Love’s Home by Iyana Jenna


Book Name: Love’s Home

Author Name: Iyana Jenna

Author Bio:

Iyana writes M/M short stories and novellas. Her works have been published by Evernight Publishing, JMS Books, Books to Go Now, Torquere Press, Bitten Press, Leap of Faith Publishing, Breathless Press, and Alfie Dog Fiction.

Iyana lives in Jakarta, a city famous for its traffic jams, a lot of cars and motorcycles, and people selling stuff on the roads. You can spend two hours on the road going to a place you can reach in half an hour in a normal situation. Thanks to the traffic jams, though, Iyana can come up with a lot of stories, mostly shorties, as she prefers to spend the time during her trips writing into her cell phone rather than sleeping.

Another thing Iyana loves is kitties. Right now she has three of them. Their names are Cil, Horus, and Betsy, and one kitten. When she doesn’t write, she plays with them, or they would play with her when she writes.

Author Contact:






Publisher: JMS Books

Cover Artist: Written Ink Designs |


Sometimes you need a break, to get away somewhere, but in the end you always return to a place you call home. The saying goes, “Home is where the heart is.” It doesn’t matter if it’s big or small, pretty or shabby, what matters is it’s your Love’s Home.

This collection features five of Iyana Jenna’s best-selling gay contemporary romance stories. A homeless PA finds a home in an actor’s life. An abduction almost steals a man from his loving boyfriend. A love triangle nearly ruins everything. A sex slave is rescued by an unlikely savior. A young man discovers a new home after he loses everything.

Contains the stories:

  • A Home for Jesse
  • A Single Black Rose
  • Misunderstandings
  • Will and Pleasure
  • Ya Like That?



A Home for Jesse

This ain’t so bad. Jesse pats his laden backpack. He stretches himself on the bench and lowers his head onto the bag, grimacing at the bumps pressing against his head and neck. Awesome. He is going to have major cricks and headaches come morning. That is if he’s not suffering from early signs of pneumonia.

Jesse shifts and grunts and finally gives up. He sits up, takes off his jacket, and spreads it over his front before he lies down again. Moving a bit again to find the most comfortable position, he thinks, Fuck, now my shorts are stuck in the crack of my ass. Jesse reaches down and pulls them free — ah, that’s better.

He takes a deep breath. So he’s a bum now, is he? His ma would be heartbroken if she knew. She could blame him for being such a hard head and insisting on having his own way. Jesse stares blankly at the leaves swaying on treetops, at the shadows of the swings dancing in the dark, at the stars blinking mockingly down at him. At least the fact that they are up there means that the sky is cloudless and Jesse doesn’t need to worry about the possibility of rain tonight. Getting soaked when the only place he has to sleep is this park would be a pain in the ass, not to mention hazardous to his health. Jesse also hopes no cops will come patrolling tonight.

Weary to the bone, Jesse curls both hands under the side of his face and gives in to slumber.

Pages: 268 pages

Tour Dates: October 30th

Tour Stops:

Parker Williams
Rainbow Gold Reviews
BFD Book Blog
Queer Town Abbey
Inked Rainbow Reads
Full Moon Dreaming
Multitasking Mommas
Wicked Faerie’s Tales and Reviews
Scattered Thoughts & Rogue Words
MM Good Book Reviews
Lee Brazil
Cate Ashwood
Havan Fellows
Elisa – My Reviews and Ramblings
Love Bytes
3 Chicks After Dark
The Hat Party
Velvet Panic


Rafflecopter Code:

a Rafflecopter giveaway


Rafflecopter Prize: One print copy of Love’s Home

Sales Links:

Amazon US:
Amazon UK:


Haunted House of Manlove


The House of Manlove, our critique group, is hosting a Haunted House of Manlove Flash blog hop.

We are looking for Flash M/M Romance of 1200 words or under with a Halloween and Hauntings theme.

You do not have to be previously published. Your story can be about established couples in a universe or setting from your own previously published work or WIP.

We do not want scenes or excerpts. We’re looking for story with all the story elements and that elusive Flash ending that makes you laugh or nod your head or go “awww.”

Click the link below if you would like to accept this invitation. I’ll send you the badge and answer any questions you might have. I’ll also get a list of participants together for your blog.

This is a week long blog hop from 10/26 to 10/31/14.


Heloise West 🙂


photo credit: <a href=””>the past tends to disappear</a> via <a href=””>photopin</a&gt; <a href=””>cc</a&gt;

Book Blast: Jennifer Cie


Book Name: Down On The Other Street

Author Name: Jennifer Cie

Author Bio: Jennifer Cie is a Tennessee native who loves taking aimless road trips, taste testing whiskey and low grade tequila—for science, and writing about social issues in everyday life. Self-proclaimed writer of “two cups of morning coffee” length books, Cie is the author of the fictional work Memphis Rain, creative non-fiction memoir Burn It, and the upcoming collection of short stories entitled Down On The Other Street.

When she is not getting lost driving across state lines, you can find her rambling about book formatting, poor life decisions, and everything in between on her blog:

Author Links:

Twitter: @JenniferCie1

Cover Artist: Najla Qambers

Publisher: Self-published


““You’re not asking someone studied—you know? I guess the rough kind of good. Like when you floss your teeth till your gums bleed. Hurts a bit, but the taste and feel are good to you.”

My first “real” talk came from you in 1992. I was fourteen sitting on the edge of my father’s leather recliner watching you cut the edges off a peanut butter sandwich. You didn’t have any tattoos back then. You had on this red sweater with blue stripes swishing through it. That pesky string of acne was still running down your right cheek when you offered me half of the sandwich.

“Anna. Why do you want to know about sex—from me?”

I wanted to tell you that the walls in my house had grown thin. Even with the stretches of screeching cars passing by and gargled whispers from the Mississippi River outside, I could hear everything tiptoeing inside. The high pitched turned guttural shrieks the women in my brother’s magazines evoked. The sound of the calluses on his hands attacking flesh like rubberized sandpaper; then, the wheezing attack followed by a hushed “guuu-ah” and tissues sopping up warm ooze. The late-night lullaby to my summers had changed, and I wanted to know the words.” –Excerpt from Intellectuals Are Fools

Tour Date: 7/29/14

Tour Stops: Parker Williams, Cate Ashwood, Smoocher’s Voice, Emotion in Motion, Prism Book Alliance, MM Good Book Reviews, Havan Fellows, My Fiction Nook, LeAnn’s Book Reviews, Book Reviews, Rants, and Raves, Scattered Thoughts & Rogue Words, Kimi-Chan, Iyana Jenna, Michael Mandrake, Love Bytes, Velvet Panic

Rafflecopter Code: a Rafflecopter giveaway


Rafflecopter Prize: E-copy of the book

Paperback ( priced at 5.75) available via

Hot Summer Flash: Full Moon and Fireflies




Full Moon and Fireflies

 By Heloise West


“Who’s that, Kev?” Brandie asked. We stood knee deep in lake water. Rowboats and small sailboats, tied up at the little dock nearby, rocked in the gentle wake of swimmers cavorting in the sun-spangled water.

I glanced over my shoulder. A young man, about our age and wearing low-slung cut-offs, walked up the beach toward us. He’d wrapped a wet white T-shirt around his head. Water dripping onto his shoulders ran down his bare belly.

The cloudless midsummer day was hot. He was hotter.

I admired his long-limbed grace. “I don’t know him. Well, wait a minute, maybe I do?”

“Dibs,” Brandie breathed out in a soft yearning voice. “Oh, dibs, dibs, dibs.”

I knew exactly how she felt. “Only by default, kiddo.”

“No way. That man is a breeder’s joy,” Brandie said softly. “Come plumb my depths with your seed, darlin’.”

I snorted. “‘Come plumb?'”

“Plow? Plunder?” she whispered. “Throw me down in the sand and—”

The handsome stranger stopped and glanced back and forth between us. I wanted to put my tongue to the rivulets of water running down his skin. His sparkling brown-eyed gaze caught mine, and he grinned.

“Hey, Kevin, right?”

My heart cannonballed into my stomach. “Cricket?”

“Oh, my God, you’re Cricket?” Brandie nearly screamed.

“You’re all grown up,” I choked out, gripping the hand he had held out to me.

Cricket smiled and squeezed my hand. “So are you.”

Cricket turned his attention to Brandie and held out his hand to her. “Brandie, right?” Kevin’s best friend?” His glance took in her black bikini and expensive gold jewelry that graced her from ears to toes. She had grown from a goofy, leggy girl into a lovely woman with mocha skin and jet black hair from her East Indian father and a comfortable in her skin attitude from her mother. Brandie preened a little, playing with the solid gold bangles on her wrist.

Cricket unwrapped the shirt from his head and shook out damp dark chestnut curls, then combed his fingers through them. He rinsed out the shirt, wrung it out, and draped it across shoulders tanned to a rosy brown hue. He was a little taller than me and a little broader. Black Irish, my mother had said when I showed her the photos of the three of us from summer camp that first year.

Brandie and Cricket would have had pretty babies.

But he was here for me.

The first boy I’d fallen for and who fell for me. My first kiss. We’d been so easy. So—natural.

The three of us splashed toward a small cove that harbored the bonfire crew, the beer kegs, and the food prep. Someone’s seafood restaurant dad had supplied us this year with lobster, clams to steam, and corn on the cob. We all pitched in to shuck, man the boiling and steaming pots, and gather wood.

Above us loomed a large wooden cabin, now abandoned, part of our old summer camp. Years after the camp had closed, some of us who lived nearby began to come out to the lake island for a week or two around the Fourth of July. A few years later word got around and those grown up campers who lived farther away began to show for summer camp reunions.

I lived close by, and I’d attended every one. This was the first time I’d seen Cricket here. I had to work and didn’t make it out every day, so it was possible I had missed him. We had a lively Facebook group, Camp Arrowhead Alumni, but I couldn’t recall seeing Cricket there, either.

There would be no more reunions in the future, at least not here—someone had bought the island—rather, was in the process of buying it. I didn’t imagine any place else—a backyard, a stretch of beach on the mainland, could have the magical pull this beautiful place did.

Brandie left Cricket and I alone to have our private reunion sitting cross-legged in the sand, a pile of corn in bags before us. The sun was setting but had left its heat on my face, arms, chest, and shoulders. I picked up an ear of corn, stripped the cool green husk from it, and dropped it into one of many of the big boiling pots.

“You live nearby?” Cricket had to speak first, as I was still stupefied he was sitting next to me, agile fingers stripping corncobs of their layers.

Me, next, my thoughts begged him.

“In town. It’s my first year teaching junior high. You?”

“I counsel at-risk youth in the city.”

“I wrote to you,” I blurted out. “Faithfully, God damn it. Then you didn’t come back to camp, and I never heard from you again.”

“My parents read our emails and wouldn’t let me have your letters after that. They didn’t want a gay son, so they blamed you.” He bent his head over the corn. “I was too young to leave home, so I let them.”

“I’m so sorry! But you could have told me later, when you grew up?” I had wanted to ask him why for years and the hurt returned as the layers of time stripped away between us.

His eyes sparkled. “But, Kevin, here we are, all grown up.” Cricket reached for another ear of corn. “My parents divorced, and my mother and I moved across the country, where she later remarried. By then you and I seemed like a midsummer dream.”

A full moon and fireflies had surrounded us when we kissed that first time. “I remember how we were. We hardly knew what we were doing, but I remember.” I ran the soft corn silk tuft through my fingers a moment, thinking back. My heart had thundered like fireworks and my blood sparked beneath my skin. I’d yearned for him for three summers before finally getting up the guts to lean against him and put my lips to his, but he had been waiting for me.

“We made each other crowns and garlands of wild flowers,” Crickets said softly. “I remember their scent when we rolled naked in the grass.”

I brushed against him now, shoulders and knees. “It was real to me then, and it’s real to me now.” Behind his head, a trio of fireflies flew near, and I smiled as he leaned in to kiss me.

“Corn doesn’t shuck itself, lovebirds!” A dinner roll landed in my lap, and Brandie’s distinct giggle followed.

He said in my ear, “What do you do with your summers now?”

“I wait tables in a diner in town,” I answered. “Until my school loans are paid off, that is.”

“When my stepdad died, he left me—a lot of money. I want to start a camp, for kids, like Camp Arrowhead.”

“Wow, that’s— Jesus, that would be amazing, Cricket.” Our time at camp hadn’t all been sweet stolen kisses in the grass. There had been something undeniably good and character forming about our summers here. “It’s too bad someone’s already buying the island because—oh, shit, that—that was you?”

“Yes,” he kissed me again. “Do you still remember how to start a fire without matches and find the best sticks for marshmallow roasts?”

 ~*~*~the end~*~*~

Here are the links to all the great authors and their hot summer flash:

1. Kate Lowell

2. Kimber Vale

3. A Little Bit of Naughty

4. N.D. Wylders – M/M Author

5. Evelise Archer

6. Eva Lefoy

7. Jennah Scotttt

8. C.V. Madison | Dreamer of Words

9. Flashing Anne » Fiction in Few Words

10. ameliabishop

Excerpt for Seductive Studs and Sirens Blog Hop

photo credit: Parker Knight via photopin cc

Another excerpt from “River Gods” from the Dreamspinner Press Anthology Juicy Bits:

Who are you, Beltramino? Marco had never seen the man at the baths or in the taverns where men like him congregated. It was unlikely they had mutual friends or acquaintances. He was not a youth by any means, only a few years younger than Marco’s two and thirty. His eyes were bright and his cheeks flushed as if he had a fever, but Marco knew it for what it was—attraction and the sexual heat that was growing between them. It would be a complicated trap indeed, if his enemies were lurking near, ready to spring upon him the moment he took Beltramino into his arms. Absurd, but that was how he felt.
Marco was curious, but like most matters of this nature, it was best not to ask and bring more danger to a dangerous endeavor. Perhaps Beltramino was one of those reformed men who sought the friendship of suspected sodomites, only to turn them over to the authorities. No, Beltramino was too old for that—youths and boys were the honey to sweeten that trap.
Still, his instincts for self-preservation were strong. He was not in a familiar place with trusted companions. He was not at the baths, and the hunt for him continued.

Here’s the hop:

Damn the notice #SeductiveSnS #gay #romance #erotica #spanking

Best, Heloise West