Today is my stop on the Gay Book Promotions blog tour for the second chance sports MM romance Dual Threat Love by Lola Noire. ​Enter the Rafflecopter Giveaway for chance to win a copy of the ebook on Kindle!

Will Patrick, now a Superstar NFL Quarterback, be willing to give Ace a second chance? Or will old pain and Patrick’s high-profile personality stand in the way?
 
Blurb

Ace, the Billionaire Heir and Patrick, the Help’s son, met when they were sixteen and thirteen years old, respectively. What started as childhood friendship forever altered their lives for better and for worse. Faced with misunderstanding and miscommunication, they went their separate ways hurt and heartbroken.

Years later, they met again. This time, the Billionaire CEO is determined to win his best friend and the love of his life, Patrick, back.

While Ace is determined to rekindle this love, will Patrick, now a Superstar NFL Quarterback, be willing to give Ace a second chance? Or will old pain and Patrick’s high-profile personality stand in the way?
​
Whether together or apart, both men will fight to the bitter end for their version of happily ever after.

Excerpt from the Prologue

Ace

Patrick and I met years ago during a summer vacation at my family’s villa on Highland Beach in Boca Raton. Patrick was 13 years old and I was 16 at the time. As usual, my parents had been fighting. My mother was miserable in our home on Long Island, so she decided to take a trip to Florida to get away from my father and his latest mistress. I could have stayed in New York and hung out with my friends or I could have traveled to any place in the world of my choosing. However, I decided to accompany my mother. Blame it on the soft spot I had for that frail-looking, pill-popping, pale lady.

A few days into our vacation, the grand villa felt more like a four-by-four shoebox. I was bored out of my mind and on the verge of losing my shit. Taking pity on me, Ms. June, the housekeeper and Patrick’s mother, told my mother that her second son, Patrick, her baby boy, as she fondly called him, who was around my age, was also home doing nothing for that summer.

“If that’s okay with you, Mrs. De’Rochard, I can bring him with me to work so that Ace can have someone around his age to talk to,” she suggested.

“That would be lovely if you could, Ms. June,” Mother replied without any hesitation.

“Pat is a good boy, so they should get along.”

“I hope they do. Again, thank you for your thoughtfulness.”

While Mother and Ms. June readily made plans for Patrick and me, I was a bit apprehensive. It wasn’t that I was scared or did not want to meet Ms. June’s son. The truth was I’d had limited contact with Black kids in my young life and I had no idea what to expect. It wasn’t like I didn’t know anything about Black people. I lived in New York City, for crying out loud. However, my inner circle had consisted of only a few selected friends from similar social, economic, and racial backgrounds as me, strategically handpicked by my parents since I was very young.

As the sole heir to the multi-billion-dollar De’Rochard Empire, I had learned early on to be cautious of the constant danger that lurked around me. The risks of being approached by individuals with ulterior motives, being kidnapped, or worse yet, being murdered by someone who had a vendetta against my family were ever-present.”

I was only five years old when my nanny of three years had conspired to kidnap me in exchange for $10 million in ransom. It took the FBI and my parents’ private security team less than 2 hours to locate us in Buffalo, New York and whisk me to safety. Leonora and her boyfriend, the apparent mastermind of the scheme, were arrested. Unfortunately, they did not live long enough to face a judge. My father had made sure to make an example of them just in case someone else might have had a similar idea. Father had been the only judge and jury of that case. The Crusader Disciples had acted as the executioners. My own personal security team was assigned to me soon after, which consisted of no less than three guards and they’d been with me ever since.

To say the least, I was anxious about meeting Patrick. All day I kept thinking that I should lay off the news as the media often portrayed young Black men living in the inner cities as less than favorable. My father’s views on Black men were also not the prettiest, to put it lightly. So, sue me if I had never dealt with any Black people except for some of the help. The night before Ms. June brought Patrick with her, I got really edgy as endless “what-ifs” ran through my mind. I finally fell asleep in the early morning hours only to be plagued by dreams of different adverse outcomes of meeting Patrick.

“Hi, I’m Patrick,” said the small boy standing next to Ms. June by the theater room’s door in a soft and sultry timbre.

I looked up to the most beautiful brownish-hazel eyes that I had ever seen that were covered with unbelievable long lashes.

“Ace… I’m Ace,” I replied a few seconds too late, not realizing that I was staring. I quickly reached for his extended hand that felt so small in mine as I held it a bit longer than I should have.

“You boys, have fun!” Ms. June shouted as she went about her business.
Pat did not pull his hand from mine. Instead, he glanced at our hands with a raised brow. I quickly let go and said the first damn thing that came to mind.

“So, you and me the whole summer, hmm?”

“Looks like it.”

Our eyes met. He smiled, and all of my nervousness was forgotten. What a smile he had! His plump, pink lips covered a mouth with perfect white teeth. His eyes were full of mischief that was made more noticeable by his smile. I marveled at his beauty. His dark chocolate complexion seemed to radiate under the hot Floridian sun. I found myself staring at him too many times during that summer. I didn’t know why, but I could not wait to see him walk back through the door the next day each time he would go home.

Soon, I felt comfortable enough around him to be myself and talk about anything. We would talk for hours and never get bored. We talked about our respective lives. Unlike other people, Pat, the short name I soon began to call him, never asked me about my fortune. He only asked about New York City since he had never been there before; and he expressed a desire to see Central Park. I told him about my friends, school, and some of the countries I’d visited. Like typical teenage boys, we talked about girls and celebrity crushes.

I taught him how to play chess, poker, and countless games on my PlayStation3. He was a quick learner, and it did not take him long to start beating me at the games I had taught him. He eagerly reciprocated my lessons by showing me how to play dominos and lidos. Unlike me, Patrick was into sports. He played both basketball and football. He’d managed to get me play a few games even though that wasn’t my thing. It didn’t matter what we were playing because for that summer, as long as I was playing with Pat, I was happy. Also, we both were excellent swimmers so we spent countless hours at the beach or the heated indoor pool trying to outdo each other. I liked our swimming sessions the most because I could steal glances at his body without any restriction. I particularly liked the tingling sensation in my stomach whenever our bodies touched while we wrestled around.
​
Patrick was obsessed with the X-Men series. I quickly learned that Wolverine was his absolute favorite character. He could not wait for X-Men Origins: Wolverine to come out the following summer. He shared that his older brother, Lamar, whom he seemed to idolize, had gotten mixed up with a gang and was now serving a three-year prison sentence for possession of narcotics with the intent to sell in a school zone. I noticed the sadness in his eyes when he talked about his brother, and it broke my heart to see how much he was hurting.

About the Author

Born in Haiti and bred in Brooklyn, NY, Lola Noire is a passionate fan of all things sports and has a love-hate relationship with traveling. Lola is an alumna of Niagara University, John Jay College, and National University of Ireland, Galway.

Lola Noire is the author of the debut novel, Dual Threat Love, an interracial M/M sports story.

Connect with Lola Noire on Facebook.

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Shaw isn’t his friend—until Ross discovers he’s so much more.
 
Blurb

Ross Stanton is having a bad week—a bad month—really, a bad year. But the last thing he wants, after the betrayal of his friend and business partner, is for anyone else to know just how much he’s fighting for survival.

He’s struggling to keep his food truck and to maintain appearances, but what Ross doesn’t realize is that Shaw Finley, the bartender from the Funky Cup, has seen right through his charade.

Shaw offers the couch in his apartment over the bar, suggesting that saving money on rent might help salvage Ross’ failing prospects.

Even though he doesn’t really consider them friends, Ross discovers that Shaw is great to talk to, easy to look at, and he likes him. Late nights and lazy mornings and evenings with only the polished wood of the bar between them lead to an attraction that Ross can’t deny—and that Shaw doesn’t even try to.
​
But falling in love isn’t as easy as falling into bed together, and Ross isn’t even sure what he feels is love, until he figures out that it couldn’t possibly be anything else.

Excerpt 

Shaw removed his glass, replaced it with a full cup of water and ice, and then a moment later he was back, with a plate full of delicious-smelling food.

“Steak and mushroom hoagie, with horseradish aioli,” Shaw said, depositing it in front of him, “and our famous sweet potato fries.”

“They’re famous?” Ross wondered, even as he realized he had heard people talking about them.

“According to our Yelp reviews,” Shaw said. “Can I grab you anything else?”

Ross was about to ask for napkins, because the sandwich looked absolutely delicious but also messy, but then one appeared next to him, like Shaw had known he’d need it.

“I think I’m good, thanks,” Ross said, and picked up the sandwich. It had a surprising heft to it, and he had to give Jackson and Shaw credit—they’d revamped the kitchen and the work they’d put in showed. When he took a bite, he was even more impressed, half a dozen flavors exploding across his tongue as he chewed spiced sliced steak working in perfect complement to the earthiness of the mushrooms.

“You’re nodding over there,” Shaw said, his voice teasing. “Is that a good or a bad thing?”

Ross finished chewing and swallowed. “Really good,” he said. “I’m impressed.”

“Wow,” Shaw said, looking surprised. Too surprised.

“Am I really that notorious?” Ross asked, before he thought better of it. He ate a handful of sweet potato fries and they were really good too. “That picky?”

He didn’t really want to hear the answer; he really didn’t want to hear Shaw’s answer.

“Not exactly notorious,” Shaw said, returning to slicing his lemons.

“Then what exactly?”

Shaw sighed and put down the knife.

“You’re gonna get me in trouble,” he said with resignation.

“I am?”

Ross almost told him to forget it. After all, hearing the truth was probably not going to be all that enlightening and might actually make the next few months of living together uncomfortable.

Shaw smiled then, and it wasn’t the same smile he gave to all the random guys at the bar. It was softer, sweeter, more genuine somehow. Ross had never seen it before, and it hit him somewhere deep, a place where he hadn’t felt much of anything in years.

Maybe the last time had been when his grandmother had smiled at him, over pots and pans and pie dishes.

“You gotta know that you’ve got the best food at that whole lot,” Shaw said. “Objectively. The other food there is good, don’t get me wrong, but those guys? You know why they keep you at arm’s length? They’re all terrified of you, though they’d rather die than admit it. You’re brilliant. You should be working in the best, the fanciest, the most expensive restaurants, and instead you’ve got this food truck and it’s just amazing. Every time I go to Basket, I’m blown away.”
​
“And,” Shaw continued, leaning over, his blue eyes twinkling again, and Ross’ breath caught in his throat, “you’re gonna get me in trouble, because Jackson would have my ass for not thinking Alexis serves the best food on the lot.”

I love Beth Bolden’s m/m foodie romances, and Wheels Down was another adorable, sweet and heartwarming story about learning to trust, being brave to share your deepest secrets and the empowering love of found families. You can find my gushing reviews for Wheels Down and the previous books in the Food Truck Warriors series here:

Drive Me Crazy
Hit The Brakes
On A Roll
Full Speed Ahead
Wheels Down

About the author 

A lifelong Pacific Northwester, Beth Bolden has just recently moved to North Carolina with her supportive husband. Beth still believes in Keeping Portland Weird, and intends to be just as weird in Raleigh.

Beth has been writing practically since she learned the alphabet. Unfortunately, her first foray into novel writing, titled Big Bear with Sparkly Earrings, wasn’t a bestseller, but hope springs eternal. She’s published twenty-three novels and seven novellas.

Connect with Beth Bolden

Website • Facebook • Twitter • Instagram • BookBub • Newsletter Sign-up

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Happy release day to By the Blood of Rowans by Xan Van Rooyen! Today is my stop on the MCMT Tours celebrating this lush, queer YA fantasy for fans of Anna-Marie McLemore and Maggie Stiefvater. Enter the Bookstagram Giveaway to win an ebook copy of By the Blood of Rowans and I Heart Robot by Xan van Rooyen!

Synopsis

The Sheehy witches are the most feared and detested family on the island of Inisliath, and none more so than Rowan.
 
As a deathwalker, Rowan ferries island souls to the Otherworld, experiencing their deaths and carrying their memories like ghosts within him. It’s a fated role he accepts even as it inexorably destroys him.
 
When the magic on the island starts to seep away from the other founding families, everyone blames the Sheehys—especially when islanders start dying.
 
Ash is sick of their father’s fists and constantly having to apologize for who they are. Life on Inisliath might be the fresh start Ash and their mum need, and meeting soft-spoken, curly-haired Rowan feels like the ray of sunshine Ash has desperately needed—but everything goes sideways when Ash’s mum becomes lead detective on a series of ritualistic murders allegedly tied to island magic, and Ash’s family history.
 
The islanders are convinced Rowan is guilty, but Ash refuses to believe it. When Ash does some investigating of their own, they discover Rowan is far more likely to be the next victim. With time running out to save Rowan, Ash will have to choose between a life free of their father or the boy they’re starting to love. Meanwhile Rowan will have to decide just how much he’s willing to sacrifice to save his family from the darkness about to be unleashed on the island.

In this lush, queer YA fantasy the Sheehy witches are the most feared and detested family on the island of Inisliath, and none more so than Rowan. As a deathwalker, Rowan ferries island souls to the Otherworld, but when the magic on the island starts to seep away from the other founding families, everyone blames the Sheehys—especially when islanders start dying.

Full review to come!

​Enter the Bookstagram Giveaway to win an ebook copy of By the Blood of Rowans and I Heart Robot by Xan van Rooyen!

Synopsis
 
Leroy Madden is in trouble. Big, handsome, Fox Carmody trouble.
 
Leroy has buried his attraction to the enigmatic fisherman in irritation and pointless bickering, keeping Fox at a safe distance. But with the troublesome man now living in Leroy’s house, it’s becoming impossible for Leroy to keep his true feelings hidden, or the fact that Leroy isn’t so straight, after all.
 
Leroy hungers for something different between them. He wants more. But Leroy’s business is struggling, his newly mended relationship with his brother is at risk, Fox doesn’t plan to stay, and their mothers are lovers.
 
Regardless of what Leroy’s heart so desperately wants, his entire world is at stake, and nothing about a relationship with Fox Carmody was ever going to be easy.

Excerpt
 
I stole a sideways glance to where Fox lounged in the passenger seat of my Hilux, his interested gaze soaking up the countryside. The worst of the Monday morning traffic was behind us and the driving was easy, not that you’d know it by my white-knuckled grip on the steering wheel.
 
Sister Sledge streamed through the speakers, Fox’s fingers tapping away on one thickly muscled thigh wrapped in tight stonewashed denim. A fashionable rip mocked me from just above the knee, revealing the faintest glimpse of tanned skin and short dark hair, not that I was looking.
 
Yeah, right. I was soaking that shit up like sugar in hot coffee.
 
The universe was definitely fucking with me. Well, that and my mother who’d arrived for Sunday lunch with a surprisingly edible peach cobbler and what she called the ‘best idea ever’ for me to give Fox a lift into Whangarei the next day since I was already going. He wanted to check out some boats, but his car was still waiting on parts.
 
Fucking wonderful. Why he couldn’t wait for his own vehicle to be fixed wasn’t a question I was prepared to ask based on my mother’s I-dare-you look. I’d caved and agreed.
 
I could’ve killed her. And by the constipated look on Fox’s face at her suggestion, I was pretty sure he felt the same. It had been a long, long weekend and entirely my own damn fault. Other than forced interaction at work, rugby training, and Sunday lunch, I’d avoided Fox at all costs, and he’d been good enough to play along and pretend he hadn’t noticed, other than a notable drop in temperature whenever he looked my way. I could hardly blame him for that. If only he knew that my epic arseholery stemmed from lust and not disgust.
 
And the Academy Award for epically fucking yourself goes to . . . yeah. Enough said.
 
Note to self: don’t get tipsy around the guy. Without the benefit of way too many beers, we wouldn’t have talked and got all chummy on the deck, and I wouldn’t have realised that I maybe, actually liked the bastard, not just wanted to kiss him, or touch him, or have him touch me, or . . . goddammit, wait for the drum roll—fuck me.
 
I swallowed hard. Me fucking him would, of course, be marginally more acceptable to my brain, but who was I kidding? I’d spent the entire weekend thinking, fantasising, googling, watching, and yep, definitely him fucking me. Good God, the sooner he was out of my house the better. Still, it sounded like it wouldn’t take much to get him to shift back down south, so I could only hope.
 
“You okay, Leroy?”
 
My gaze jerked his way. “Fine. I’m absolutely fine,” I lied, because no, I didn’t want to go there, or talk about it, or think about it, or do anything other than bury it as unsuccessfully as I’d done for the last five days, make that a year—my, doesn’t time fly—because I’m chickenshit as all hell and my life is a fucking shitshow of irony.
 
Why now?
 
Why him?
 
Why . . . this?
 
Bisexual. I’d even practised saying it in front of the mirror, barely able to spit the word out as it sat huge and sour on my tongue. It wasn’t that I hated the man-on-man part, because I was clearly on board with that in so very many, many Fox-shaped, lickable ways. It was more that the admission held an extremely unflattering mirror up to the jerk hypocrite that I’d been, and very likely still was, my entire life.
 
Whoever said sexuality was a choice, I needed that fucker’s address and a suitably sized cactus to shove where the sun don’t shine.
 
My head had been buried so far in the sand for so long that I had grit coming out my arse, and that shit had to stop. After my appalling behaviour in the kitchen, I’d sulked and pondered long and hard over the weekend and gotten more than my money’s worth from my broadband provider. It all came with an uncomfortable realisation. The infatuation I had with Fox wasn’t going anywhere, and that meant either making myself and everyone around me miserable or pulling it into the light and stop running. How had I completely missed this rather critical aspect of my nature?

And then it occurred to me, maybe I hadn’t. I had the pieces, but nothing or no one had caused them to fall into place, until Fox.

About the author

Heart, humour and keeping it real.
 
Jay is a 2020 Lambda Literary Award Finalist in Gay Romance and her book Off Balance was the 2021 New Zealand Romance Book of the Year.

She is a New Zealand author writing mm romance and romantic suspense, primarily set in New Zealand. She writes character driven romances with lots of humour, a good dose of reality and a splash of angst. She's travelled extensively, lived in many countries, and in a past life she was a critical care nurse, nurse educator and counsellor. Jay is owned by a huge Maine Coon cat and a gorgeous Cocker Spaniel

Connect with her here: Find Jay in all the places

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Gay Book Promotions is hosting a LGBT Romance Giveaway of 41 separate stories from 30 authors. Claim your free books from some of the registered authors of the GRL 2021 Retreat here!

The giveaway runs from September 1 - October 31 with stories that are written by authors attending the GRL Retreat, the must-attend event for people who create and celebrate LGBTQ romance. If you love gay romance, you’ve come to the right place! This is an amazing opportunity to discover new authors, new books, and new series—and find new favorites!

The stories have various themes, tropes and heat ratings, including contemporary, paranormal, mystery, fantasy, shifter, historical, sports...

​While all of the authors with stories in the giveaway will be attending the GRL Retreat 2021, there may also be additional authors who were unable to participate. Here is a list of the participating authors:

AJ Sherwood • Andrea Hughes • Anna Kensing • Beth Bolden (already one of my favorite authors) • BL Maxwell • Charity Parkerson • Charlene Newcomb • Debra Sutton • Drea Roman • Eden Winters • Eliot Grayson • Gail Z. Martin • Hank Edwards • Jacqueline Gray • Jamie Lynn Miller • Jenny FitzGerald • Kaje Harper • Kris Jacen • ​LA Bryce • Luna David • Merry Farmer • Miski Harris • Morgan Brice • Neil Plakcy • Nicole Dennis • Patricia Logan • Rain Carrington • Riley Long • Shane Morton • Shea Balik

Today is my stop on the Xpresso Book Tours Book Blitz for Combustible by Al Riske. Enter the Rafflecopter Giveaway for a chance to win a $25 Amazon gift card!

Synopsis

​It’s that summer between the end of high school and the start of something else. Dean Stockton and Curt Hutton are best friends, and more often than not you can find them rowing on the Rogue River at dawn.
 
Together they experience something they will never be able to describe adequately. But then they won’t really need to. Not to each other. It’s that moment of swing when rowers find the rhythm and everything falls into place. The shell seems to lift right out of the water.
 
Enter Isabelle Smiley. She’s beautiful yet insecure, knowing yet innocent, and crazy about Curt in a way that no girl has ever been crazy about Dean. She wants Curt to choose a college closer to home than the one he and Dean have selected—and she can be persuasive.
 
“I’d never be able to hold out against a girl like Smiley,” Dean admits.
 
“Don’t say that,” Curt replies. “I told her she’d have to convince you, too.”
 
Everyone is conflicted in this story of friendship, lust, and life-changing choices. Only one thing seems certain to all of them: If Smiley strikes a match, Dean will catch fire.

Excerpt

All the Way to France
 
The Sandpiper Bar & Grill overlooks the mouth of the Rogue River, and right now the parking lot is jammed with cars. A red Mustang convertible—the top down, for this is a starlit night in June—circles slowly to the back door.

In the kitchen, the scene is a whirl of cooks, busers, and dish washers. Wearing an apron and a floppy chef’s hat, Dean cuts into a fresh cheesecake and passes a slice to the server waiting in the pantry window. Above the din, a line cook hollers--

“Stockton, you’ve got visitors out back.”
                         
Fellow pantry cook Victor Lee is shucking littleneck clams next to Dean, who says--
                         
“Cover for me, will you?”
                         
Backed into a loading zone behind the restaurant, Curt’s freshly waxed convertible couldn’t be shinier. The girl from Brookings is still seated on the passenger side; Curt opens the door for her.
                         
Dean takes off his hat as he pushes through the screen door. He runs one hand through his hair, sweaty from the heat of the kitchen, while his eyes stay glued to the girl’s legs as she climbs out of the low-slung car. Her dress—white with tiny black polka dots—rides up and he can see all the way to France. She blushes but there’s reason to believe she is more pleased than embarrassed.
                         
“Dean, I’d like you to meet Isabelle—oof!”
                         
Curt’s date removes her elbow from his rib cage. “You know I don’t like that name," she says.
                         
“Well, how am I supposed to introduce you?”
                         
She turns to Dean—“Just call me Smiley,” she says. “That’s my last name but it’s what everybody uses.”
                         
They shake hands. Hers are soft and smooth—so much so that it’s unsettling.
                         
“What’s wrong with...?”
                         
Smiley cringes, so he doesn’t say her first name. “It reminds me of my grandmother,” she says. “I was named after her, actually, but I can’t stand her. The feeling’s mutual, I’m sure.”
                         
“You don’t look like an Isabelle anyway.”
                         
“Thank you.”
                         
Only two words, but they say Dean is exactly right—and Curt is just… mean.
                         
“Busy tonight?” Curt asks.
                         
“A madhouse. But I think we’ve got it under control now. How was the show?”
                         
Curt holds his hand out flat, palm down, and tips it from side to side. Smiley looks appalled at his lack of enthusiasm.

“She cried the whole time,” Curt says.
                         
“Well, it was sad... but I liked it,” Smiley replies. “You should see it, Dean.”
                         
Since Dean doesn’t have a girlfriend and has never been to a movie alone, he’s not sure what to say.

Connect with Al Riske

Website • Instagram • Goodreads​

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Today is my stop on the Gay Book Promotions Tour celebrating the release of the intriguing coming-of-age and gay awakening story Land On Me by Matthew R. Corr. Enter the Rafflecopter Giveaway for a chance to win your own signed hardcover copy!

His secret could cost him everything.
 
Blurb

Landon Griffin has everything going for him. He’s a high school senior on the brink of receiving a football scholarship, his dad is running for mayor of Madison, Texas, and his future with his girlfriend looks bright. But his simple life shatters when feelings spark for a guy he’s never met. Giving the stranger the codename Mystery Boy, Landon hesitates to step out of his comfort zone to solve the mystery.

Living in a conservative town, he struggles to hide his new obsession while trying to figure out where he fits within the spectrum of sexuality. Can he dodge the constant questions from his friends and find answers before the escalating anxiety becomes too much to handle?

Land On Me is Matthew R. Corr’s debut novel akin to the drama of Christopher Rice and the coming-of-age brilliance of Alex Sanchez.
 
Excerpt

​OPENING HOOK
​
My ears rang. I’d heard gunshots in movies, but in real life, they are louder than you’d expect. My elbows locked and my arms shook. I wanted to drop the gun, but my entire body was frozen in place. All I could smell was the scent of hot metal emanating from the barrel of the weapon. My mouth was too dry to speak, and I could hardly swallow. I desperately wanted to reach out to make sure he was okay, but there was so much blood. It was so red, and it was coming out so quickly. I didn’t want to shoot him but he wouldn’t have stopped otherwise. Tears welled in my eyes. His blood was on my hands now.

This was an intriguing coming-of-age story and a gay awakening triggered by a mysterious bad boy. It was also a story dealing with heavy topics such as the loss of a parent, bullying and homophobia, as well as the struggle to find yourself, which was powerful and gripping. And I certainly do have a thing for bad boys with a good heart…

​Read my full review here: Land On Me

After countless performances on stages across the country, his passion for writing finally stepped into the spotlight. Matthew is a huge nerd for film and everything Marvel-related. He currently lives in Brooklyn, NY. Land On Me is his debut novel.

Connect with Matthew R. Corr

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Enter the Rafflecopter Giveaway for chance to win one of two signed hardcover copies or one of two digital copies of Land On Me!

Today is my stop on the Gay Book Promotions Tour celebrating the release of the heartwarming gay sports romance The Red Zone by Beth Bolden. Enter the Rafflecopter Giveaway for chance to win a $25 Amazon gift card!

Spencer’s deep in the Red Zone and it’s time to even the score.

Blurb

Nine years ago Spencer Evans became the first player out of the closet to be drafted into the NFL. Everyone believed he had aspirations to change the world but all Spencer ever wanted to do was play football for a team that accepted him wholeheartedly. But they never would, and Spencer began to conceal all the parts that made him different.

When a terrible injury forces him to re-evaluate his life and his choices, he realizes there’s only one man who can help him.

The very first gay sports agent, Alec Mitchell has given his life and his career to making queer athletes’ dreams come true. He can’t help but think of Spencer as the one who got away—professionally and personally.

Alec thought he’d buried his desperate longing for Spencer ages ago but it turns out it was just lying dormant, waiting for the right spark. When he begs Alec to take him on as a client, everything they’ve been burying for years surfaces once again.
With Alec’s help, Spencer can change everything about his life he’s come to hate. An extraordinary future—and an undeniably extraordinary man—are waiting for him.

The play has been called. All he has to do is catch the ball and score.

Excerpt

“You should try my wine,” Alec said, gesturing towards the bottle. “You said you don’t drink wine, not that you don’t like wine. And this is an easy drinking red, real fruit forward, not too many tannins on the back end.”

“Is this how you want to do this?” Spencer asked suspiciously. “Make me try things I don’t think I’m gonna like?”

“How will you know, if you don’t try?” Alec hesitated, and slid his jacket off, hanging it over the back of one of the barstools. “Come over here. I’m not going to bite.”

Spencer shot him a look, full of heat, and Alec remembered why it was probably better not to take his jacket off and why it was definitely better not to make jokes that could be taken in any kind of sexual context.

Well, he’d done it and he wasn’t going to take it back. If they couldn’t figure out how to make this work, then Spencer wouldn’t get what he needed—and Alec wanted that more than anything else.

“Fine,” Spencer said with a sigh. He skirted around the edge of the kitchen island, approaching hesitantly as Alec tilted the half-full glass in his direction.

“Isn’t there supposed to be a special way I do this?” Spencer asked as he took the glass.

Alec raised his eyebrow. “A special way? You take a sip. Swallow it. Decide if you like it or not. Though, really, you should try it twice. The first sip will clear your palate from that god-awful beer you’ve been drinking.”

“That’s what I mean,” Spencer said. “I don’t want to do it wrong.”

“Not drinking it, that’s doing it wrong,” Alec said, even though he knew what Spencer was referring to. But all of the swirling and the legs and the aroma, all the self-important recital that true wine connoisseurs participated in was only going to confuse Spencer. Alec just wanted him to fucking try it.

“Alright, fine,” Spencer said, grumbling, and lifted the glass to his lips.

Spencer made a face, and Alec said, “Nope, not yet. Don’t tell me you don’t like it yet. You’ve got to clear your palate.”

“How do I do that?”

Alec put his hand on Spencer’s arm, stopping him from handing the glass back. “Take another drink,” he instructed. “In a minute.”

When he pulled his hand back, he could still feel the heat and solid strength from Spencer’s forearm. He was going to have to get used to all this touching and personal connection, and hopefully when he did, it wouldn’t affect him this strongly.

“Alright,” Spencer agreed. “It wasn’t . . . well, it wasn’t what I thought it’d be.”

“You didn’t hate it,” Alec guessed, leaning against the edge of the countertop.

“I thought I would,” Spencer confessed. “Wine’s just so fancy and complicated, and I’m not . . . I’ve never been either of those two things. And beer is fine.”

“Beer is fine, sure. You might not dislike it. But what if you liked something else better?”
​
“I don’t know,” Spencer agreed. He hesitated, and Alec watched him closely, even though it almost hurt to look at him like this. So unsure and vulnerable and wanting so hard to do the right thing, the best thing. “It’s why I asked you to do this.”

This is the third book in the Riptide series, but it also connects this series to the Food Truck Warriors series in an amazing way. I really love the way Beth Bolden keeps giving us glimpses of the characters from her previous books and how she’s created her own universe by weaving her stories and characters together without making the story plot less understandable if you’d jump straight into this one as your first read. I’m especially happy that my favorite Food Truck Warrior couple Chase and Tate played quite an important role in this book. They have a special place in my heart since Hit the Brakes was my first Beth Bolden book and completely blew me away!

The Red Zone was an adorable and heartwarming story about second chances, the power of love and acceptance, and about being brave enough to risk your whole career for a chance of true love and happiness.

Read my full review here: The Red Zone by Beth Bolden

About the author

A lifelong Pacific Northwester, Beth Bolden has just recently moved to North Carolina with her supportive husband. Beth still believes in Keeping Portland Weird, and intends to be just as weird in Raleigh.

Beth has been writing practically since she learned the alphabet. Unfortunately, her first foray into novel writing, titled Big Bear with Sparkly Earrings, wasn’t a bestseller, but hope springs eternal. She’s published twenty-three novels and seven novellas.

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Always the wingman, never the “one”.
 
Blurb

Nathan, a college student with a thing for funky hats and a definite not-thing for the great outdoors, has been a wingman extraordinaire for his lifelong best friend Lorcan for as long as either can remember. With his innate ability to talk endlessly about how great Lorcan is to anyone who’ll listen, Nathan has always been the best man for the job—even if he’s secretly waiting for the day when Lorcan will realize that Nathan is the only guy for him.

But then, Lorcan sets his sights on Miles, the suave, leather-jacket-wearing musician with a love of mountaineering and a family of six overprotective sisters, and Nathan must once again put his wingman skills to work.
​
Trouble is, Nathan is getting tired of the old routine, and Miles is the only human being on the planet immune to Lorcan’s charm. Not to mention that Miles’s interest is immediately piqued by the outspoken and completely oblivious wingman.

Excerpt

Nathan blinked blankly at his best friend.

“My help?” he parroted, not quite getting what Lorcan was suggesting. It wasn’t as though he could go up to this Miles guy and talk his ear off about Lorcan to encourage him to make the first move. They’d already met; they’d spoken. If Miles was interested, he’d make a move.

Hope stirred in Nathan’s chest.

If Miles was interested, why hadn’t he already made a move?

“Yeah, I need you to do your thing.” Lorcan nodded, looking at Nathan expectantly, as though that would make Nathan whip out a ready-made action plan on how to get into Miles’s pants.

“Dude, I do that so you can talk to them without doing the awkward introductions yourself.” Nathan spoke slowly, as though explaining how to draw a straight line to a child. “You’ve already covered that.”

“Well, then think of this as a part two,” Lorcan allowed with a huff, probably because Nathan was making very valid points. “I don’t know if he’s even into guys.”
Nathan frowned thoughtfully. Normally, it was easy to tell if someone was into Lorcan. Or at least to Nathan. He liked to think his dad’s perceptiveness had been inherited—to a lesser extent, of course, because Nathan was good, but he wasn’t that good—enough that he made a great wingman to other people, not just Lorcan. Hell, a few of the people in their friend group had asked for his help before.
It wasn’t as easy, sure. But Nathan had a pretty high success rate. A few of them in happy, long-term relationships to boot.

Maybe he should have business cards made.

Nathan Reed—will get you laid.

Nathan shook off that thought as quickly as it had come because that made him sound like a matchmaker, and he was decidedly not experienced enough to consider that as a career path.

“So you…what? Want me to meet him and suss out if he’s interested?” Nathan tried talking slowly, one brow apprehensively raised.

“Yeah!” Lorcan grinned. “Exactly. Work your magic.”

Nathan huffed out a laugh, rolling his eyes at Lorcan’s enthusiasm about Nathan’s apparent “magic.” It wasn’t magic; it was just knowing how to talk to people. Specifically, talking to people about Lorcan. Who, in Nathan’s opinion, was the easiest thing in the world to talk about.

Sometimes, on very good nights, Nathan didn’t have to do as much. Sometimes, the woman would know exactly why he was approaching and just cut to the chase. He always appreciated those; they made his life a lot easier.

“Okay, I’ll do you this one favor.” Nathan sighed, clearly teasing. There were no favors between them. No one kept tabs over who owed the other what. “Now drive me somewhere to get food. I’m starving.”

Lorcan laughed, his mood clearly elevated from earlier. Even that was enough to settle Nathan a bit more. Sure, his brain might still be working overtime on limited sleep, but Lorcan’s coming-out experience had been painless for him, and that was something at least.

“Your wish is my command,” he quipped back, starting up the car and taking them to their usual haunt.

There was nothing better than getting food with Lorcan. Lorcan was a picky eater, while Nathan happily consumed anything deemed edible. Which meant Nathan tended to get extra of whatever Lorcan didn’t like, and no food was wasted.

Win-win all around.

But this time, the experience was different.

Nathan hadn’t been worried about any uncomfortable silences or lapses in conversation after being away for so long, and he’d been right not to.

But he never thought to be worried about Lorcan never shutting up.

Which, under normal circumstances, would have been fine. But these weren’t normal circumstances.

Lorcan wouldn’t stop talking about Miles.

In the last half an hour, Nathan learned more about the guy than he ever wished to. His gut twisted with each and every new fun fact presented to him, his shoulders drawn tighter and smile more strained.

So far, Nathan learned the following:

Miles was a musician.

A lot of people were musicians, especially in LA; it wasn’t a big deal. In fact, Nathan had taken piano lessons for an entire week and could still successfully play “Twinkle Twinkle.”

Miles was a graduate from Juilliard.

Nathan might have asked Lorcan to repeat himself because there was no way he’d said Juilliard.

But he had. And that was fine. Juilliard was a college just like any other. Saint Andrews was nothing to scoff at either.

Miles was adopted.

It made sense. Probably adopted into a wealthy family with plenty of connections, considering the Juilliard thing (fucking Juilliard).

Miles’s eyes were this unusual gray color.

Lorcan spent a great deal of time talking about the color of Miles’s eyes. (There were only so many ways to describe stormy gray with flecks of brown, Nathan groused, please move on.) Anyway, Nathan had been told that he had unique eyes. Granted, they’d been compared to a swamp before. But still. Swamps had a bad rap—they had frogs.

But no, Lorcan clearly had a thing for smoke-colored eyes now, not gunky-green.

Miles was hugely involved in environmental activism.

​Nathan recycled.

This was such a fast-paced and fun mm romance! I binge-read it in just a few hours, so smitten by the charming story and the adorable characters, not the least the wonderful father-son relation that was utterly heartwarming!

Read my full review here: The Wingman

When they’re not daydreaming of the next meet-cute, A. works as a video producer and a full-time dog mom to her pride and joy, Gizmo.

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Synopsis

I had stars in my eyes and I couldn’t see around them…
 
The year is 1995 and my parents have finally allowed me to take the summer to tour in a VW van across the country with my boyfriend Evan and our band. Yes, my dream to be a singer became reality. Even with Clarissa, Evan’s jealous ex-girlfriend, as the lead singer, it’s my presence on stage that led us to a major record deal. There are moments you’ll always remember in life, but I can’t imagine anything more cool than hearing your song on the radio for the first time.
 
But being a Rockstar isn’t as easy as it sounds. Using alcohol and drugs as coping mechanisms, nothing but tension surrounded me, hurting my still blossoming relationship, and continued grieving over my sister’s death.
 
A love letter to the nineties and a journey of a girl becoming a woman, Grenade Bouquets charts the rollercoaster ride of a band primed to explode on the scene, as long as they keep from actually exploding.

Grenade Bouquets was a breathtaking rollercoaster ride that was sad and hopeful, heartbreaking and heartwarming, gripping and addictive with relatable and authentic characters, as well as a brilliant love letter to the nineties era! 

​This series is such a raw and honest tale about the nineties and a troubled girl’s journey to find herself and heal. It’s both sad and upsetting at times, but also so hopeful and full of the magic of music. Just like in the first book in this series, the writing style had such a wonderful flow and authenticity, and the concept with the chapter titles being the songs on Nico’s mixtape was brilliant in the way each song matched the mood of the chapter.

Read my full review here: Grenade Bouquets

After graduating with an MFA from the New School, his writing has also appeared in The Millions, Vol. 1 Brooklyn, LitReactor, Monkeybicycle, Fiction Writers Review, Cagibi, Necessary Fiction, the anthology Dirty Boulevard, The Montreal Review, The Adirondack Review, The New Plains Review, Underwood Press and others. He is the editor-in-chief and co-founder of Fringe, dedicated to publishing fiction that’s outside-of-the-box. His pilots and screenplays have been finalists in Script Pipeline, Book Pipeline, Stage 32, We Screenplay, the New York Screenplay, Screencraft, and the Hollywood Screenplay contests. He is the co-curator of The Guerrilla Lit Reading Series and lives in New York City.

Connect with Lee Matthew Goldberg

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About the tour

Find all tour dates and more here: Xpresso Book Tours Grenade Bouquets