Tag Archives: Rob Rosen

D.B. and Me by Rob Rosen #giveaway

RECENT RELEASE BLITZ

Book Title: D.B. and Me

Publisher: JMS Books

Cover Artist: Rob Rosen

Release Date: January 20, 2024

Genre: Contemporary M/M Romance, true crime, suspense, mystery

Tropes: Age gap, first love

Themes: First time love, second chances, reconciliation

Heat Rating: 4 flames

Length:  57 000 words

It is a standalone story and does not end on a cliffhanger.

Goodreads

 

Buy Links

JMS Books  |   Amazon US  |  Amazon UK 

 

In the gripping tale of D.B. and Me, the enigmatic hijacker, D.B. Cooper, parachutes into the unknown with $200,000 in ransom money, but little does he know that his daring escape is just the beginning of an unforeseen journey filled with mystery, suspense, and steamy romance.

 

Blurb

In the gripping tale of D.B. and Me, the enigmatic hijacker, D.B. Cooper, parachutes into the unknown with $200,000 in ransom money, but little does he know that his daring escape is just the beginning of an unforeseen journey filled with mystery, suspense, and steamy romance.

D.B., now Tim, finds himself along the banks of the Columbia River attempting to fade into the shadows. However, fate has other plans when he encounters Adam, a charismatic stranger who’s also in hiding. The air becomes charged with anticipation as the two men become entangled in a mysterious dance, each harboring secrets that could shatter the fragile equilibrium they’ve quickly established.

Tim’s initial plans to vanish into the vast expanse of Canada are abruptly put on hold as the magnetic pull of Adam draws him into a world where passion and danger collide. As their connection deepens while they wander through the snow-covered forests of the Pacific Northwest, so does the labyrinth of unanswered questions surrounding their pasts. The suspense thickens with every stolen glance, every shared secret, as Tim and Adam navigate a love affair shadowed by the lingering echoes of several daring crimes, all against the backdrop of the Vietnam War.

As the story unfolds, readers are taken on a heart-pounding journey through a landscape of intrigue, where the line between right and wrong blurs, and the boundaries of love are tested. Will Tim’s past catch up with him, will Adam’s, or will they find a way to rewrite the narrative that destiny has penned for them?

D.B. and Me is a riveting exploration of love in the face of danger, a tale where passion and suspense interweave, leaving readers breathless and eagerly turning each page to unravel the secrets hidden within the folds of this captivating romance. Will Tim find redemption or be swallowed by the sadness of his past? And what about Adam and his troubled family and the ever-nagging reminders of a horrible war that still plague him? Dive into the depths of mystery and desire in this thrilling novel that will keep you on the edge until the very end.

 

Excerpt 

I could hear the door kick in, could hear the rush of them as they swarmed the house. “Move,” I whispered to him.

“Move?”

I grabbed his hand again. This time when we crawled, we didn’t have a choice. If they came with dogs, we were screwed. For now, we had a fighting chance. It was dark as pitch beneath the house, but there was only one way to go: away.

A minute went by, two. No one was following us. The sounds of the police began to fade, though I could still hear them inside the house. Sounded like they were searching for something. The pounding in my chest continued. “Where are we Adam?” I heard from behind me.

I stopped crawling. “Better question, are the police here for you or for me?”

There was the slightest of pauses. “Why you?” he whispered.

“Why you?” I whispered back.

He chuckled. All in all, not perfect timing. “I sure do know how to pick ‘em.”

I kept crawling. “To be fair, I found you.”

“To be fair,” he replied, “I chose to stay.” He sighed. “It was the old man in the store. Had to be.”

We came to the end of the road. Or at least the end of the tunnel. I’d say we were about five hundred feet or so away from the house and deeper in the woods. The tunnel was maybe two feet high and three feet wide. There were clothes stashed there, a couple of jackets, some money, bullets. This was my emergency tunnel. This was clearly my emergency. Or his. Either way, we were now both being chased.

I handed him the clothes in the dark. We got dressed and I pocketed the cash in my wallet, my wallet in my pants. I handed him his wallet. I shoved the gun in the backpack. We again listened for the police. By then, all I could hear was our heavy breathing.

“So,” he said.

“So?”

He tapped my shoulder. “You know how you asked me if I ever had a boyfriend?”

I grinned. The tunnel smelled like earth, but I could still detect the slightest scent of Tim. “You think now is a good time to revisit that conversation?”

I could hear him moving around behind me. I could hear the backpack scraping the tunnel’s walls. I heard it hit the ground. I heard him rummaging around inside it just before I saw another beam of light. Thankfully, it was his, a flashlight lit for me to see, the light now illuminating our dirtied, sweaty faces.

“You look like shit,” I said.

“I don’t feel a hell of a lot better,” he replied. “Will you be my boyfriend, Adam?”

I laughed as quietly as was possible. “I think this might be your oddest segue yet, Tim,” I told him. “The police are chasing one of us. We’re in a tunnel in the woods in the middle of the night. This is not what I would consider a romantic setting.”

He shook his head. He reached up and wiped the matted hair from my face. “Yeah, but will you be my boyfriend, just the same?”

I sighed. “Tim,” I said. “I’d have sex you right now if you asked me. I’d do anything you asked me, in fact. Ours, I would say, does not seem like a healthy relationship. So, yeah, that’s a yes.” I blinked. “There a reason for all this?”

He nodded. “I need to show you something, but I wanted to make sure it was safe to show you.”

“And,” I said, “you figured it would be safer if we were boyfriends?”

His nod turned shrug. “Sounded better in my head, but yes.” He leaned in, kissed me, kissed me again. “Plus,” he said, still panting from our recent exertion, “if I were to die, say in the next few minutes or so, at least I had that. With you.”

“I don’t think we’re going to die in the next few minutes,” I told him. “If they had found the tunnel, we would’ve known about it already. Pretty well hidden. You gotta know exactly where to look.”

“Or listen,” he said. “Because that does explain the groaning I’d so recently heard when I sat in that chair you moved out of the way before we ducked and covered.”

“Old house,” I said. “Groans everywhere. Besides, why even look for a hidden tunnel in a cabin in the middle of nowhere. Seems to me, it’s not the first thought that would come to mind.” Which is why I built it in the first place. Apart from the obvious reason: escape.

“Still.”

It was my turn to lean in and kiss him, then kiss him again. Too bad the tunnel was so narrow, or I could’ve seriously had some fun him. Instead, I said, “Okay, point taken. In any case, for now, we are still alive and newly minted boyfriends, so, care to show me whatever it was you were going to show me?”

“Why are the police chasing you, Adam?”

“I killed a man,” I told him after the briefest of pauses. Felt good to tell him. Felt good to say it out loud. My belly unknotted, if only by a hair.

“You killed seventeen men,” he replied. 

I shook my head. “I killed the eighteenth after those. And here. In the United States, I mean. And why are the police chasing you?”

With his free hand, he reached inside the backpack. When the hand reemerged, it was clenched around a thick stack of bills. I peeked inside the backpack, and all I saw was green. The forest around us quaked in apparent envy. 

“I hijacked a plane,” he said.

 

About the Author 

Multi-award-winning and best-selling author/editor/anthologist Rob Rosen is the author of Sparkle: The Queerest Book You’ll Ever Love, Divas Las Vegas, Hot Lava, Southern Fried, Queerwolf, Vamp, Queens of the Apocalypse, Creature Comfort, Fate, Midlife Crisis, Fierce, And God Belched, Mary, Queen of Scotch, Ted of the d’Urbervilles, Sort of Dead, Genie in a Vodka Bottle, Bobby Ray Breaks the Universe, and D.B. and Me. His short stories have appeared in more than 200 anthologies. You can read some of his best ones in Short Spurts, Short Spurts 2, and Short Spurts 3. He is also the editor of Lust in Time: Erotic Romance Through the Ages, Men of the Manor, Best Gay Erotica 2015 and Best Gay Erotica of the Year, Volumes 1, 2, 3 and 4.

 

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Bobby Ray Breaks the Universe by Rob Rosen #giveaway

RELEASE BLITZ

Book Title: Bobby Ray Breaks the Universe

Author: Rob Rosen

Publisher: JMS Books

Release Date: September 10, 2022

Genre:  Paranormal M/M Romance, Comedy Romance, Mystery/Suspense

Tropes:  Enemies to lovers

Themes:  Emotional growth

Heat Rating: 3 flames

Length: 59 000 words/171 pages

It is a standalone story and does not end on a cliffhanger.

Goodreads

 

Buy Links

Amazon US  |  Amazon UK

 

Good vs. evil, angels vs. demons, and rednecks running wild across the Middle East. What could go wrong?

 

Blurb

What happens when a hunky demon visits you and commands you to break all ten commandments? Or when a handsome angel orders you to do the opposite? And what if you’re Bobby Ray, and you’ve already broken nine of the ten, and thou shalt not kill is a close brick away, and the demon has tacked on a cushy afterlife in hell as a reward? Decisions, decisions. And poor Bobby Ray has never been good at one decision, let alone multiple ones. Broke, divorced, and pretty darn miserable, does he do what’s right or what’s easy? 

In this darkly comical romantic adventure, Bobby Ray, with the help of numerous friends and just as many enemies, one being his ex-husband, travels from Georgia to Israel and ultimately across Egypt and the Gaza Strip in search of the one clue that will hopefully save them all, and possibly the entire world. Will good win out over evil, love over hate? Or will Bobby Ray ultimately break the universe? 

Good vs. evil, angels vs. demons, and rednecks running wild across the Middle East. What could go wrong?

 

 Excerpt 

As I stood over the sleeping man, brick in hand, heart beating a rhythmic drum solo in my chest, a brilliant flash of white light punched me straight in the face. “What the f –” 

“Bobby Ray!” boomed the voice, seemingly from all directions. “Though shalt not kill!” 

“Well, not yet, anyway,” I replied. “Wait just another minute.” I tried swatting the blinding light away, but, well, it was light, so swatting didn’t seem to do the trick. “That thing got a switch?” I didn’t know who I was talking to. I guessed this was all my subconscious, some sort of guilt trip I was laying on myself for killing my neighbor Tom. Or trying to. But with my eyes watering something awful, I was having a bit of a hard time of it. Maybe I shouldn’t have had the bourbon beforehand. Or finished the bottle. And smoked a joint to calm my nerves. But see, I liked Tom. Right on up until I found out that he was sleeping with my husband, I liked him. Or, okay, to be fair, my ex-husband, but still. 

“Bobby Ray!” again boomed the voice, the floor beneath me suddenly rolling like a wave. “Though shalt not kill!” 

Funnily enough, the voice didn’t sound like mine. I’d have thought my subconscious would’ve sounded something like me, but nope, not even close. Also, Tom wasn’t moving. And the voice was fucking loud, and the waving floor was still waving, and the bed was waving right along with it, but Tom was still lying there snoring. Ambien, I figured. Had to be. In any case, I set the brick down next to him and wiped my eyes with my sleeve. Soon as I did that, the lights went out in Georgia — Georgia being where we were at the time and not simply the lyrics to a catchy old song. 

“What the f –” I repeated as my eyes focused on the apparent source of the booming voice. “Shouldn’t have mixed the bourbon and the pot.” I wiped at my peepers again. And again. Only, the angel floating in front of me with his massive wings spread out and a sort of pale glow all around him wasn’t blinking away as I had hoped. “I bet that pot was laced with something. Shouldn’t have bought it off that stranger at the bar. That was my first mistake.” 

The angel grinned. As grins went, this was one was quite, well, angelic. Duh, I suppose. “It doesn’t even break the top one hundred mistakes you’ve made, Bobby Ray.” 

I shrugged. “Yeah, it hasn’t been a good year for me.” Understatement. Of the gross variety. 

The angel folded his wings and stepped a foot closer to me as just his toes touched the ground. He was tall, almost seven feet, if I had to take a guess. Handsome as all get out, too. Smooth as alabaster and naked as the day he was born. Though I was guessing he hadn’t ever really been born, what with him being an angel and all. Either that or I was hallucinating. Or I was dreaming. I was betting on one of those last two. 

“It hasn’t been a good life, either, Bobby Ray.” 

And still, I shrugged. Or maybe I hadn’t stopped from the previous time. “I blame my parents for that.” 

The angel shook his head. “Honor thy father and thy mother, Bobby Ray.” 

I snickered. “Have you met the Beauregards? Flies keep their distance. Too shitty, even for them.” I glanced at the brick. I figured I could take this guy if need be. He didn’t look like the fighting type. Flying, sure, but not fighting. 

“The Lord said to honor thy father and thy mother, Bobby Ray, and so honor you must.” 

I sighed. Tom was still fast asleep. Probably dreaming of Matty, my ex. 

“Seems kind of a waste of time to honor the likes of them,” I told the angel. “They wouldn’t even appreciate it. Don’t much like that I’m gay, but honoring sounds sorts of pansy-ass. Their words, not mine.” And those were nice words in comparison to their usual words. 

The angel moved a step closer, a step closer still, tippy toes dragging the floor. He was now standing directly in front of me — or maybe it was closer to hovering, really — leaning down, in. I stared into eyes blue as the heavens. Go figure. It was, in fact, a bit like looking into eternity itself. “Your parents sound delightful, but be that as it may –” 

I held up my hand. “I get it, I get it. Honor. Don’t kill. Blah, blah, blah.” I squinted up at him. “You visit everyone who’s about to break a commandment? Because I’d have thought we would’ve met a hell of a lot sooner than now.” 

The angel straightened his back and moved an inch in reserve. Up until that moment, he looked, I don’t know, sort of at peace. All angelic looking. Like he didn’t have a care in the world. But just for a second, I could’ve sworn I saw a flinch of pain. Maybe it was my choice of words. Or word. Hell, I mean. 

“I –” he said, but suddenly got cut off. 

No, there wasn’t a bright light again. I was glad for that. My eyes were still watering from the first one. This time, there was a puff of foul-smelling smoke, very fire and brimstone stinking. I mean, I guess. Not like I’d smelled brimstone before. Not that I even knew what brimstone was. In any case, I coughed, rubbed at my nose as the black cloud disappeared to reveal what I assumed was a demon. I mean, the guy was red all over and had horns protruding a good foot from his temples, so demon was probably a good guess, as guesses went. Plus, I already had an angel, so a demon seemed logical. As much as anything did right about then, I mean.

 

About the Author 

Rob Rosen is the author of the award-winning novels Sparkle: The Queerest Book You’ll Ever Love, Divas Las Vegas, Hot Lava, Southern Fried, Queerwolf, Vamp, Queens of the Apocalypse, Creature Comfort, Fate, Midlife Crisis, Fierce, And God Belched, Mary, Queen of Scotch, Ted of the d’Urbervilles, Sort of Dead, and Genie in a Vodka Bottle, and editor of the anthologies Lust in Time, Men of the Manor, Best Gay Erotica 2015, and Best Gay Erotica of the Year, Volumes 1, 2, 3 and 4.

 

 

Social Media Links

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an ebook copy of Bobby Ray Breaks the Universe

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New Release – Genie in a Vodka Bottle by Rob Rosen #giveaway

RELEASE BLITZ

Book Title: Genie in a Vodka Bottle

Author: Rob Rosen

Publisher: JMS Books

Release Date: November 6, 2021

Genre: Speculative M/M Romance, Mystery, Adventure

Tropes: Genie, Enemy to Friend, Magic

Themes: Searching for love, forgiveness

Heat Rating:  4 flames   

Length:  139 pages/56 000 words

It is a standalone story and does not end on a cliffhanger.

Goodreads

 

Buy Links

Amazon US   |   Amazon UK 

Barnes & Noble  |  Kobo  |  Google Play

 

A funny, frisky, and frequently heart-pounding genie romance and adventure novel!

 

Blurb

Mysterious forces are at play when Paul’s vacation to Spain unexpectedly detours to Gibraltar and then Morocco, to a vodka bottle in a hole in the wall bar, to a handsome genie with a slew of secrets, plus almost limitless powers, virtually no memory, and a keen desire to be freed from his curse. Along the way, Paul is reunited with his ex-lover and the genie’s previous master as fate draws them ever deeper into a murky, dangerous past.

On our heroes travel, from the frigid north of Russia to a magic carpet ride across China, ultimately finding themselves in the deserts of ancient Jordan. Here, they encounter another of the genie’s previous masters and a power far greater than they could’ve ever imagined, all within a massive temple carved into a mountainside. Can our intrepid foursome uncover the truth before the curse takes them all and possibly the entire world down? Will love win out in the end? Or is the genie forever doomed to a life foretold in fairy tales?

In this funny, frisky, and frequently heart-pounding adventure, only one thing is for certain: magic can happen even without three wishes.

 

Excerpt 

The bottle was still in my hand. I reached for the cork. I gave it a pull. It didn’t budge. I pulled again, harder this time. Nope, nothing. That cork must’ve been in there a long, long time, I figured. I stood up, placed the bottle between my knees, wiped the sweat from my palms and grabbed on tightly to the cork. Then, seeing as where I was, grunted, “Open sesame,” and gave one final, massive yank.

POP went the cork.

“Oh fuck,” went I.

I mean sure, the bottle was open, but, um, well, time was suddenly standing still. Like totally still. Nothing was moving, not the fans, the waitress, not Omar, who was pouring a drink that was suspended in midair. Though me, yeah, me I was moving. Or least my heart was. Super-fast, in fact. Energizer Bunny fast.

“Oh fuck,” went I, yet again.

Because now the vodka bottle was pouring, only, it wasn’t pouring vodka. And the pouring wasn’t obeying the laws of gravity because what was being poured went out and up as opposed down and down some more. Plus, the vodka bottle should have been pouring liquid but appeared to be pouring gas, a massive white cloud of it tinged with swirls of various shades of blue and, if I wasn’t mistaken, which I wasn’t, lightning. I mean, I knew lightning when I saw it, it’s just I’d never seen it being poured from a vodka bottle before.

The cloud spread, the blue becoming purple, then red, then all the colors of the rainbow at once. It looked like what you saw in an oil slick, greasy and blending and bleeding. And then the room I was in was all cloud, and it was just me in the cloud, me and the vodka bottle and the cloud of smoke and lightning and rainbow. The hairs on my neck stood on end as I tried to take it all in, but how do you take in a cloud, especially when it’s all around you, choking you, engulfing you completely as if it were a living, breathing thing? And you could feel it, too. The power of it.

“Oh fuck,” went I for the third time. Because now I was not alone in the cloud, and the eyes that had been staring back at me from the label on the bottle were no longer on the bottle and were no longer the same eyes. And the face on the bottle had a body, a different body, a new body, and the body was big, and the body was torso on top and cloudy solidness down below, and the face was above mine, and the eyes were staring down upon me, boring through me, piercing what felt like my very soul. Or maybe that was me being a bit overdramatic, but how can you not be overdramatic at a time such as that?

“Master,” boomed the voice that erupted forth from the mouth in the face, the cloud all at once swept from the still-stagnant room. The half torso, half solid cloud still floated above me, still churning in color and lightning and a slight tremble of thunder that reminded me of our drive through Spain, me and Omar number two.

“Paul,” I managed to squeak out.

The face tilted ever so slightly. “Paul? What is a Paul? I do not know this word.” The voice again boomed, rattled my bones, shook the fillings in my mouth. The voice was deep as the ocean, heavy as a boulder, pressing down upon me with each vowel and syllable that was uttered.

“Paul,” I said, sitting back down in my chair. Or falling back down in my chair. Probably the latter. “That is my name. Paul.”

The cloud-man craned down, the eyes barely a foot away. “Paul,” came the voice in a whoosh that washed over me like a tidal wave, the exhale smelling of spices and earth and incense. If you bottled it, it’d sell well. I had a bottle in hand, but, like the room around me, I was sort of also frozen to the spot, and so bottling, at least for the time being, seemed out of the question. “You have freed me, Master Paul.”

I blinked. He did not. He had eyes the color of fresh moss, skin the color of The Rock back in Gibraltar, perhaps a shade darker. He was shirtless, dense with smooth muscle from chest to arms to hands to fingers. And despite the obvious power of him, he looked young, my age, give or take. And as for the cloud below him, it swirled like a cyclone, shooting off sparks as he hovered there. He was beautiful. He was fearsome. I needed to pee. Badly.

 

About the Author 

Rob Rosen is the author of the award-winning novels Sparkle: The Queerest Book You’ll Ever Love, Divas Las Vegas, Hot Lava, Southern Fried, Queerwolf, Vamp, Queens of the Apocalypse, Creature Comfort, Fate, Midlife Crisis, Fierce, And God Belched, Mary, Queen of Scotch, Ted of the d’Urbervilles, Sort of Dead, and Genie in a Vodka Bottle, and editor of the anthologies Lust in Time, Men of the Manor, Best Gay Erotica 2015, and Best Gay Erotica of the Year, Volumes 1, 2, 3 and 4.

 

 

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Giveaway 

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an ebook copy of Genie in a Vodka Bottle

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New Release – Sort of Dead by Rob Rosen #giveaway

RELEASE BLITZ

Book Title: Sort of Dead

Author: Rob Rosen

Publisher: JMS Books

Cover Artist: Written Ink Designs 

Release Date: October 31, 2020

Genre/s:  Contemporary M/M Romance, Paranormal M/M Romance,

M/M Romantic Comedy, M/M Mystery

Trope/s: Ghost story

Themes: Redemption, unfinished business

Heat Rating:  3 flames  

Length: 65 200 words/ 182 pages

It is a standalone story.

Goodreads 

 

Buy Links

JMS Books  |  Amazon US  |  Amazon UK 

 

Because sometimes it takes dying to have the time of your life.

 

Blurb

Nord wakes up to find himself sort of dead. Well, that is to say, he’s dead, alright—murdered, in fact—but not in heaven, at least not yet. In this limbo-like state, he meets Max and learns that everyone there is waiting for the final poof, hopefully to a better place. Only, with unfinished business back in the real world, like bringing his murderer to justice, Nord’s poof is nowhere in sight. And so, he and Max set out to find the killer and make things right again. Of course, that’s easier said than done when you’re nothing more than a couple of randy spirits.

With the help of Voltan, a diminutive mystic with a predilection for turbans, and Clark, a nerdy computer geek eager to shed his loner past, plus a ghost accountant, Bruce, Bruce’s drag queen brother, Eve O’Destruction, and Nord’s kick-ass mom, the newly enamored pair set out to hunt for the murderer, and are quick to discover how much they’d taken for granted when they were alive. 

In this hysterically funny and often poignant mystery about fate and love and family, it ultimately takes dying for our heroes to have the times of their lives.

 

Excerpt 

I woke with a start and stared up at the ceiling. “That’s weird,” I said. “Where’s my ceiling fan?” I blinked. I blinked again. I thought to make it a trio, but then realized I hadn’t blinked the first two times—which is to say, I blinked but there wasn’t that whole ceiling, no ceiling, ceiling, no ceiling thing, which is what happens when I blink and I’m staring up at my ceiling. Not that what I was staring at was a ceiling to begin with, but still.

I continued staring up. I supposed what I was staring at was white, given that it looked white, and I supposed that what I was staring up at was a ceiling because, give or take, most ceilings are white, mine included, but the white I was staring at sort of shifted around a bit. FYI, my ceiling didn’t do that, except perhaps when I was drunk.

“Did I get drunk last night?” I asked myself. Only, I couldn’t remember last night. I couldn’t remember going to sleep, even. I remembered waking, but that was it. And I didn’t feel drunk. In fact, I felt great. Better than great, actually. Blissful would’ve been a good word for it. Light, too. As if I’d been weighed down and now I wasn’t. “Free at last, free at last, thank God almighty—”

“You can try, but He doesn’t seem to listen,” I heard, then jumped in place.

My head whipped right. Nothing. My head whipped left. “Um, how did you get in my…” My what? This wasn’t my room. This wasn’t my ceiling. Was what was above me a ceiling anyway? “Wait, who doesn’t seem to listen?”

The man to my left grinned. He looked about my age, early thirties, give or take, nice looking guy, too. Very Bradley Cooper like, stunning blue eyes and all. He was prone. He was lying next to me. He was naked. I stared down at my body. I, too, was naked. I continued staring down. There was no bed. There was my body, there was his body, there was that shifting white. “Don’t freak out,” he said.

My heart wasn’t madly pumping in my chest and I wasn’t sweating, but I felt like I was freaking out, nonetheless. Especially because my heart should’ve been madly pumping and I generally start to sweat when I’m freaking the fuck out. All that is to say, I was FREAKING THE FUCK OUT!

“I’m freaking the fuck out!” I shouted his way. “Who are you? Where are we? Why is the wall and ceiling and floor shifting?” I blinked. It felt like I blinked, but I didn’t get the right effect again. “And where are my fucking eyelids?”

“You get used to that,” he replied.

I sat up. That is to say, I tried to sit up. Only, I didn’t think I was actually lying down, and you can’t sit up if you’re not lying down to begin with. “Stop the ride,” I squeaked out, “I want to get off.”

I was still staring at him. He was still grinning. “Give it a minute,” he said. “Takes about five minutes for all of it to right itself.”

“All? What all?” I continued staring. It seemed like a minute went by. I was no longer lying there. I was standing. He was standing next to me. The not-a-ceiling was now not-a-wall, and it was still shifting, and I was, duh, still freaking out, fuck and all.

“You were lying down before you got here, so it seemed like you were lying down when you arrived. Get it?” He said it very comfortingly. I felt less than comforted. Very. 

“Dude—”

“Max.” He held out his hand. I shook it. I felt his hand in mine. There was indeed comfort in that.

“Nordstrom,” I said.

He laughed. He had a nice laugh. He had a nice grin. Max seemed nice. “Did your mom have a penchant for upscale shopping?”

I shook my head. “I was born in one. And my mom had a penchant for making sure I was teased well into adulthood.” I let go of his hand. “Nord. My friends call me Nord. Otherwise, they don’t get a Christmas present.”

 

About the Author 

Rob Rosen is the a author of the award-winning novels Sparkle: The Queerest Book You’ll Ever Love, Divas Las Vegas, Hot Lava, Southern Fried, Queerwolf, Vamp, Queens of the Apocalypse, Creature Comfort, Fate, Midlife Crisis, Fierce, And God Belched, Mary, Queen of Scotch, Ted of the d’Urbervilles, and Sort of Dead, and editor of the anthologies Lust in Time, Men of the Manor, Best Gay Erotica 2015, and Best Gay Erotica of the Year, Volumes 1, 2, 3 and 4.

 

 

Social Media Links

Blog/Website  |   Facebook

 

Giveaway 

Enter the Rafflecopter Giveaway for a chance to win

a PDF copy of Sort of Dead

a Rafflecopter giveaway

 

Hosted by Gay Book Promotions

 

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New Release – Ted of the d’Urbervilles by Rob Rosen

RELEASE BLITZ

Book Title: Ted of the d’Urbervilles

Author: Rob Rosen

Publisher: JMS Books

Release Date: January 18, 2020

Genre/s: Contemporary M/M Romance, Comedy/Humour, Erotic Romance, Dark Comedy, Gay/Straight romance

Themes: e.g. Personal growth, poor to rich

Heat Rating: 4 flames   

Length:  63 600 / 195 pages

It is a standalone story.

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Love is Love—though who they will find it with remains a mystery until the very end!

Blurb

Ted is an orphan, a young gay man living on the streets following the death of both his parents. Hope seems futile, though hope is exactly what he finds when a surprising email informs him that an unknown wealthy relative has died, that a reading of a will is soon to occur clear across the country. Ted will inherit something, but what that something is remains to be seen. 

Benny is a young, homeless drug addict, straight except for when cash is involved. Benny has never had a reason to be hopeful about anything until a chance encounter with Ted. 

Both men are soon traveling together from state to state, making ends meet however they can, rushing to the reading of the will that may or may not change both their lives forever. An unexpected friendship quickly forms, and then just as unexpectedly blossoms into something more as their adventure ultimately leads them to their fates. 

At turns darkly funny and tragic, deeply erotic and poignant, Ted of the d’Urbervilles uniquely shines a light on the phrase Love is Love—though who they will find it with remains a mystery until the very end. 

 

 Excerpt 

I found myself in a tangle of trains. Not passenger trains, but the kind that carries stuff. Coal, lumber, crates. No train cars. Nothing I could hop into so much as on. I wasn’t counting on this. I thought I’d slide open a door and bum a ride. But a ride to where? Even if I could hop on, where would I wind up? I clearly hadn’t given it enough thought. To be fair, my head was full of Chuck at the time, a peg missing its hole. It was, as analogies went, a fine one.

I needed to travel east. East I could figure out. East was away from the Rockies. But all the trains were parked. Which way were they headed once they left? And what if I hopped on and the train never stopped until its destination? What if we started east and then headed south?

I sat on the track. My salvation was somewhere in front of me. Eeny, meeny, miny, which one would the mo choose?

“Where you headed?”

I jumped. I fell backward. I stared up, shielding my face with my hand. A guy stood there staring down at me. He was on the dirty side, young, like me, gaunt, shorter by a foot. I’d seen men like this around San Francisco. I avoided men like this. You wound up homeless for a lot of reasons. You also stayed homeless for a lot of reasons. This guy either started or wound up that way because of drugs. His hand twitched. His right eye did the same. Manic would’ve been a good word for it. Or a bad one.

“Just looking,” I said as I righted my butt back on the tracks. “I like trains.”

I turned away from him. I hoped he’d take the hint. Sadly, he sat down next to me instead.

“You can’t hop them,” he said. “They check. They’re watching you right now even.” He pointed up to a lamppost. I could see the camera. It didn’t matter; there was nothing to hop into. And even if I could make it on top of a car, it would be crazy dangerous. And windy. And cold. Not an adventure so much as an ordeal. “Benny,” he said, holding out a hand. He had long nails. Dirty nails. His current state had always been a possible future for me. I seemed to always be running from it. But in which direction, away or towards?

I didn’t shake his hand. I nodded his way instead. “Ted.”

He put his hand by his side. He frowned. I felt bad. I was homeless. He was homeless. It wasn’t a bond so much as a prison sentence we shared. “Where you headed?” he repeated.

“New York.”

“That’s where I started.”

My heart pulsed. If he started from there, he knew which way to head. I pointed in front of me. “Which one goes that way?”

His grin returned. His teeth were in need of a brushing. He looked like a scrawny, shorter, pimplier Justin Bieber—if Justin Bieber hadn’t showered in a week or had a haircut or shave in ten. I felt bad for Benny. I felt scared of Benny. Were people scared of me when they saw me? I was judging a book by its cover, but covers are a pretty good indication of what’s inside. I sensed Benny was rotting from the inside out, that all he had left was a tattered cover. I didn’t want to be a part of Benny’s story, but our plotlines had intersected just the same.

In any case, he shrugged. “Been in Denver a month. My train has long come and gone.” Again, he pointed. “That one goes east.”

“How do you know?”

The shrug hadn’t moved. “That terminal is a dead end. Trains enter that way and go back the way they came. That train came from the east. Do you have any drugs on you?”

It was an unsettling segue. Benny was unsettling. You could turn a bend and wind up like Benny. Benny had no hope. You could see it in his eyes. That is to say, you couldn’t see it. “I don’t do drugs.”

“Smart.”

“You shouldn’t do drugs.”

He rested his head on his knee. “Yep.”

“It’s not that easy though, right?”

He turned his face my way. He’d been cute once. You could see it if you tried. How many people still tried? “Nope. Any money for drugs? I could trade you.”

I knew what he had to trade. I had the same thing to trade. “I have less than six dollars on me.”

He sighed. He turned his face back to the starting position. “Figures.” We sat there in silence. The trains didn’t budge. Maybe this was a graveyard of sorts. Maybe trains came here to die. Maybe Benny came here to die. Me, I had other plans.

 

 

About the Author 

Multi-award-winning and best-selling author/editor/anthologist Rob Rosen is the author of Sparkle: The Queerest Book You’ll Ever Love, Divas Las Vegas, Hot Lava, Southern Fried, Queerwolf, Vamp, Queens of the Apocalypse, Creature Comfort, Fate, Midlife Crisis, Fierce, And God Belched,  Mary, Queen of Scotch, and Ted of the d’Urbervilles. His short stories have appeared in more than 200 anthologies. You can find 20 of them in his erotic romance anthology Good & Hot. He is also the editor of Lust in Time: Erotic Romance Through the Ages, Men of the Manor, Best Gay Erotica 2015 and Best Gay Erotica of the Year, Volumes 1, 2, 3 and 4.

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