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New Release – Xavier’s School of Discipline by S. Legend #KindleUnlimited #giveaway

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Book Title:  Xavier’s School of Discipline

Author: S. Legend

Publisher:  Mockingbird Publications

Cover Artist:  Nadia Polyakova and Chiara Monaco

Inner Book Artist: Artsy Ape

Release Date: April 21, 2021

Genre: Erotic M/M Romance

Trope: Soulmates 

Themes: Belonging.  Found Family.  Spanking.  Domestic Discipline. 

Heat Rating:  4 flames

Length: 83 539 words/306 print pages

This is book one in the series but can be read as a standalone.

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Buy Links – Available in Kindle Unlimited

Universal Link  |  Amazon US  |   Amazon UK 

 

“… there’s something tantalizing about trouble and me in it with him.”

 

Blurb

Follow Your Heart’s Discipline Calling

Finnegan Brighton is twenty-seven, has never moved out of Dad’s house, can’t keep a job and has to rely on his brother for continued food and shelter. In a bold move, he ships himself off to one of those new, fangle-dangle, discipline schools hoping to turn his life around. But it’s not just a whim, he’s finally answering a calling inside of him, one he’s ignored until now. The school turns out to be more than he bargained for, giving him a family of men just like him, who want to teach him that he can love himself enough to have everything he’s ever wanted. He just has to do the one thing he’s never been able to do: Surrender. 

Enter Xavier. 

Xavier is the school’s unyielding headmaster and founder. Oh, and he happens to be interested in the one Finnegan Brighton. Surely with the forces of the strict headmaster and Finnegan’s affectionate, if overzealous domestic discipline family, he can overcome himself, his own worst enemy, and surrender to who he is inside, right? Or will his crushing self-doubt chain him to old patterns forever?

Either way, much spanking ensues! A polyamorous love story with brats and Tops.

 

Excerpt 

From Chapter 6

Dammit. I know what to do. I need to do it. As much as Tops are drawn to soothe us … oh fine ‘brats’, us brats are drawn to soothe Tops. I’ve watched Grayson do it a ton, Chris, Bellamy and Johnny too. Even Bray when he’s in the mood. I swallow. “Oh, sir? One more thing. We can still have people over, right?” It’s not against House rules for each of us to have one friend from another House over. If it’s more than that, it turns into a party, which would require permission, but as the rules stand, that means one for me and one for Grayson.

His eyes narrow. “Who?”’

I shrug. “Haven’t decided yet, but there is this hot Top, Nikolage, from one of my harder classes. Maybe he can uh, help me with my homework?” I waggle my eyebrows, suggesting that yes, fucking Nikolage is what I mean. 

His chair slides out, he stands, hands flat on the desk and my heart’s beating so damn fast. I have to take a stealthy breath. Maybe I should abandon the whole thing—I’m poking at a fucking lion and I know it—but I also know in my bones it’s the right thing to do. 

“No.” 

“Why?” I dare to cross my arms at him—a, God … a brat’s red flag, okay?

“Come here, my little Finnegan.” He flashes shark teeth at me. He is predator, I am prey. 

I want to buckle, I want to tell him I’m just kidding, but I’m in too deep now. I commit. “So you can spank me? Forget it. It’s not against the rules. I was kind enough to even run it by you. I’ll be leaving now.” 

I went too far didn’t I? Yep. Too far. 

Xavier clears his desk in a smooth, panther-like leap. I’m quick to respond, gripping either side of the leather chair I was just sitting in, catapulting myself over it. But I was a hockey player, not a gymnast and though my response is quick, my catapulting skills aren’t graceful. I catch the chair and hit my knee, landing like a rock on the other side. “Fuck!” I roll on the ground behind it, licking my wounds. 

How is it I can take one helluva spanking, but this paralyzes me?

Xavier’s there fast, reminding me of Superman, with the way his jacket flares. He crouches beside me. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you. Are you hurt?”

I laugh. “I’m fine. I wasn’t scared.” 

“You were a bit, but … well I thought you wanted me to chase you.” I’ve never seen the man blush, he does now. He can’t even look at me. 

I wait until he braves my eyes again. “Xavier, I did want you to chase me.” 

He stares frozen, my words sinking in, as my heart thumps loud drumbeats into my ears. While I wait for him to come to, I rub my sore knee. It is fine, but there’s gonna be a nice bruise I’ll have to explain to Ani later. I smile thinking of the arnica he’ll insist he has to apply to it. Xavier notices my rubbing. 

“Your knee.” 

“No, Xavier—” 

But it’s too late. He scoops me up and it’s fucking embarrassing how easy it is for him to lift me. It’s not like I’m small. He’s got me bridal style and he swings me around, placing me in the chair and bending down to inspect the knee. I wore loose jeans, he’s able to roll them up to have a look. “Doesn’t look to be swelling, but you’ll ice it anyway when you’re home. Understood?”

He’s holding my knee in both of his elegant hands, which are hot against my skin. I have to look down at him. “I will, sir.” 

I’m kicking myself now. This was a disaster. One point to me on not being a brat, a real brat would have pulled this off, I end up injuring myself. 

“Now that it’s established your knee will be fine, we will address, Nikolage.” His nose wrinkles, his form takes up all the space in the room once again. 

Shit. Already forgot about Nikolage. “There’s no Nikolage. I just said that to—” 

“—I know Nikolage.” 

“I meant there’s no Nikolage for me, sir. I only said that to, never mind. May I go?”

He’s staring at me for a new reason now, a smile spreads slowly, reaching his eyes. He yanks me up. We’re close, my lips aren’t far from his. “I want to spank you so badly right now.” 

That was the goal. “You uh, you can, sir.” My voice is above a whisper. 

“I know. I can spank you whenever I want. But that would not be a good idea. It’s day eight, Finnegan.” 

“I am well aware of the day, Headmaster Harkness,” I say, boldness returning. Two can play the game of cheek, but only one of us will win, we both know it’s going to be him. 

“All right, that’s quite enough cheek from you, brat.” 

I light up everywhere. Maybe him calling me brat isn’t so bad?

“I don’t date people, Mr. Brighton. I own them. Do you want to be owned?”

 

About the Author 

Some of you know her as Mock, others as S. Legend, or Miss S.  She welcomes all names but will often go by Mock, a name given to her by her readers.

Mock is an ambitious creative, weaving the most precious aspects of her soul into stories.  She is an architect, building fascinating worlds, designed from inquiry, rooted in worldly wonderings.  It’s an intuitive process where she is the scribe, the translator, the conduit. 

It helped that storytelling was the language spoken at home.  One simply didn’t say, “We have an ant infestation. ” In Mock’s family it was, “I was on my way to the living room, when a peculiar ant crossed my path.  I looked to my right, a suspicious line of them marched toward the pantry.  In that moment I knew; my kitchen was under siege.”  The natural flow of conversation always took this form.  

And so. 

When Mock wrote her first novel, she didn’t plan it chapter by chapter, there was no outline, no “plotting” to speak of.  But she didn’t “pants” it either, she didn’t make it up as she went along.  She knew how the story felt, where it curved in places and hollowed in others; she knew the destination it rushed toward.  Instead of orchestrating, she let the world inspire her, and held space for the words to come, trusting the characters knew what they were doing.  All she had to do was tell a story, as she always had done; like breathing.  

This is her peace, her healing and solace: Gifts better shared.

Mock’s works are the comfort you seek when you need to come home.  Her unique writing style will take you, wayfaring reader, to unexpected destinations. 

She always says, “I’m not in the business of making up stories, I couldn’t if I tried.  I’m lucky enough to get picked to share someone else’s story when I ask a question to the universe.  Someone answers; I write it down.” 

 

 

Social Media Links

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Giveaway 

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Owned by the Sea by L M Somerton #newrelease #contemporary #gay #romance #giveaway

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Book Title: Owned by the Sea

Author: L M Somerton

Publisher: Pride Publishing

Cover Artist: Emmy Ellis, @studioenp

Genre/s: contemporary gay romance, BDSM

Length: 60869 words/164 pages

General Release Date: May 8, 2018

It is a standalone story.

 

Blurb

Storms pass and, in their wake, new beginnings can be found.

Talented young artist Jonty Trelawn paints the sea as self-inflicted punishment. For almost a year he has hidden away from life, survivor’s guilt consuming him, but the time has come to move on. He conceives the idea of a charity art auction in support of the local lifeboat station and the men and women who saved his life. He hopes the tribute to his family will release him from the sea’s invisible chains.

Carpenter Jed Curnow is bound to the water in a different way. As deputy coxswain of the Govenek, the local lifeboat, his world revolves around the close-knit crew. He thinks nothing of risking his life to save others. Saving Jonty is less dangerous but just as important to him. He wants nothing more than to give Jonty the love and security he needs.

Jed’s dominant personality calls to Jonty’s more submissive nature but will he ever allow himself to be happy? It’s up to Jed and his best friend Marmite to help Jonty put his tragic past behind him and live for the future.

 

 

Buy Links

Pride Publishing

Amazon UK 

Amazon US 

Goodreads  

 

Excerpt

Jonty stood on the swaying deck and took a last, longing glance at the shore. His stomach was already heaving and the Caroline, named after his mother, had only just left the shelter of the bay. The next three days at sea were going to be torment. He hated the annual family ritual that took him away from his painting, but his father insisted on it and, at twenty-five, Jonty still hadn’t found the courage to refuse him. Rex Trelawn, who headed a private bank when he wasn’t torturing his son, had given up on Jonty ever being a ‘proper’ sailor, so Jonty was consigned to the galley with orders to keep the rest of the family fed and watered. He dealt with supplies, stocked the cupboards and made sure the boat was ready for a short sea voyage. He was also responsible for reporting their position to the coastguard at regular intervals, which he managed between visits to the head where his stomach contents insisted on making unwelcome reappearances.

The Caroline was a forty-six footer and manageable with a crew of four. She was just big enough that Jonty could avoid his father for some, if not all, of the trip. Rex always took the wheel while Jonty’s mother and younger sister, Evie, managed ropes and sails with ease. Evie had a sturdy build and relished the challenges of sailing while Jonty favored his recently deceased grandfather, being slight and less than average height. They were a small family, just the four of them, and Jonty found it impossible to refuse the one outing of the year that brought them all together, much as he wanted to. Three days battling his father’s disappointment was not his idea of a fun time.

Jonty slipped below deck to the narrow, claustrophobic galley and began preparations for a light supper. Soup and bread, fruitcake and hot chocolate would suffice—not that he’d be able to eat any of it himself. Just the idea of food made his stomach flip over. The four of them would take breaks and sleep in shifts, sailing out past Land’s End and into the Atlantic during the night. It would be something of an endurance test but Jonty could cope with that. He kept strange hours when he painted, sometimes forgetting to sleep.

His father was first to descend into the cabin, brushing a hand through his windswept silver hair. He shed his waterproofs, hanging them on a peg before taking a seat at the table.

“Wind’s getting up, Jonathon. Be sure to check the shipping forecast later.”

“Yes, sir.” Jonty didn’t need the reminder, but said nothing. He ladled soup into a bowl then placed it in front of his father.

“Not eating?” The usual note of disapproval colored Rex Trelawn’s tone.

“No.” Jonty didn’t expand. His father knew full well that Jonty got seasick every time he sailed.

“Come and join me.”

Jonty held back a sigh. He wasn’t feeling up to defending himself yet again.

“Shaw tells me your earnings are exceptional for such a young artist. He wants more work from you.”

The sigh escaped. “Shaw has no business discussing my finances with you. He’s my agent, not yours.”

“I hope you’re investing well?” Rex waved a soup spoon at him, ignoring Jonty’s objection. “I’ll have to put the rent up on Cliff House.”

Jonty’s family, including his sister who was studying at King’s College, resided in London. Jonty chose to live at the family’s second home in Cornwall where the pure light was perfect for painting. He needed a place of his own where he could cut another tie to his domineering father but somehow he’d never gotten around to house hunting. He didn’t rise to Rex’s taunt. Housing discussions were preferable to those that questioned his ‘dubious lifestyle choices’. Rex Trelawn had never quite accepted his son’s sexual orientation and it was a topic best avoided. When Jonty came out at eighteen, Evie had shrugged, his mother had wept for a while then refreshed her makeup, hugged him then commenced trawling her copious address book for prospective boyfriends. Rex had given him the silent treatment for months until Jonty’s first gallery showing had sold out. He’d proved to have some worth, so they’d reached a truce of sorts.

“It’s time I found a place of my own,” he said. “Property is a good investment these days, isn’t it?”

Rex grunted. Checkmate had been reached. Rex wanted his son as a live-in caretaker for Cliff House, a place where he had a hold on him. Rex knew it and so did Jonty. “It’s time for the shipping forecast.”

Jonty switched on the radio then relaxed into the familiar litany of strange names and wind speeds, paying particular attention to Lundy and Sole.

“It’s brisker than I expected,” Rex muttered. “Bloody weather changes on the toss of a coin. We could be in for a bumpy ride.” He cut himself a slice of fruitcake, grinning.

Jonty’s stomach did a jig. He just made it to the head in time.

An unpleasant five minutes later, Jonty returned to the cabin to find Evie swapping places with their father at the table.

“Have you been worshiping the porcelain god again, big brother?”

“The boy has a weak constitution,” Rex grumbled, disappearing up the steps to the deck.

“And he could eat roadkill on a rollercoaster without retching,” Jonty sniped. “You want soup, sis?”

“Only if you haven’t thrown up in it.” Despite her words, Evie’s smile was sympathetic.

“There’s nothing left in my stomach. Besides, you’re like Dad. You’ll eat anything.” Jonty did his duty with the soup then watched as Evie demolished the entire bowl and two sizeable chunks of bread.

“Hungry work out there.” She grinned. “Dad been giving you grief again?”

“Same as usual.” Jonty shrugged. “He won’t change.”

“Next year when he proposes this trip, tell him to go take a running jump off the nearest pier.”

“So says the favored child.”

“I’m straight, gorgeous, I love sport and will provide him with grandchildren. You are not straight, far too pretty for a man, refuse to cut your hair, you hate sport and you have a talent he doesn’t, which will no doubt make you richer than him. Of course he loves me best.” She raised her mug of hot chocolate in a toast.

 

About the Author 

Lucinda lives in a small village in the English countryside, surrounded by rolling hills, cows and sheep. She started writing to fill time between jobs and is now firmly and unashamedly addicted.

She loves the English weather, especially the rain, and adores a thunderstorm. She loves good food, warm company and a crackling fire. She’s fascinated by the psychology of relationships, especially between men, and her stories contain some subtle (and some not so subtle) leanings towards BDSM.

 

 

Social Media and Links

Pride Publishing  

Website 

Blog 

Facebook 

Twitter @LMSomerton

Pinterest 

Amazon Author Page 

 

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