Interview: Kelli Wilkins, A Secret Match with giveaway


med_SecretMatch coverThe “Secret” to Writing Gay Romances
By Romance Author Kelli A. Wilkins

Hi, my name is Kelli Wilkins, and I write gay (m/m) romances. I also write straight romances, historicals, paranormals, and just about any other romance genre you can think of. But I get a lot of questions about “why” or “how” I write gay romance. “Why would you write one of those? You’re not a man or gay.” I generally respond with: “Why shouldn’t I? I wrote a vampire romance, and I’m not a vampire.”

When my newest gay romance, A Secret Match, came out, a friend asked me: “How do you write a gay romance?” I replied: “The same way I wrote my historical Viking romance. I wrote the story that was in my head.”

And that’s the “secret” to writing gay romances: there is none. Just write the story. Let the characters tell you what happens and start typing. Writing a gay romance is really no different than writing a romance in any other genre, but some people get hung up on the idea of writing intimate love scenes, not understanding how the characters should act, or getting the story right—but that could happen when you’re writing any book, in any genre.

Let’s go back to English class for a minute. All good books (regardless of genre) need to have the same basic elements: a believable plot, interesting, fleshed-out characters the readers can root for (with histories and backstories), sensory details that pull the reader into the story, and good dialog. These elements go into every romance (and horror story) I write, whether it’s an erotic historical/fantasy, straight paranormal, or gay contemporary. Once you get the basics down, you can just about write anything; mysteries, suspense, spy novels, and even children’s books.

But everyone has different comfort levels when writing (and reading) a romance. Some people are content with mild, M/F romances, others like to spice things up and get a little wild with experimentation or ménage, and still others write straight, gay, ménage, or any combination. It’s probably safe to say that if you’re not comfortable reading M/M romances, you’re most likely not going to write one—and that’s fine. If writing a gay romance isn’t something you’re comfortable with and you can’t get inside your characters’ heads and write freely, you might want to stick to M/F romances.

The bottom line is: read and write whatever you want. I’ll do the same, and I’ll write whatever book comes to me, no matter what genre. My romances are about people who meet, fall in love, and overcome obstacles to be with each other. This basic philosophy applies whether the characters are same-sex, different sex, or space alien and earth girl. Love is love and romance is romance. That’s why I’m not married to one specific genre or heat level. I have no “control” over the characters who come to me, so I go where the story and the characters take me.

As I’m writing, I focus on the story and tell it the way the characters live it. (It’s their story, after all!) I don’t worry about “what people might think” of me writing about two male characters kissing, going to bed, or making dinner. People will think whatever they want. If readers are “turned off” to me as an author because I write gay romances… well, too bad, see ya.

When I wrote my first gay romance, Four Days with Jack, I considered “what people would think” about the book and me writing it—for about three seconds. Then I reminded myself that I’m a writer, and I create the characters and scenes that make up the book. Basically, the story needs to be told, and I’m the one telling it. I’ve made up all sorts of things: an erotic Bigfoot story, a historical mystery, detailed ménage scenes (in all combinations), and a first-person vampire love story.

But what about the love scenes? Well, my “secret” to writing gay love scenes is: I approach a same-sex love scene the same way I would if I was writing about a hetero couple. When I write a straight romance, about half of the scenes are written from the male point of view. So I have experience thinking from a male perspective anyway. He thinks about the girl he loves, fantasizes about making love to her, they kiss and touch, and… there’s no difference in writing a story from two male points of view. Writing a love scene isn’t about the gender or the anatomy of the characters—it’s about creating a believable, intimate scene where two people express their love for each other.

So what’s the hardest part about writing a same-sex romance or love scene? The answer may surprise you—pronouns! (Yes, we’re back to English class again!) As I’m writing, I’ll dash off something like “He ran his hand down his stomach and….” Wait, what? He ran his own hand down his own stomach? I have to pay extra close attention when revising/editing a M/M scene. Too many “his” references and we don’t know who is doing what. Better to say: “He ran his hand down Steve’s stomach and…”

To date, I’ve had three gay romances published with Amber Quill Press (Four Days with Jack, Killer in Wolf’s Clothing and A Secret Match), but I didn’t just “jump in” to writing M/M stories. The first same-sex (F/F) encounter I wrote appeared briefly (as part of a ménage experience) in Dalton’s Temptation. I went with it because it fit the characters and the storyline. The same thing happened in my erotic historical, A Midsummer Night’s Delights. I didn’t know that Julian or his wife had same-sex fantasies until I started writing. (Characters sometimes surprise writers!) I trusted my instincts and wrote the story that was in my head. (That book has plenty of same-sex and ménage scenes, and I even wrote two sequels, A Midwinter Night’s Delights and Ultimate Night’s Delights.)

I enjoyed writing all of my books, and I’m just as proud of my gay romances as I am of my straight romances. Why? Because I’m a romance writer—and in my books, everyone deserves to be in love and live happily-ever-after.

Happy Reading,   Kelli



Let’s Dish a bit…

A Secret Match is all about wrestling. How long have you been a fan?

I’ve been a wrestling fan my whole life. I grew up watching wrestling and one of my very first memories is of watching a match with Chief Jay Strongbow.

Who is your favorite wrestler? 

It’s hard to choose one from all time, but three stand out—Bret “Hitman” Hart, “British Bulldog” Davy Boy Smith, and Kevin Nash (aka Diesel). When I wrote my first wrestling romance, A Perfect Match, everyone wanted to know who the wrestlers in the book were supposed to be and these were some of the guesses. But the characters in that book (and in A Secret Match) aren’t based on any real wrestlers—I made them up!

Have you ever tried wrestling, jello, mud, regular, at all?

Nope! But my brother had a short-lived stint as a wrestler named Buck Wrangler!

What’s the most difficult thing about writing? 

A difficult thing about writing romance (aside from creating the story in general) is writing love scenes. The intensity, details, and descriptions have to be tailored to the genre and heat level of the story. Plus, you have to make the scene develop naturally and fit the personalities of the characters. 

If you’re writing a tender historical romance, love scenes are handled quite differently than if you are writing a super sizzling erotic romance. The heat levels and intensities vary among all my books, so I’m able to experiment with different scenarios in the love scenes. Sometimes you have to set aside your “internal editor” and write the scene that’s appropriate for the book and the characters, regardless of what other people think you “should” write.

Aside from that, another difficult thing about writing is finding enough time in a busy day to sit down and write!

Do you read reviews? 

Absolutely. I read them all. The bad ones I ignore and figure that the reviewer didn’t “get” the book or it might have been something out of her (or his) usual genre. The good ones, I post and share.

What is your opinion on coming out?

I think it’s a very personal and individual experience and there’s no “right way” to do it. A person should come out (or not – that’s also a choice) on his or her own terms, when the time is right, and tell whoever they want. Hopefully, he or she will have support from friends and family and everyone will accept it. This was a major theme I addressed in A Secret Match and touched on in my other M/M romance, Four Days with Jack.tnFourDaysWithJackcover

Best place you’ve ever visited?

I’ve done a lot of traveling, so it’s hard to pick just one place. I love the U.K. so England, Ireland, Wales & Scotland are probably all tied for first place. Yellowstone was also really nice. I like visiting remote and scenic places.

Three words to describe you?

Busy, eclectic Capricorn.

Short bio, Please! 

Thanks for letting me visit! It was fun sharing my thoughts with readers. I invite everyone to visit my site ( to read excerpts, reviews, and summaries of all my romances. I welcome feedback from readers and you can contact me with questions or comments. You can sign up for my newsletter, Kelli’s Quill, here: 


Kelli A. Wilkins is an award-winning author who has published more than 90 short stories, 19 romance novels, and 4 non-fiction books. Her romances span many genres and heat levels. Kelli had three romances published in 2014: A Secret Match, Wilderness Bride, and Dangerous Indenture. Look for her story, “Home for Halloween” in the upcoming Moon Shadows horror anthology. Preview it here:

Kelli publishes a blog: ( filled with excerpts, interviews, writing prompts, and whatever else pops into her head. She also writes a monthly newsletter, Kelli’s Quill, and posts on Facebook and Twitter. Kelli invites readers to visit her website, to learn more about all of her writings.

Catch up with Kelli on the Web:



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Amber Quill Press Author page:




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Leave a comment for Kelli by 9/20/14 at 11:59 PM for a random chance to win a copy of A Secret Match! 


Giveaway: WIN Satisfaction Guaranteed Anthology


satisfactionBlurb: Nothing is more frustrating than getting screamed at, spilled on, and talked down to while doing a miserable job just to make ends meet. Less Than Three Press offers a collection of romantic shorts about the people who work the daily grind to keep the world turning, and toil away so others can have fun. Because everyone deserves a happy end, especially those who work so hard in the service of others.

Stories in this anthology include:

» Robillard’s by R.D. Hero
» No Complaints by Diana Sheridan
» Fair Weather for Airstrikes by Mina MacLeod
» Heartbeat by Mell Eight
» Deliver Me by J.D. Walker
» A Bird in the Hand by Ils Greyhart
» There is Light by Blaine D. Arden
» Stableboy by Leona Carver
» Flip Flops & Tennis Shoes by Bettina Kaipling
» Single Vampire Seeks Consort by Cassandra Pierce
» My Sexual Superhero by Talya Andor

Robillard’s by R.D. Hero

Diego tilted his head, a small, vague smile on his face as he watched the father-son duo of George and Faisel Harrington argue with each other in an ever-exceeding volume of whisper. George kept looking to Diego, and chuckling, as if to show just how silly the whole fiasco was, while Faisel, a boy barely breaking out of teenhood, was red-faced and focused on his father.

Eyebrows rising, Diego decided to let their conversation play out rather than try any smooth interception, so he glanced down at the notes he had already taken.

Twenty-one, recent graduate. Nepotism? G. seems worried about prospects.

Diego straightened his sleeve, a frown on his face as he thought, but he was careful to pay attention to the cadence of the argument, so as to know when to look up with his salesman’s grin. Faisel seemed like trouble. He was already scowling when he trailed in after his father, and when Diego pulled out a nice, conservative navy suit, he had almost fled.

“It’s a tech startup, George,” Faisel said. “They wear jeans!”

Diego feigned scratching his nose to hide an insuppressible smile of amusement. But then he caught George shooting him a facial expression that screamed SOS, and cleared his throat. “Mr. Harrington, I can assure you, when it comes to the interview, you want to look your very best, no matter what the company’s day-to-day dress code is.”

Faisel looked to him as if just noticing Diego was still standing there, eyes narrowed in obvious disdain. “These are like, twenty-five year old dudes, they don’t care.”

“Their backers care,” Diego replied shortly. Faisel immediately blushed, and George snorted. Good. It was a gamble to be rude, but Diego had already learned through countless consultations with George that he appreciated sincerity.

However, there was rude, and then there was lecturing. Diego could already see the warning signs that Faisel was closing off completely to any sort of suggestion. “Then, Mr. Harrington,” Diego said, turning to run a hand down the arm of a suit hanging behind him. “Think of it this way. Women appreciate a man who knows how to dress himself.”

“If a girl can’t handle how I dress now—”

Diego hid his growing annoyance by looking at the suits again. This Faisel was obnoxious; he would be an insult to the suit he was wearing, anyway. “Well,” Diego said coldly, “by all means—”

“Come check out the modern wear over here,” came a laid-back, unaffected voice, with just a hint of humor. Diego nearly bit his tongue.

Josh Braden, he of the perfected surfer-boy-all-grown-up look, had a hand resting on Faisel’s shoulder. With a curled lip, Diego appraised him, wondering just how low Josh could sink, even poaching a customer right out from under Diego’s nose. “I’m sure a more conservative approach—”

“Yeah, modern’s alright,” Faisal said, gawking at Josh’s dark green suit and baby-blue dress shirt. It hurt Diego’s eyes to look at it.

Diego opened his mouth to protest—Josh was wearing pure black Converse shoes, for god’s sake. It had been like this since Braden had come to work as a suit salesman at Robillard’s three months ago, drawing away most of the younger men who may have come to Diego just because he was close enough in age, unlike the older salesmen.

“I haven’t seen him before,” George said, reminding Diego that he still had one customer at least, his cheeks heating when he realized George probably caught him openly glaring.

“Yes,” Diego said, keeping his voice level, “he’s new.” He made sure to say ‘new’ like ‘an idiot’.

“I’ll just be happy if I can get the kid in a tie,” George sighed, turning to rest his arm on the cufflink display, quirking a small smile at Diego. “His mother sends him out here with no warning, and expects me to get him a job. I’m a restaurant owner, what do I know about this Twitter-Facebook-tech crap?”

Diego put on the understanding smile he reserved for clients who shared just a little too much for an employee-customer relationship. “A clean, stylish suit is always a step in the right direction,” he said, careful not to glance over to Josh and Faisel, lest he be proven entirely incorrect on that front.

George smiled in return, nodding. “Anyway,” he said with a laugh and a wave of his hand. “Hopefully you’re not too disappointed with just me?”

Quickly shaking his head, Diego gestured at a rack he had wheeled out earlier. “I have already selected a few sports jackets from the new season, as you requested.”

Yes, he was talking stiffly. He had seen younger salesmen do the eager-to-please act, and sometimes that worked, but usually their desperation rolled off them in waves, and it made most clients uncomfortable. When Diego finally scored a position at Robillard’s, he was careful to observe the assured expertise of the seasoned salesmen.

Not that Diego wasn’t desperate. But George Harrington didn’t need to know that.

George moved to stand by Diego by the racks. “I can already tell I’m going to like these.”

“Just from the sleeves?” Diego replied, pulling out the first jacket, a warm-toned brown blazer. When George acknowledged him with an exhale of amusement, he then said, “When you mentioned you wanted to go a bit more casual…”

George’s lip rose. “Yes?”

“Well,” Diego continued, and held the blazer up against George’s chest, “I was surprised.”

Some honesty is allowed, with a well-built client relationship.

“Don’t worry,” George laughed, “I’ll still be needing those nice, high-priced suits in the fall.”

Diego smiled a secretive little smile, brushing his hand down the front of the blazer, feeling the pressure of George’s chest behind it. There was a low “Hmm…” from George.



Stableboy by Leona Carver

Stableboys led a good life for the most part. Nic really couldn’t complain. Much. Though, when an adventure party rode into his stable yard a mere thumb-width before sunset, he thought he might make an exception.

“Here, boy.” A muscular mountain of a warrior bestride an even greater landmark of a beast tossed the reins down, catching Nic in the face. “This one needs a watchful eye and a quick step. Don’t let her bite or she’ll never let go.”

Nic gaped up at man and dapple grey mare both, his stomach sinking. The horse didn’t need a stable; she needed an armoury. On the battle field she probably counted as a siege engine. She stood nineteen hands at the shoulder, easily towering over Nic’s head. As he quivered, his hands wanting nothing more than to drop the reins like hot coals, she turned her head and glared at him with a baleful, white-rimmed eye. That eye had seen men die. From trampling. Under her huge, sharpened hooves.

The warrior didn’t seem to notice Nic’s dismay. He swung down from his red-blooded siege engine and swaggered unhurriedly toward the rest of his party. A thin man in a cleric’s robes slumped atop his mount, just one more saddlebag among many on a shrivelled nag—Nic mentally sighed in relief; that one would be easy to care for. A rare Amazon woman in her traditional garb of very little rode a spry, golden jungle beast, as much antelope as horse. Their last companion, a woman sheathed head to foot in leather, rode a coal black stallion. Nic counted them and steeled himself for a full night’s work, starting with the battle mare.

He grudgingly attempted to tug her head toward the stable door, clicking hopefully. She responded with her huge yellow teeth and he leapt back to avoid losing an arm.

“Quit messing around, boy,” the inn’s owner bellowed across the yard. Quietly, he added, “My deepest apologies, sir. The boy is an idiot. A pity hire.”

Their amused stares burned between Nic’s shoulder blades, igniting an embarrassed flush. With renewed determination, he faced the horse: His personal Bull of Atredes, the favoured mount of the patron god of headaches, and a difficult battle faced by at least a dozen mythical heroes. Much like the bull itself and Atredes’ maligned demesne, overcoming her required equal parts gentility, trickery, and obstinacy.

He grasped her rein and, when she made to snap at him again, offered up a palm of oats. Her eye rolled, but she lipped it up instead of snapping his hand off. Before she could change her mind, he canted a hip to show her the pouch at his hip, swollen with a feast of equine delights. At his next tug and click, she practically lunged toward him, and the cruel chuckles of the innkeeper died away.

She chased him into their largest and sturdiest stall, nipped at his leg when he scrambled over one of the walls, and kicked at the heavy boards with an angry hoof when she realized he had locked her in. Her furious snorts and whinnies sounded more bovine than equine, strengthening her resemblance to Atredes’ vicious mount.

“I’ll be back, Bull,” he called over his shoulder as he darted back to the yard, resolutely ignoring the throb in his thigh. He would have tooth-shaped bruises come morning.

The cleric’s nag followed slowly, exaggeratedly dragging her hooves and hanging her head. “You’re a sharp one,” he murmured, watching her ears swivel. “As wise as your master, I’m sure. I think I will call you … Deacon.”

He tugged and tempted her with his oats, to little effect, until they passed into the building and its warmth surrounded them. Then she pulled ahead. He let her make her way into one of the waiting stalls, content to let her choose her own place to bed down.

The Amazon brought her own mount in. Her obsidian eyes flicked over Nic and dismissed him as she passed him in the aisle. “Fresh hay, clean water,” she said without turning her proud face.

“Straight away, madam,” Nic replied, automatically bowing although she wasn’t looking at him. “Once your companions’ horses are inside.”

She didn’t respond. However, as Nic didn’t immediately find himself bleeding from a grievous Amazonian wound, she accepted his offer.

That one is … Daffodil, he decided, mostly out of spite for the no doubt warlike, but coddled, animal.

When he trotted back into the yard, the sun had sunk behind the inn’s peak. He blinked into the purple twilight and seething shadows, unable to find the last traveller and her black horse. Then something moved, close enough to feel the huff of a breath, and he startled violently sideways.

“Sorry,” murmured a husky female voice. “I forget. Most eyes cannot see us when we stand still.”

The last rider melted out of the shadows by the stable wall. The lamplight streaming through the door picked out ruddy highlights in her black, sleekly tied hair. Her skin glowed like moonlight, marking her as a northerner, but her eyes were warm brown, a hue more common in the south. She held her stallion’s rein in a gloved hand and passed it into Nic’s palm.

“Treat Ash with respect and he will do the same for you,” she said, forming a weary smile. That close, Nic could see the signs of a recent fight in the swelling of her lower lip, an abrasion on her cheek, and a darkening bruise under her eye. Not unusual in the parties that tended to frequent the inn, but unfortunate on such a lovely visage.

Ash whuffled and nudged Nic’s stomach.

The woman laughed. “But I am sure you will. He is a good judge of character and I believe he likes you.” With a parting pat on Ash’s arched neck, she turned toward the inn door and disappeared into the twilight. Nic constrained a shiver at the eerie sight. He had overheard enough late night, liquor-soaked conversation to know an assassin when he saw one.
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Entries are limited to persons 18 years of age and older. You are stating you are of age by entering.
Just one entry per email address will be counted.
Winners will be notified via email. We are not responsible for incorrect email addresses on entries, alas.
Thank you to Less Than Three Books for generously donating this ebook for giveaway.


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Giveaway: WIN More Than Anything by TT Kove


more thanBlurb:Arriving home after work one evening, Jørgen sees a young man who looks adrift and out of place—and who promptly has a seizure on the sidewalk. Jørgen takes care of him until the seizure passes and then, not knowing who to contact, takes care of him for the night. After giving the kid, Geir, a ride home the next morning, he expects that to be the end of it. He doesn’t expect Geir to be a student at the vocational school where Jørgen works as an electrician. He definitely does not expect to be drawn to Geir time and again, to want things that will never be possible for two people with more obstacles between them than can ever be overcome.

I’d just made sure my car was locked when I saw him. He was standing on the sidewalk, right next to the gate to my flat. He was properly bundled up for winter, so he shouldn’t have been catching my attention at all, aside from the fact he was in front of my gate. But the blank expression on his young face, that did catch my attention.

I pocketed my keys and walked slowly towards him. I didn’t want to startle him, but at the same time that blank look had me worried.

“Hey. Are you all right?” I spoke loud enough to catch the attention of someone standing only a foot away, but he didn’t react at all.

Frowning, I stepped closer. Was he drunk? I didn’t think so. Drunkenness would have him stumbling around, not standing perfectly still. Maybe he was high on something? That was more difficult to determine, though.

“Are you all right?”

I tried again now that I was closer to him. There was still no reaction, and I was really starting to worry. I tapped a finger against my thigh and wondered if I should call for an ambulance when he suddenly jerked and fell to the ground. His body was spasming, and it took me a couple of seconds to realise that he was having an epileptic seizure.

I crouched down next to him, grateful for all the snow piled up on the sidewalk that softened his fall. His entire body was seizing violently and his lips were turning slightly blue. I didn’t try to touch him or hold him. I’d dealt with epileptic seizures before, though that was a part of my past I shied away from. My knowledge came in handy now, however. If I hadn’t been familiar with epilepsy, I might’ve freaked out, but I’d seen this several times before. Granted, it had been years, but it wasn’t exactly something I’d forget.

The seizure didn’t last more than a few minutes, definitely less than five, so I figured he was good when another one didn’t start up again. But he was still in no condition to go anywhere. His eyes had closed and his breathing was turning deep. He was falling asleep.

“Fuck.” I glanced around. I wasn’t sure why I did it; it had been obvious earlier that he was alone.

If anyone had been there, they wouldn’t have been able to do anything anyway. So I did the only responsible thing I could and hefted him up in my arms. He was young and wearing a rucksack.

I managed to get him inside without dropping him. Not that he was particularly heavy, but it was a bit complicated to pick up my keys and unlock the door when my arms were busy holding him. It was also awkward thanks to the thick, slippery jacket he was wearing, and the heavy rucksack.

My flat only had one bedroom, so that was where I put him down. Right in the middle of my own bed. I hadn’t made it that morning, and it was a mess, but the kid was already asleep. I supposed it didn’t really matter. I took of the rucksack and jacket before carefully laying him back down again. His trousers were clean, only slightly damp from the snow, which meant he hadn’t pissed himself during the seizure. I pulled off his Converse last then tucked my duvet over him. He was in all of his clothes, but I’d left my window open and the room was freezing.

I closed the window on my way out then deposited his shoes and jacket in the hallway. The rucksack I took with me into the living room, where I promptly started rifling through the contents. I probably should have felt guilty, but the kid had just had a seizure in front of me and I’d saved him from freezing to death out in the snow. I figured I was allowed some leeway.

He had a few schoolbooks in there, and I assumed from their titles he was studying Design, Arts and Craft. He was in upper secondary school, then, at least fifteen. I found a wallet next, where he had a debit card stashed inside. Geir Berger. And he was sixteen years old. Seventeen in little over a month.

I pulled out a sketchbook. It was entirely out of curiosity that I opened it. There couldn’t be anything of importance in it, but I was honest enough to admit to myself that I wanted to see if he was any good. There were regular sketches of fruit and other objects, probably what he had to do in school, but there were also landscape sketches and some of people. He was good. I hadn’t expected it. I didn’t know why I hadn’t, seeing as I didn’t know him.

I closed the sketchbook and put it atop the rest of his books. The only thing left in the main compartment of the rucksack was a pencil case. That was of little interest. I zipped up the smaller compartment in the front and found his epilepsy medication as well as a mobile. The last one was what I’d been looking for.

It was on, and thankfully didn’t have a passcode, so I could freely browse through his contacts. There was a Dad in there, but no Mum. I tried calling Dad, but was promptly told the mobile was shut off. I tried the home number too, but that just kept ringing without anyone answering.

Seemed I was stuck with the kid.
Giveaway rules (always have to have them)
Entries are limited to persons 18 years of age and older. You are stating you are of age by entering.
Just one entry per email address will be counted.
Winners will be notified via email. We are not responsible for incorrect email addresses on entries, alas.
Thank you to Less Than Three Books for generously donating this ebook for giveaway.


T.T. Kove

T.T. Kove has been writing stories since she knew how to, though they did not always involve gay boys as they now do. Now she also occasionally writes about gay girls. A fantasy setting is the current obsession, but T.T. also writes contemporary romances—some of them quite erotic.

A native of Norway, T.T. loves the country—in fiction. In real life, she wishes it could be warmer. T.T. works a regular job by day, and spends the rest of her time writing. Her iPad is her best friend, and it travels with her everywhere she goes, but at home the Mac rules the house.

If you have any comments, questions or other feedback, you can contact T. T. at You can also visit T.T.’s website at and her blog

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Giveaway: WIN Phoenix by Melanie Tushmore


phoenixBlurb:Young painter Alex Tatton has always loved music. When a tragic accident takes away his parents, he turns to a darker style of music and discovers the rock band, Death Rose. Feeling isolated from his own life, Alex develops a crush on guitarist Danny Death who, despite the name, is vivacious, full of life, and has a reputation for being ‘the nicest guy in rock n’ roll’.

After a gig, Alex finds Danny to give him a signed painting. Danny is everything a star should be: charming, sexy, a beacon of light in Alex’s otherwise dark life, and after meeting him Alex is determined to see him again—and this time he wants more than just an autograph.

“You have a real talent,” his father used to say. “You’ll have to think of something useful to do with it.” His mother had always been more generous with her praise. Ever since Alex could remember, she’d exclaim, “That’s beautiful, dear,” to every single picture he’d showed her.

Alex smiled wanly at the memory, stepping back from his easel. He was painting another picture of his parents, this time a shot from a summer barbeque. His father stood at the cooker, tongs in hand, sunglasses up on his head. His mother was by his side, one hand resting on his shoulder. They were both smiling proper smiles that crinkled the eyes.

His parents had smiled a lot. They’d made an attractive couple, both very good looking. Alex’s brother, Aiden, the eldest, took after their father, with his tall, broad build, handsome face, and peppered brown hair. His sister, Amy, took after their mother, who’d done a brief stint as a model in her youth. Amy had her dark, chestnut-brown hair.

Alex wasn’t sure who he took after most, but was perhaps a watered down version of the two. He had his mother’s blue eyes, but overall, he’d never paid much attention to himself, always more interested in his art.

He examined his painting, almost finished. He just couldn’t get the shine in their eyes right, and that was important. Alex easily heard the knock on the door over his stereo, which was playing the Tchaikovsky collection his mother had given him for his last birthday.

“Yeah?” he called out. He hated being disturbed when he was painting, but not being in his own house any more, he didn’t feel he had the right to tell anyone to go away. The result left him tense, constantly anticipating interruption. He couldn’t lose himself while painting here, and that was what he so desperately needed.

The door opened and his aunt Jane stuck her head in. “Do you want anything more to eat, love?”

“No, thank you, I’m fine.”

“Okay.” Jane lingered by the open door. “I’ll just leave a snack out on the dresser here, in case you need it.”

Alex wished he could tell her to stop fussing. He wasn’t far off seventeen, and just because his parents had died didn’t mean he wasn’t able to fix himself a sandwich if he wanted to. But his aunt and uncle had been kind to him so far, so he forced a smile.

“Thank you.”

“You all set for tomorrow?” Jane asked.

Alex tried to hide his grimace. Tomorrow was his first day at his new school, the same school his little cousins went to. After four months off school after his parent’s unexpected deaths, Alex had tried to go back, to finish his GCE’s, but he couldn’t do it. His classmates had already finished. He was way behind. They’d said he’d have to sit new tests, re-do coursework, so he might as well repeat the last year.

Repeat? In the same school where everyone already knew him? Alex couldn’t bear the thought of them tip-toeing around him, asking him how he was, or giving him sympathetic looks. He knew he probably wasn’t helping matters by being quiet and withdrawn, but how was he supposed to feel? It was as though a light had been switched off inside him, and he couldn’t muster the motivation for anything except painting.

Jane and Tony, his aunt and uncle, had talked with the school, then offered Alex the transfer to their local school. He would still have to repeat the year, but it would be among strangers, and they all felt that it’d give Alex the chance to catch up to where he’d been…

Before the accident.

Alex had agreed, and said goodbye to his private school, to his friends, his teachers. Now he’d be going somewhere where he wouldn’t know anybody. Well, only his little cousins, but they were eleven and thirteen, way below him. If he was lucky, he’d never even bump into them at school.

“Yep,” Alex said, fixing the smile on his face. “All set for tomorrow. Thanks.”

Jane looked at him a moment longer, as if trying to gauge how happy he really was. Finally, she nodded and said, “All right, love. We’re watching TV in the living room if you need us.”

“Thanks,” Alex said again. God, he felt that was all he ever said lately. Not that he didn’t appreciate his aunt and uncle’s help, but putting on a brave face for them was wearing.

Left in peace, at last, Alex finished his painting. He wasn’t happy with it. In fact he was half tempted to paint over it in white and start again. The paint was still wet, even though he’d only used acrylics. The paper was soaked from his constant corrections. He should’ve used oils, but sometimes Alex got frustrated with oils. He was still learning, he told himself, he was allowed to make mistakes.

Sighing, he took the painting off the easel and stacked it against the wall, somewhere he wouldn’t see it. He’d look at it tomorrow with fresh eyes, and decide then if it was worth keeping.
Giveaway rules (always have to have them)
Entries are limited to persons 18 years of age and older. You are stating you are of age by entering.
Just one entry per email address will be counted.
Winners will be notified via email. We are not responsible for incorrect email addresses on entries, alas.
Thank you to Less Than Three Books for generously donating this ebook for giveaway.


Melanie Tushmore

Melanie Tushmore is a British writer who loves live bands and loud music. She can’t hear as well as she used to and now champions ear plugs.

Before music, Melanie was a comic book nerd who rarely went out. Then at age fifteen she stumbled into the world of rock music, where the men had long hair and wore their guitars slung down low. More than fifteen years later, Melanie still loves that world even now and wanted to share her stories from it.


Stay tuned! Melanie will be with us on 9/24, come see what she has to say! 

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Giveaway: WIN Diura by A.J. Llewellyn


duendeBlurb:Kimo Wilder, Hawaii’s top hula dancer, kahuna (high priest) and Keeper of Secrets, is battling with his husband Lopaka over their toddler son. Baby Kimo shows all the signs of being a gifted healer himself and now the Huna Council wants him. On the day of their wedding in California, an emotional celebration of same-sex marriage, the couple realizes they must present a united front. To celebrate their wedding in style and to keep their family intact, the Wilders travel to a remote Scottish castle on the ancient, volcanic island of Diùra. But this is no holiday idyll. Now at war with the Huna Council, Kimo and Lopaka discover long-dormant family secrets and unseen forces determined to both help and destroy them, and send them to an undetermined fate in search of the truth…….

…“I’m sorry.” Kimo made a move toward me.


He ignored me, putting his arms around me and I pushed him away.

“Get undressed and get on the bed.”


I glared at him.

Kimo’s gaze remained on my face as he started unbuttoning his shirt. I went into the bathroom, washed my hands and opened the box. I lifted out the gorgeous, beige colored gossamer wings. My husband was about to get fucked by one very angry angel. I stripped, slipped on the wings over each arm, smiling to myself because my cock was already getting hard.

There were combat boots in the box that completed my outfit. Yeah, this angry angel was about to give his very bad man one very happy workout.

He was lying on the bed waiting for me and he blinked as I stood in the doorway. He swallowed, his gaze fixed on my cock, which was straining toward him.


I stepped on the bed and placed one foot on his chest. “You will suck my cock now.”

Kimo grinned. “I love when you get bossy.”

“In this family, Kimo, you obey the wife. That means me. Do you understand?” His eyes glinted and his cock hardened as I moved my boot down to it, rubbing the head with a shiny boot tip.

“I understand.”

Playing with him a moment more, I knelt on either side of his chest, feeding him my cock which he started to suck, his eyes closed in apparent ecstasy. I took it away from him.


I grabbed the two leather ties I’d stashed under my armpit and tethered his hands to the bedposts.

He moved all over the place to get my cock back in his mouth, but I turned myself around, placing my ass right over his mouth. Kimo moaned, his hot tongue slurping at my ass. I didn’t think I was going to be able to stop myself from coming. The sounds of my man loving me drove me to a frenzy and I fell forward, coming off his face for a brief moment, which made him cry out in frustration.

I quickly moved my ass back to his face. He ate me with the kind of passion reserved for when we first awoke and had been denied each other during our sleep…or when we had one of our rare and painful arguments.

My mouth moved to his cock, which was leaking badly. I wished more than anything he could put babies inside me. He had put Baby Kimo into our friend, Nicky, and our twins, via turkey baster, into my sister, but his cock belonged to me. It even had my name tattooed down the length of it. Still kneeling away from him and facing his feet, I pushed off his face.

“Give it back to me,” Kimo hissed, but I was holding his cock now and I reached down, poking it at my asshole, glancing back to see Kimo’s feverish gaze on his cock, swiftly disappearing into my ass. “Oh, fuck,” he moaned. “Oh, Lopaka…you feel so good.”

I bounced up and down on him and he screamed at me.

“Untie me, I need to touch you.”

“No.” I leaned forward, holding his feet in my hands, kissing the tops of them as he slid into me even deeper.

Anything to do with his feet made Kimo go crazy. “Untie me. Now.”

I shook my head, the sensation of having my husband’s massive eleven-inch cock buried in my ass coupled with our war of wills, making me feel high before either of us had even come. He kept trying to wrench himself free of his restraints and soon released one hand, sending the shattered bedpost across the room.

“Now, you little bitch. I need to teach you a lesson in ownership…”

Giveaway rules (always have to have them)
Entries are limited to persons 18 years of age and older. You are stating you are of age by entering.
Just one entry per email address will be counted.
Winners will be notified via email. We are not responsible for incorrect email addresses on entries, alas.
Thank you to Amber Allure for generously donating this ebook for giveaway.


A. J. Llewellyn lives in California, but dreams of living in Hawaii. Frequent trips to all the islands, bags of Kona coffee in his fridge and a healthy collection of Hawaiian records keep this writer refueled. A. J. loves male/male erotica, has a passion for all animals—especially the dog, the cat and the turtle. A. J. believes that love is a song best sung out loud.

To find out more about A. J., visit or you can email A. J. at

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Giveaway: WIN Why I Love Bodyguards by T. A. Chase


whyBlurb: (Part of the Why I Love… series)… Hilton Burke might be one of the most powerful men in the world, but he can’t seem to get what he wants the most. Every time he sees Cathal McKinley, his head of security, Hilton can’t help wishing they could be more than just employer and employee. He even admits to himself that he just might be in love with Cathal, even though they’ve never even slept together. Cathal McKinley accepts how much he wants his boss, Hilton Burke, but he’s pretty sure there’s no way Hilton will want to date him. They come from two different worlds. And now, having to return to Sunburst, Montana, to deal with family problems, Cathal knows there’s no chance for the two of them to get together. Hilton and Cathal have spent years dancing around each other, but when Cathal needs help, Hilton comes to Montana to back him up. Soon, they’re dealing with children and an old friend who can’t take “no” for an answer. And finally admitting their love turns out to be the least of their worries…….


…Hilton Burke stood in the door of his office, staring, as his head of security, Cathal McKinley, stalked toward him. He shoved his lust for the man deep down inside him. No point in giving the bastard an advantage.

“Mr. Burke, we need to talk,” Cathal announced, as he got close.

“I figured as much when you called to see if I could fit you into my schedule.” Hilton stepped back to allow Cathal entrance. “What other reason would you want to see me?”

Cathal snorted, but didn’t say anything until Hilton had closed the door before he walked over to sit behind his desk. Leaning back in his chair, he steepled his fingers before his lips as he studied Cathal.

“Should I have another reason?”

Hilton shook his head, knowing neither one of them would admit the attraction that simmered between them. He needed Cathal to trust him before he gave anything to the man, and he knew Cathal didn’t think he could trust a man with Hilton’s past and power.

Something had happened to Cathal before he came to work for Hilton, but he never asked because it wasn’t any of his business. He could admit to himself, if no one else, that he wanted Cathal to tell him himself instead of making him look for it.

Hilton came from money, mostly because his father was a bloody genius and had invented new guidance systems for missiles and shit like that. The military complex had scooped all of those ideas up in a heartbeat, making Ambrose Burke a very wealthy man.

Jacqueline Burke, his mother, had been a whiz at finances, so she’d made sure that the money Ambrose made multiplied a hundred times over by the time Hilton had made his appearance in the world. Yet having lived with money hadn’t made his life easy. He’d lost both of his parents in an airplane accident—that ultimately hadn’t been an accident, though only Hilton believed that.

He’d never been told the whole story, not even when he reached his majority and took over the reins of his fortune. He’d allowed the original report of faulty engine failure to stand instead of saying anything about it being murder. Yet the knowledge that there would always be someone out there looking to take his money, power, or even life from him had driven Hilton to build walls around his emotions.

While he understood why trusting someone didn’t come easily to him, he wondered what had happened to Cathal that the man wouldn’t even acknowledge the fact that he wanted Hilton. Of course, he wasn’t about to put himself out there to be rejected either. A man had to have some pride.

“I just finished talking to Dr. Davidson.” Cathal pulled a small tablet from his pocket, then tapped the screen.

Hilton snorted. “You mean you just finished listening to Herb while he talked about everything and anything that flitted through his mind like a butterfly in a field of flowers.”

Cathal’s eyes gleamed with fondness and annoyance for Herb, and Hilton shoved down the flare of jealousy…

Giveaway rules (always have to have them)
Entries are limited to persons 18 years of age and older. You are stating you are of age by entering.
Just one entry per email address will be counted.
Winners will be notified via email. We are not responsible for incorrect email addresses on entries, alas.
Thank you to Amber Allure for generously donating this ebook for giveaway.


T. A. Chase lives a life without boundaries. Being fascinated by life and how different we all are, she writes about the things that make us unique. She finds beauty in all kinds of love and enjoys sharing those insights. She lives in the Midwest with her partner of fourteen years. When she isn’t writing, she’s watching movies, reading and living life to the fullest.

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Contest: Charlie Cochet – A Rose By Any Other Name (Fallen Rose Book 2)


Pantheon Banner HF

Welcome! Please take a seat. A waiter will be by in a moment to take your order. Would you prefer a booth? Those are reserved for… special engagements. Prohibition? No, Sir. No prohibition here. At the Pantheon, the champagne flows freely. Or if it’s spirits you’re after, we have plenty on hand. Whiskey? Scotch? Why yes, Sir. Nothing but the genuine article here. How about some decadent delights after your meal? Blond, brunet, redhead? Whatever you desire, we can provide. Tell our goddess Aphrodite your wildest dreams and she’ll find you the perfect cupid. Oh, it’s a love god you’re after? Well, you’re in luck. The Erotes are about to take the stage. Enjoy the show. When it’s over, you may just be the lucky mortal Eros whisks away to his temple. Good luck.


Pantheon Banner Set 1Hello all! When I wrote A Rose by Any Other Name, I knew I wanted to create my own nightclub rather than use one from the history books. I wanted a place that was more than just four walls.

The Pantheon represents a time and place, as well as the characters who frequent it. It’s flashy and grand with its Ancient Greek style, towering white pillars, plinths displaying busts of Greek deities, and scantily clad cupids getting up to all manner of naughty things. The jazz is always hot and the parties never-ending.

Pantheon Banner Set 2When Edward Joseph Clarence Jr.’s cousin Maxfield plans an evening out to celebrate Edward’s 30th birthday, Edward has no idea what awaits him. Having been abroad for the last five years working for his father’s company, his only experience with the “anything goes” attitude of New York City has been through what he’d read in the papers and the letters he’d received from Maxfield and his best friend Albert. Even while in Paris, Edward didn’t take part in anything remotely scandalous.

From the moment Edward steps foot in the Pantheon, he’s overwhelmed, but not more so than when the love god Eros appears. That’s when things start to get really complicated for Edward. A good portion of the story takes place inside the Pantheon which is secretly tucked away in the Parisian nightclub. At the Pantheon, we get to see a world of debauchery and pleasure. Where jealousy and gossip run rampant, and dangerous men lurk in the shadows. Our sexy love gods might look heavenly, but watch out for those sharp tongues and disarming smiles, or you just mind end up losing your wallets, or worse yet, your heart.


RoseByAnyOtherName[A]200A Rose By Any Other Name
Fallen Rose: Book 2

Genre: M/M historical romance, 1920s
Novel 270 Pgs
Sept 12, 2014
Dreamspinner Press
ISBN eBook:
ISBN Paperback:

Nights in the roaring city remind bright young things that life’s too short to take for granted. Tucked away in Times Square hides the Pantheon: a secret cabaret for wealthy gay men. Pretty young men in elaborate costumes and rouged lips are eager to please, and the champagne flows all night long. It’s a world of frivolity, fantasy, and debauchery. As Eros, the most sought after performer at the Pantheon, Julius uses his beauty and charm on enthusiastic patrons, but growing weary of superficial love, he longs to make a better life for himself.

Five years after being declared mentally unfit after surviving the trenches of No Man’s Land, Edward Joseph Clarence Junior pieced his shattered life back together. Now he’s ready to take on the family empire. To celebrate his thirtieth birthday, Edward’s cousin takes him to the most posh nightclub in town, the Pantheon. Falling under the sway of Eros, Edward and Julius find a love they’ve never imagined and the chance for a future they had only dared to dream about. But as Ares, a notorious gangster and Julius’s most important—and dangerous— client watches them, the threat to their love and their lives grows by the day.


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About the Author:

CCochet100Charlie Cochet is an author by day and artist by night. Always quick to succumb to the whispers of her wayward muse, no star is out of reach when following her passion. From Historical to Fantasy, Contemporary to Science Fiction, there’s bound to be plenty of mischief for her heroes to find themselves in, and plenty of romance, too!

Currently residing in South Florida, Charlie looks forward to migrating to a land where the weather includes seasons other than hot, hotter, and boy, it’s hot! When she isn’t writing, she can usually be found reading, drawing, or watching movies. She runs on coffee, thrives on music, and loves to hear from readers.

Website | THIRDS HQ | Facebook | Twitter | Pinterest | Tumblr | Newsletter

Blog Tour Hosts
11th Sept – The Novel Approach
12th Sept – Dreamspinner Press Blog Release Day Party
13th Sept – Hearts on Fire
15th Sept – Joyfully Jay (Exclusive excerpt)
16th Sept – Attention is Arbitrary
17th Sept – Prism Book Alliance
19th Sept – Sinfully Sexy Book Reviews (Exclusive giveaway)
20th Sept – The Blogger Girls
22nd Sept – Bookwinked

Release Day Blitz – Dakota Skies by Taylin Clavelli


Dakota SkiesTitle: Dakota Skies

Author: Taylin Clavelli

Publisher: Wayward Ink Publishing



Born in the wrong time…

In 1875 Dakota, Sheriff Jamie Carter has to hide his interest in men, even from his gutsy twin sister, Anna. On a good day, the truth can mean a bullet between the eyes, and on a bad, one in the back.

A man on a mission…

Jamie leaves Anna in charge of Blackrock and he hits the bounty hunting trail, along with his faithful equine companion, Houston. Five territories, scores of ‘Wanted’ posters, and many bullets later, his path unexpectedly converges with that of enigmatic loner, Kit Brooks.

Two men with one soul…

Will the smoldering fire between them rage into an inferno and break down protective barriers, allowing them to find love? Or will it separate and kill them?

Beneath Dakota skies…

Jamie and Kit’s story is a sweeping saga of cowboys, Indians, persistent broads, and vengeful villains, where the cowboys aren’t always the good guys, and love can’t be taken for granted.

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About the author:

Taylin Clavelli lives in the United Kingdom, about 15 miles south of Birmingham, and a short journey from the world famous Cadbury’s Chocolate factory. She’s married with children and loves her family with all her heart.

Her love of books has been a long standing affair, with Taylin liking nothing better than to lose herself in an imaginary world.

Until she met Lily Velden, she never considered trying her hand at writing. However, after talking ideas, Lily encouraged her to put pen to paper—or rather, fingers to keyboard. Since, with a few virtual kicks in the right place, she hasn’t stopped. Her confidence eventually led to her writing an original work for submission.

Her first published work was Boys, Toys, and Carpet Fitters, developed for the Dreamspinner Press Anthology – Don’t Try This At Home.

Now she absolutely adores immersing herself into the characters she creates, and transferring the pictures in her brain to paper, finding it liberating, therapeutic, and wonderful.

Outside of writing, her interests include; martial arts (she’s a 2nd Degree Black Belt in Taekwon-do), horse-riding, all of which facilitates her love of a wide variety of movies. Her action heroes include Jet Li and Tony Jaa—finding the dedication these men have for their art combined with their skill both amazing and a privilege to watch. If pressed, she’ll admit to thinking that the screen entrance of Johnny Depp as Captain Jack Sparrow in the Pirates of the Caribbean – Curse of the Black Pearl, and Shadowfax in LOTR, to be the greatest screen entrances ever. Her all-time favorite movies are Star Wars and Lord of the Rings.

The simple things in life that make her day, putting a smile on her face are:

Laughter – especially that of her children.

The smell of lasagna cooking – it makes her mouth salivate.

The dawn chorus – no symphony ever written can beat the waking greetings of the birds.

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H. Lewis-Foster – A Valet’s Duty


a valets dutyAuthor: H. Lewis-Foster
Reviewed by: Lucy
Publisher: Amber Allure
Genre: M/M Historical
ISBN 13: 9781622320882

Rating: ★★★½☆ 

Summary: At the turn of the twentieth century, Henry Simpkins is a valet at Taverslow, the Earl of Wayshaw’s Somerset home. When the Earl’s younger brother, Rafe, arrives from his villa in Italy, Henry is given the task of caring for his mischievous dogs, Pepe and Paolo. As part of his valet’s duties, he also goes to Rafe’s room each night to tidy away his clothes.

One night, Rafe tentatively asks Henry to go beyond his valet’s duty to relieve Rafe’s sexual tensions. Henry enjoys their increasingly intimate encounters, but he’s soon disturbed to find he feels more for Rafe than mere physical attraction. Henry faces a difficult decision, as he knows he cannot remain in the same house as Rafe if his affections are not returned

Review: I admit I was really conflicted on parts of this story. I love historical romance, particularly m/m historical romance. So I was all set to love this. To a point, I did. Henry is a valet for the Earl of Wayshaw and is now responsible for the care of not only the Earl’s brother, Rafe, but also Rafe’s dogs, Pepe and Paolo. As he is wrangling said dogs, he runs into a lovely man coming back from a hunt for rabbits, who finds his predicament with the dogs amusing. Of course, after returning to the house it comes to light that this is Rafe.

Rafe is friendly and open, telling Henry stories as Henry performs his valet duties. It is when Rafe asks if Henry is of the Oscar Wilde persuasion that the story lost a little bit for me, not because of Rafe’s conversation – I thought that was sweet – but because of the impression I got that Henry (while enjoying it) felt it was part of his job as valet. This could be just my point of view on it, however. Even later, with an innocuous dance, Henry has the thought “…but what choice did he have? He was a servant and must do as his master wished.” I myself wish I hadn’t felt that way, because Henry and Rafe both are good men and the story is a sweet one.

Historical m/m romance is difficult because obviously the HEA can’t be as a contemporary but this one is a nice one.

Tracey Steinbach – Gunning For Marie


gunningAuthor: Tracey Steinbach
Reviewer: Vivian
Publisher: The Rooster And The Pig Publishing
Genre: M/F dystopian

Rating: ★½☆☆☆ 

Summary: Several years after the third World War, resources are scarce. The poor are poorer and the middle class doesn’t exist anymore. A man with resources travels from city to town buying teenagers from desperate parents and orphanages. The teens are educated, fed and clothed as appropriate for their end purpose, Soldier or Breeder.

A strong, young woman, Marie Rice, falls for Gunnar Lincoln. Their attraction is forbidden, Marie meant for someone else. Disturbing events on the island lead to Gunnar and Marie looking for a way to escape and save everyone else. While they bide their time, attraction turns to something stronger. Will they escape? Will they save the others?

Review: I was intrigued by the concept of this story. Unfortunately, it missed the mark. There are major issues with world building, character development, and the plot. In addition, awkward word choices and sentences impede the flow:
She didn’t have much longer to be.

They made it through the secret door and down to the basement unmolested.
In the first case, live would be a better choice, and in the second, undetected.

I would have happily ignored these bits and motored along, but the real problem I have with this story is how illogical it was.

They could track the blood if it hit the ground. The blood from her injured feet went unnoticed. Now either the sentence isn’t getting across that she doesn’t notice the blood on her feet or it is stating that it wouldn’t be noticed by trackers which negates the previous statements and concerns about the blood.

Video games were popular among the men of the teams. The females had the option of learning to cook or medical training. Leader training would not have this division. A female could never lead with the perceived inequity in skills. Plus, it turns out that a male co-conspirator takes the same course as Marie.

He had no doubt his soldiers could overtake the puny, overemotional sheep. He would rule the world! Everyone would bow to his genius. He would roll in money, command his warriors and rid the planet of the weak. It’s going to take more than 50 soldiers to do that. Seriously?

Tyson likes to break in subpar warrior girls and any he impregnates will be reared, so how does this makes sense? The implant given to the female warriors prevented pregnancy. Except when it doesn’t.

Two hours later, the young man was laid to rest. Two hours to dig a grave for a pair of people who have experience? No.

Super villain bent on taking over the world doesn’t password his computer?

Live munitions drill with orders to kill or survive using your take-over-the-world with fifty soldiers? Would you choose a crossbow over a gun in this instance?

You’re trained in hand to hand combat and a couple bitch slaps break you?

Unnecessary skulking makes one look suspicious, especially when in the next scene one waltzes through a room with no one paying attention. Since it made so much sense the first time, let’s repeat it. Rescue plan that gets the hostage, but has no plan for where to go after.

Melodramatic, but conveniently well-timed interruption of the ill-fated plan sees the drama llama make a several appearances at death beds. And finally, there are just some inaccuracies about how the Army does things regarding funerals and job placement.

I would have rated this a bit higher if the instances of logic fail weren’t so numerous. While the simple prose and emotional lobotomies of the characters didn’t help, I was willing to write the first off as a YA novel and the second as brain-washing/training. I have difficulty imagining who I would recommend this story to; the military aspects are wrong, the dystopian is barely formed, the suspense barely gets one buzzing, and the romance is non-existent.

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