Today, Grace Kilian Delaney is here to tell us about her book Flirting with Fire, so I’ll the floor to her.

I’m Grace Kilian Delaney, and I write books about men in the film industry who start out living on opposite coasts of the US, and of course, fall in love and move to be with their beau. Flirting with Fire is about Tate, a grieving stunt performer with a particularly foul mouth, and Endre, a yoga teacher whose life is in complete turmoil and resorts to a radio contest to get a boyfriend for Thanksgiving.

Tate isn’t afraid to tell someone how he feels, give them praise, give them hell, and his sense of humor is rather gross but I’m afraid that is one thing we do share. He jumped to the page, ready to face my worst fears: losing a sibling, my father’s cluttered home catching fire, and fire in general. He carries guilt in his heart for a death he couldn’t have stopped, and it tears him apart more and more as the story progresses. He isn’t polished and has no formal education. He’s worked hard to make his stunt performing business a success. Fiercely loyal and perpetually hungry, he flows along with Endre’s mercurial moods, and instead of being put off by Endre’s depression and messed up life, things Endre view as severe deficits, he stands in awe of Endre’s achievements. Tate is the guy I’d want to have my back, to make me laugh when the entire world feels too heavy, the very thing he does for Endre. For all of these reasons, Tate is my favorite character of the Shore Thing series, and I hope you enjoy reading about him.

Excerpt:

TATE

Brown leaves crunched as Tate Astbury walked to the granite headstone symbolizing the division of his life into two parts: Before and After. Winter lingered in the air; that clean, cold scent seeped into his bones, bringing back childhood days in New England with family celebrations and weeks that carelessly slipped by into spring then summer.

That was Before. Before the guilt festered. Before he saw two people in the mirror instead of one. Before he took the one person who meant everything to him for granted.

Tate approached the headstone with the name he learned to spell at the same time as his own, the date of birth he shared, and the date of death he didn’t. He plucked off the dried leaves and twigs that had fallen on the plaque and put a single white rose down.

“Never thought I’d make it past thirty, yet here I am, thirty-three years old. All the dumb shit I’ve done since you…since I last saw you, you would think I’d be the one interred.” He should’ve been. They had done everything together. Death shouldn’t have been any different.

Tate squinted, staring across the field of headstones to where a couple stood holding hands in front of a grave.

“It’s gotten easier. Like, some days, I don’t think about you or what happened right away.” Until he looked in the mirror. Then he saw the irreplaceable soul whose face he would never forget, a blessing and a curse. “You’d tell me to quit being so dramatic and get on with my life. But today it’s hard, so cut me some slack, aight?”

A cardinal perched in the tree above him and whistled, its song like someone calling for its dog. And then it shit, missing Tate’s head but landing on his shoe with a splat.

“Fucker.” Tate laughed, figuring he must look like a crazy person out there laughing alone. Well, not entirely alone. There was that bird with a wicked sense of humor.

“I get it. Enough with the pity party. I’m going to celebrate with the boys later. But this one’s for you.” He unscrewed the miniature Jack Daniel’s bottle, not his favorite but his twin brother liked the brand, and poured the entire contents on the grave.

“Happy birthday, Mazi.”

---

A stuntman with a love for fire.

A yoga teacher in search of zen.

A holiday season neither will forget.

Stunt performer and self-declared badass, Tate Astbury returns to his hometown to spend another dreaded Thanksgiving with his dad. But his father forgets and makes other plans, resigning Tate to a quiet and depressing holiday alone unless he can find someplace else to celebrate.

When Tate’s mischievous friend learns about the unfortunate twist, he dares Tate to enter a radio contest to become a fake boyfriend for a desperate caller’s holiday dinner, and Tate never turns down a dare.

Endre Michel is a mess. His yoga business is on the cusp of ruin, and his moms are visiting from out of state for the holiday, intent on meeting his boyfriend, a person Endre invented. Through the contest, he meets Tate, a crude, tattooed older man who plays the role of doting boyfriend so well, Endre suspects and hopes it’s not all for show.

Neither man can deny the unintended connection, and they struggle to overcome the distance between Tate’s put-together Hollywood career and the chaos surrounding Endre’s unsteady future—a situation that intensifies when an unthinkable tragedy uncovers a dark and painful truth.

Will Tate and Endre’s future together perish in flames, or can their love rise from the ashes?

Flirting with Fire is a standalone holiday romance with several cups of angst, questionable jokes, a bird with a wicked sense of humor, a bed with loud, squeaky springs, and an HFN/HEA ending.

CW: suicide, substance abuse disorder, grief, mental illness

---

Book Links

Amazon Universal:getbook.at/FlirtingWithFire_GKD
Available on Amazon
Formats: eBook and paperback
Genre: Contemporary Romance
Publisher: Self published
ASIN: B08L56Q52T
ISBN:979869570842
263  pages
Cover by: AngstyG

---

Bio

Author, musician, and human slave to the dog and cat that rule her house, Grace Kilian Delaney enjoys giving her characters a dark sense of humor and a happily ever after.

Twitter: @GracekilianD
Instagram: GraceKilianD
Facebook Group: Delaney’s Dearies
Goodreads
BookBub
Newsletter

Today, David Connor is here to tell us about All About Angels that he’s co-written with E.F. Mulder.

---

It’s been a tough year, and I got to wondering about angels, the heavenly kind who hold our hands when things are stressful and also the kind down here on Earth who keep things moving along as they need to. I first met Civil War soldiers Jefferson and Daniel while creating Goose’s story in Ghost Writer. Jefferson started out as a 150-year-old ghost, but Goose helped him cross over to be with Daniel, the love of his life. Together, they are now an angelic duo who have visited with Goose in a handful of sequels. I thought, what if Daniel and Jefferson brought together an entire team of Heavenly helpers to bring comfort, peace, thanks, joy, and good will to women and men this holiday season. In All About Angels, we visit over a dozen couples from many of our past stories. We catch up with where they are, what they’ve been up to, the good and the bad, and how they are helping others cope with all that is going on in the world. It was truly a blast visiting with these old friends; sentimental, funny, touching, sad, happy, and surprising, since the stories that end up on the page are rarely planned; they just seem to want to tell themselves. Though Daniel and Jefferson set things in motion, what the others discover throughout five all new stories that cross over and intertwine, is that people, even when forced to be apart, can come together in myriad ways to aid one another.

Angels Daniel and Jefferson recruit a band of heavenly hosts to spread comfort and joy this holiday season after a rough year for all. The five stories in this anthology intertwine as the angels visit old friends and new, including characters from the authors’ best-selling stories Ghost Writer, Guilt and Innocence, An Arm and a Leg, Monsters, Let’s Hang Out, 21 Smiles, and Transitions, among others.

Which couples have wed? Who is set to play Tiny Tim and Dopey the Dwarf? Who gets to see his lover for the very first time? Which duos are raising children? Which pair welcomes a new one, and which couple has gone their separate ways?

Can Daniel and Jefferson spread enough holiday cheer to bring everyone a merry yuletide season and hope for the new year?

JMS Link: https://www.jms-books.com/david-connor-c-224_268/all-about-angels-p-3585.html

---

Excerpt:

Normally, at two hours each way, New Mill Town would be too far upstate for Westchester County ride share driver Alfonse “Z” Zapata to pick up or drop off passengers. Because of the COVID-19 pandemic and how it had affected both his business and his aunt’s flower shop and plant nursery, Z was desperate for money, though. He was taking on much longer trips for people who didn’t mind paying, those who preferred a long, expensive, but quiet and comfortable car ride to the crowded and noisy train.

“Here is fine.” Justice Becker had hired Z to bring him home from Westchester Medical after an overnight stay for a sleep study.

“The thrift shop?” Z asked.

Justice told him, “Yes.”

Aunt Faye’s Things was already decorated for the holidays, even though a few days still remained before Thanksgiving. Ropes of fresh balsam garland looped around the roofline outside. A dusting of sparkling snow made them even more beautiful. It always snowed early in New Mill Town. Hot in summer, cold in winter, seasons as they should be, Archie Wilkes, who’d recently acquired the thrift shop always said.

“That man is Justice,” Jefferson told Daniel. “Justice loves Archie, who came into a large sum money after his Aunt Faye’s passing. The property his aunt’s house sat upon was sold for a handsome sum, and a portion of her many, many belongings were quite valuable. When 14K Konsignment and Kollectibles went up for sale after one former proprietor left town because the other, his spouse, was taken off to prison for murder…”

“Oh, my!” Daniel was understandably shocked.

“When all of that went down, as the current vernacular goes, Archie Wilkes bought the place.”

“I see.”

Inside the neat but overstocked thrift store, multicolored lights around four large front windows blinked cheerfully, and an animated village with skaters and carolers, children building snowmen, and a horse drawn sleigh looked like the actual quaint New Mill Town burg in miniature. Z, who’d followed Justice inside, looked momentarily festive, as he tapped his foot to a jaunty Christmas tune playing from four speakers, one in each corner of the 900 square foot space. When he peered up at the big screen TV on the back wall, however, his demeanor changed. Daniel and Jefferson, now inside as well, took note. Z covered his mouth with his hand, though his mouth was already covered by a protective mask. In a two-shot with the smiling anchor on the fourth hour of the top-rated network morning show was Nero Storm.

“Tell us about those precious animals looking for a forever home this holiday season, Nero,” the anchor requested.

While Z looked away from Nero’s report, Justice straightened his face covering and focused on the television screen, surrounded by a chain of fake orange and yellow leaves with a tissue paper turkey affixed at the top. Though eager to bring out Christmas, “I don’t want to shortchange Thanksgiving,” Archie had said. Archie was awesome like that.

“I know that guy.” Justice spoke to no one in particular, though Z stood right there, as the two both perused through a large stack of books. “The guy who owns this place now, he’s a sucker for romance,” Justice said, nosily glancing to see what kind of books caught Z’s interests. “He showed me video of these flowers some other guy planted for Nero Storm, flowers that came up in the shape of smiley faces, back a couple years ago, when Storm was a local reporter in Westchester.”

“I remember.” Z was holding a book on mental health, one Justice recalled seeing in the bookshelf at Archie’s home. Faye Wilkes struggled in that area.

“Hard to forget something like that.” Justice smiled in Z’s direction. “You know him?”

“What makes you think that?” Z didn’t smile back, leading Justice to wonder if he was struggling, too.

“Cop’s intuition.” Justice just had a feeling and said so, something in the way Z kept looking up and then away from the TV only when Storm was speaking.

“I used to know him,” Z said.

“Guy’s really on his way up in the world, huh? Big Apple reporter, now. Network level sometimes.” Justice’s third cup of coffee since leaving the hospital had kicked in. “He’ll be working the Rockefeller tree lighting next week, I read somewhere, the pared down, social distancing, 2020 bummer edition of the usually big shebang.”

“Shebang?”

Justice cringed. It was an old man word, perhaps. He still hated being reminded of his age, twice Archie’s at one time. Not anymore, though. Thinking of the math, Archie’s math that had 8 proven not so long ago how the gap was narrowing, that brought a smile. “Storm’s popular and adored by everyone all of a sudden.” Justice put his own issues aside and rambled on. “Not just the hopeless romantic planting flowers for him. Archie, the aforementioned owner who also happens to be my boyfriend…the young man I’m…the man I’m with, he did something for me with flowers every bit as—”

“I’m sorry.” Z took one more look up at the TV, “I gotta go,” then turned for the exit, without revealing the hopeless romantic who’d planted the flowers for Nero Storm was he.

“Thanks for the ride.” Justice reached out for a handshake, another antiquated thing. Antiquated and now forbidden. “Sorry. Old habits.”

“No worries.” Z was already out of reach, anyway.

“Happy Thanks—” Then, he was gone before Justice could finish the word.

“Z seems very sad,” Daniel noted.

“Yes. We cannot change certain situations, but we can help bring people together who can touch one another in miraculous ways, some offering nothing more than solace and understanding. That is why we and the others were dispatched, if you will, this holiday season. The angels who’ll tend to Archie and Justice are eager to reunite with them. Z’s turn, his visit, will come closer to actual Christmas.”

“I trust you, dear Jefferson. Tell me more of Archie and Justice and their angels.”

---

Connect with David:

https://twitter.com/DannyCinicic

K.L. Noone is here, and today is the day Cinnamon and Strawberries is released! Since K.L. Noone is a fellow JMS writer, I happen to know you can get it for 20% off if you hop on over the JMS site.

It’s my son’s birthday, so I’ll just hand over the reins and let Ms Noone take it from here while I go back to the party (without guests since Covid and all that).

---

Thanks to Ofelia for letting me drop by to post about my new release and share the holiday love!

I write a lot of m/m romance (and sometimes f/f or m/f with bisexual characters!), and I love historical romance—I love the settings and the stories, the sense of place and time, and shared emotions across centuries. I also love stories about stories: how important they are, how they connect us, how we fall in love with them and through them. Along those lines, “Cinnamon and Strawberries” is a bonus holiday story for my Character Bleed trilogy (Seaworthy, Stalwart, and Steadfast), which is about actors filming a Napoleonic War-era gay love story, and falling in love amid historical costuming and sailing ships and early mornings and hot coffee.

In this bonus story, Jason and Colby have said the I love you to each other, have won a few battles with fear and self-doubt, and have more or less moved in together after filming—but now it’s right before Christmas, and they’ll have to navigate their first holiday season together! Not to mention Colby’s birthday, which is also coming up—and comes with a few ugly memories from his past. But Jason’s determined to make everything as perfect as he can…

“Cinnamon and Strawberries” includes holiday decorations, cinnamon-infused mead, and breakfast in bed—plus some interestingly naughty uses for ribbon! It was sheer fun to write, because I love these characters and their story so much—and I hope you love them too!

~K.L. Noone

Want to know more about Jason and Colby, or check out my other books, or just drop by to say hello? You can find me on twitter or instagram, or follow me on the blog! And here’s my Amazon author page, and my JMS Books author page!

---

Jason and Colby fell in love on a movie set, and found their own happy ending. But now that filming’s over, they’ll have to figure out what’s next, as holiday bells start ringing in the air.

Jason’s ready to move in forever if Colby asks—but he’s not sure Colby’s ready for that. Colby’s hoping Jason wants to stay—but has a hard time believing in promises.

Together, they’ll face their first holiday season as a celebrity couple, complete with breakfast in bed, new uses for sparkly ribbon, mince pies, and learning how to live together…and a few surprise celebrations.

Buy Links:

JMS Books: https://www.jms-books.com/kl-noone-c-224_279/cinnamon-and-strawberries-p-3592.html

Amazon: https://www.amazon.com/Cinnamon-Strawberries-K-L-Noone-ebook/dp/B08PG471T3/

---

Excerpt:

“Not sure I’ve ever had a real mince pie.” Jason had become sidetracked by traditional holiday foods. “It’s got…raisins?”

“And currants, and apples, and mixed peel, and in my version brandy and a bourbon cream sauce. I’m absolutely going to need a new suit fitting before our premiere. Speaking of, did you see Jill’s text?”

“About meeting up whenever we’re back in LA to see my family? Yeah. I’ll check with Mom tonight and we can figure out the timing.” Jason’s hands snuck beneath Colby’s jumper, under violet knit, resting over bared skin. “You feel nice.”

“I’ve put on weight.”

“Nice,” Jason repeated, with some emphasis; Colby knew perfectly well that those big soulful brown eyes worried. Jason had never liked how thin he’d been, back when he’d kept forgetting to eat and hadn’t bothered cooking much and hid cold weary bones under layers of shirts and scarves and armor.   “You want me to make lunch? Something with stuffed peppers and sweet potatoes, maybe? Something easy.”

“I do love it when you cook for us.” He did. Jason was in fact an excellent cook, having grown up with a mother and grandmother who held very loud Italian opinions about sauces and risotto and garlic. Jason had, before Colby, got out of the habit of making anything, living alone and single in Los Angeles and not going to the trouble; but he’d always liked cooking for partners, he’d said, if someone wanted him to, and the hint of bashful embarrassed hope had gone straight to Colby’s heart and woven gold into all the cracks.

They tended to cook together, these days.

He tucked his face into Jason’s neck for a moment. “You smell like pine needles and guava.”

“The first part’s your candles. Also you know I borrowed your soap, in the shower. You were there. Mine’s almost out.”

“We should do some shopping. And I was still a bit fuzzy after all the magnificent sex. You’re lucky I was coherent enough for proper sentence structure. If I was. Did you say something about icing sugar, or did I?”

“You did. Like being decorated, you said. Lots of white splashes all over you. And cream. Can I decorate you some more?”

“Yes,” Colby said, and curled a finger around a belt-loop of Jason’s jeans. “Right now? Right here?”

Jason visibly considered—and liked— this suggestion. But glanced around. “The curtains’re open. And those reindeer are watching.”

“The reindeer are happy you’re here. And we’re on the first—sorry, I’ll try to remember to speak American—second floor. And there’re lights and snowflakes all over the windows. Could you perhaps do something with that ribbon and my wrists?”

“Sometimes you are an exhibitionist,” Jason said. “I mean, not seriously. You wouldn’t and I wouldn’t. But kinda. You like thinking about it. Me putting you on your knees in the middle of the living room, or getting you off in the men’s room after that planetarium show, my hand on your cock and my fingers in your mouth, keeping you quiet…”

“That one was your idea,” Colby protested. “I looked too happy, you said. Irresistible.”

“Like now.” Jason tugged at his jumper; Colby lifted arms so Jason could peel it off over his head. “Secretly kinky. Into the reindeer watching. Telling me to tie you up with holiday ribbon. Adorable innocent Colby Kent. No one’d ever believe it.”

“I’m not innocent.” He tried for a scowl, didn’t mean it in the least, gave up. “It’s just what people think. You know I’m not.”

“You’re you.” Jason traced a line along Colby’s collarbone and chest: down to one nipple, taut and eager. Then began playing with it: tugging, teasing, pinching. “My cream puff.”

Colby whimpered out loud, shameless and thrilled. His trousers felt tighter, arousal building.

“On your knees, like you want,” Jason said, and Colby knelt, gazing up, devout and willing.

Jason stepped away, picked up a coil of ribbon—dark red and glittering gold, slightly stiff edges for decorative shaping and bows, several inches wide—and came back. Colby watched him.

Jason was so beautiful. Tall and large and thoughtful, he filled up a room simply by existing: not because he had any particular need to take over or prove himself, but because he was broad and generous and a shield for others. Colby loved him and would jump in front of a runaway sleigh for him and would forever readily kneel for him, trusting Jason with everything he was.

He thought suddenly that perhaps Jason needed to know that; perhaps Jason needed some reassurance as well. Jason did a lot of taking care of him, and had hung lights and put up garlands without complaint, and now was indulging Colby’s mildly kinky fantasies, just because Colby had asked.

Jason brushed the end of the ribbon across Colby’s throat, down his bare chest, over tingling electric skin. The whisper of it quivered bone-deep.