teasing. I think I want your hair down, though, yes?”

“Go for it.” Getting into it, I pulled my hair free of the ponytail, let it flop against my shoulders. Spit gathered in my mouth like I really was about to get a go at Ev’s cock. Fuck. Just the thought had me throbbing. I unzipped to get a little more breathing room. “I want to—”

Knock. Knock. Knock. “Brady, are you in there? I don’t feel so good,” Jonas called through the door.

Fuck. I kept my curse to myself. “Just a minute, buddy,” I called.

“You need to go?” Ev said in my ear. “I understand.”

“Yeah, I’m sorry.”

“Another time, Brady, another time.”

Even if he just meant the phone-sex version of the fantasy, part of me thrilled to his words. And I was pulling hard for the in-person.

ABOUT THE AUTHOR:

Annabeth Albert grew up sneaking romance novels under the bed covers. Now, she devours all subgenres of romance out in the open—no flashlights required! When she’s not adding to her keeper shelf, she’s a multi-published Pacific Northwest romance writer.

Emotionally complex, sexy, and funny stories are her favorites both to read and to write. Annabeth loves finding happy endings for a variety of pairings and is a passionate gay rights supporter.  In between searching out dark heroes to redeem, she works a rewarding day job and wrangles two children.

Represented by Saritza Hernandez of the Corvisiero Literary Agency.

CONNECT WITH ANNABETH: 

FACEBOOK / FACEBOOK AUTHOR PAGE / TWITTER / TUMBLR / FAN GROUP / NEWSLETTER

 

GIVEAWAY:

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Catch Your Breath (The O’Leary’s #4) by Shannyn Schroeder

Catch Your Breath CoverRelease Date: July 3, 2014
Published by Kensington Books
Review Copy from NetGalley

Is it worth the risk? Is love worth the risk?

That’s what I kept asking myself as I delved into this story – each of these characters has a lot on the line personally and professionally. It’s easy for me to imagine fiery Moira O’Leary willing to jeopardize it all to get what she wants in life. She’s a no-holds-barred kind of heroine, one who acts first and asks questions later. That kind of enthusiasm is contagious, pulling you in with her passion and liveliness.

Jimmy O’Malley, on the other hand, doesn’t seem like much of a risk taker. He’s cautious beyond fault and always carefully assessing a situation. Sounds like perfect traits for a cop, right? Except in order to find what he’s looking for at work and in love, he’s got to put himself out there. He realizes this, but getting up the courage to do it is another matter completely.

As soon as Moira and Jimmy lock eyes at that first event, sparks fly. These two are combustible. There’s no question of chemistry – they’ve got it. What frustrates me is how Jimmy keeps shutting it down – darn Jimmy! Why do you have to be so careful?  I can only imagine how it is for Moira, although with her hot, Irish temper, she certainly doesn’t hold back. The tension between the two mounts deliciously until it finally spills over. And by spills, I mean things get pretty messy.

The case Jimmy’s working on thrusts them together, and the boundaries between personal and professional get a little blurry. They’re both trying to find their footing, and Jimmy’s doing his best to try to maintain control. The problem is Moira’s impulsive and unpredictable which is tough to get a handle on, leaving plenty of occasions for the two to clash. To say they’re like mixing oil and water is putting it mildly. I often wondered how Schroeder would manage to resolve their differences without sacrificing their independent natures, but she does it brilliantly.  It’s there in between the explosions, in the quiet time when they’re relaxed and not trying so hard or concentrating too much on outside pressures.  They’re genuinely into each other regardless of how they fight it.

Building the history between the two wasn’t hard – they’ve known each other forever, and Schroeder paints a clear picture that makes it simple to see how their feelings have evolved over time. I could even understand why Jimmy denies their connection for so long – they each have a lot to lose if this ends badly. It definitely doesn’t bode well when their families get involved.

Speaking of family – it’s obviously a big part of the story, and really this entire series. The O’Leary’s are a tight-knit Irish clan who are always looking out for each other. The same could be said for the O’Malley’s, but they seem to have had a rougher time of it. With a big family sometimes comes big baggage, and Moira and Jimmy definitely spend a significant amount of time coping with it.

While the relationship between Moira and Jimmy is riveting enough, what really makes this book for me is Jimmy’s investigation. I love the excitement, action, mystery and suspense that comes along with the case. Schroeder intertwines the two story lines in all the right places to keep things complicated.  There are a few times when I could throttle Jimmy for being a bit stubborn and overprotective, but he usually gets his act together pretty quickly. If Moira can forgive him, I guess so can I. ;)

If I’m being honest, Liam O’Leary’s story is the one I’m dying to get my hands on. We see quite a bit of him in this book, since he figures so prominently in both Jimmy’s and Moira’s lives. He’s a bit different, solitary, and a loner which has me totally intrigued. I can’t wait to see if or how he’ll find his happily ever after.

RATING: BAD ASS BOOTS