Thursday, July 11, 2019

In the warmth and heady atmosphere of the exotic city, Aiden takes a chance and approaches a handsome man. #newrelease #MMromance #gayromance @parr_books @evernightpub



Dear Heart,  new release from Evernight Publishing 

Aiden Flint goes on vacation with three friends to Pamplona, Spain. Seeking excitement, they will run with the bulls in the festival of St. Fermin. As the four friends enjoy the nightlife, they notice an attractive man watching Aiden in the bars they visit. In the warmth and heady atmosphere of the exotic city, Aiden takes a chance and approaches the handsome man.
Enigmatic Santiago Arista is sexy, kind, desperate for love, and achingly lonely. He’s just about given up on finding love, until one warm, summer night, sitting alone in a bar, he sees gorgeous Aiden. He’s elated when Aiden joins him at his table.
Deep attraction swirls between them. At the end of the night when they share a kiss, Aiden can’t believe the bliss that enfolds him, but have both men found someone to love just when fate is about to throw Aiden into mortal danger?




Read a teaser

Aiden poured some beer into the glass and sipped at it. He assessed Santiago as he replaced the glass on the table. He’s fascinating, polite, maybe shy, different, cultured—and yet, sex exudes from him. I bet he’s dynamite in bed.
Santiago’s low voice interrupted his thoughts. “I wonder if you’d take a walk with me. The old town is interesting, even at night.”
Aiden’s heartbeat sped up. The lure of being with Santiago in a place he might hold him close and taste his kiss brought a smiling assent from Aiden. “That’s a great idea.”
On the narrow sidewalk, when they’d left the bright lights of the bars behind, Santiago took Aiden’s hand.
Excitement rocketed through Aiden. He took a deep breath, and on a dimly lit side street, he turned to Santiago and dragged him close. He molded the length of his body to Santiago’s, breathing close to the gorgeous man’s lips. “Kiss me,” he whispered.
Santiago responded.
The gentle merge of his lips with Aiden’s sent wonderful melting sensations through Aiden’s body. He clung to Santiago, taking kiss after kiss, lingering in the delectable embrace, pressing his hips to Santiago’s, breathing with the gorgeous man, sighing at the same time, until his legs weakened with raw desire.
Santiago drew only a fraction away from Aiden’s mouth. “Your kiss is addictive. I don’t want to stop. I feel your need against my body, and I want to ease it.” He held Aiden’s face and kissed him again.
Waves of exquisite feeling rolled through Aiden. He murmured softly, incoherent sounds of pleasure onto Santiago’s lips each time they broke contact to breathe. His thoughts tumbled in those seconds. The kisses were the best he’d ever experienced. He’d never before felt the kind of sensations running through and over him. He rested his forehead on Santiago’s.
“I’ve never had such totally amazing kisses. I’m floating in pleasure.”
“Me, too, I want you so much.”
Santiago’s replying whisper teased on Aiden’s lips.
His stomach clenched. His cock grew harder. Pure sexual need zinged in every cell of his body.
A group of people shouting and laughing turned into the street. Their approach forced Aiden to drop his arms from Santiago’s waist.
Santiago’s eyes flashed silver in a sudden shower of light from a door, thrown open to welcome the group. Regret filled his expression. He gazed with longing at Aiden. “Dear heart, walk with me.” He turned.
Aiden followed, his ears full of the endearment Santiago had assigned to him, his body drifting in delight, and love seeding in his heart for the man he’d only just met.
The river ran in a loop close to the old quarter, and Santiago clasped Aiden’s hand in his as they crossed a medieval bridge.
Aiden enjoyed the gentle strength surrounding his hand. He walked closer to Santiago.
“Do you live nearby?”
“In the old quarter—yes.” Santiago stopped and turned in an elegant move to Aiden. He held Aiden’s hands in his. “I wish you wouldn’t participate in the running tomorrow, or ever … I fear for you.”
Awash with sensation from Santiago’s palms pressed deliciously on his own, Aiden snatched a kiss from the man whose tone held affection and concern. The kiss brought a purr of delight to Aiden’s lips. He took another delicious kiss then murmured, “You called me dear heart…”
Santiago bowed his head. “You don’t like that.”
Aiden pulled a hand from Santiago’s grasp and slipped it around his face. He gazed into Santiago’s bright eyes. “I do like it.” Aiden smiled gently at the man who intrigued and lit him with desire. “Who are you really, Santiago? I feel wrapped in passion, cared for … and yet … well, we’ve only just met.”
Santiago’s words whispered across his lips. “Perhaps we’ve each met someone to love.”
Tingles ran up Aiden’s spine. The words were full of portent. He’d welcome love, and the way he felt kissing Santiago was the best ever. Yet, he couldn’t let himself comment. It’s too soon. What if I fall in love with him and in a week’s time, I have to go home, to work, to my life?
He took refuge in Santiago’s anxiety about him running with the bulls the next day.
“Santiago, I have to join the bull running. My friends expect it. I said I would. That’s why we’re here. I would never live it down if I didn’t do it at least once. I confess I’m scared now, but I have to do it.”
His handsome companion crushed him close. “Then take care.” He ran a hand down the back of Aiden’s head, stopping to tangle gentle fingers in his hair.
E.D. Parr, Copyright 2019, Evernight Publishing
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Tuesday, July 9, 2019

Set your smartphone alarm for Thursday July 11 New release #MMromance a beautiful sizzling #gay love story @evernightpub @parr_books


Dear Heart
Releasing Thursday July 11

Aiden Flint goes on vacation with three friends to Pamplona, Spain. Seeking excitement, they will run with the bulls in the festival of St. Fermin. As the four friends enjoy the nightlife, they notice an attractive man watching Aiden in the bars they visit. In the warmth and heady atmosphere of the exotic city, Aiden takes a chance and approaches the handsome man.
Enigmatic Santiago Arista is sexy, kind, desperate for love, and achingly lonely. He’s just about given up on finding love, until one warm, summer night, sitting alone in a bar, he sees gorgeous Aiden. He’s elated when Aiden joins him at his table.
Deep attraction swirls between them. At the end of the night when they share a kiss, Aiden can’t believe the bliss that enfolds him, but have both men found someone to love just when fate is about to throw Aiden into mortal danger?



Tig isn't a detective. She just played one on TV. Will that be enough to help her find the killer? New release #mystery #giveaway book tour @JessaArcher


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Coastal Playhouse Mysteries #1
Cozy Mystery
Publisher: Archer Mysteries
Date Published: July 9, 2019


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ROMEO, ROMEO, WHEREFORTH ART THOU?
Acting jobs are scarce now for former TV teen detective Antigone Alden. So when a teaching position opens up at Southern Coastal University, Tig packs up her teenage daughter and heads home to the Outer Banks of North Carolina.

The house she inherited from her mother isn't entirely empty, however. Her mom seems stuck between this life and the next, and now Tig is a local reporter's prime suspect in the murder of the former theater professor. Given his reputation as ladies' man, there are plenty of people with a motive.

Tig isn't a detective. She just played one on TV. Will that be enough to help her find the killer?


Excerpt


The discovery of Amundsen’s body meant that all of my classes were canceled. Lunch with Dean Prendergast was canceled, as well. I was perfectly okay with that since I no longer had the slightest bit of appetite.

Dr. Martin Peele arrived at Muncey Theater just before campus police, about ten minutes after Ben phoned him with the news about his junior colleague. Most of my interviews for the open position had been handled in an online video conference, but I’d met Dr. Peele in person once, when I was on campus with my mother a few years back. A short, squat man with thick eyebrows and an expressive face, he reminded me of a slightly taller and younger Danny DeVito. My first thought when I met him—aside from the fact that he had sweaty palms—was that he was tailor-made for character acting.

As soon as Dr. Peele was inside, campus police turned their questions to him, which made sense, given that I’d never even met Amundsen…well, at least not when he was alive. So I slipped out the side door with a book, in search of someplace quiet, preferably with lots of fresh air. I ducked into the cafeteria to grab coffee from the vending machine and then found an empty bench at a little park between Muncey Auditorium and the main campus. The last inch of the coffee remained in the bottom of the cup as I sat on the bench reading, so that I could bring it up to my nose and breathe it in as needed. Even a half hour later, out in the wide open where the January air carried a hint of the ocean, the awful smell from the theater remained lodged in my nostrils.

The scrappy girl detectives on Private Eye High encountered a corpse in pretty much every episode, and there were even a few cases where they stumbled upon a long-dead body. Given that the makeup department generally did an excellent job of making the bodies look real, I would have sworn that I was fully inoculated against squeamishness. But I’d never really considered the olfactory element. Murder mysteries will be much less popular if anyone ever invents smell-i-vision.

“Well, well, if it isn’t Antigone Alden. How is it that you’re in town less than twenty-four hours and we already have a dead body?”

I hadn’t heard Alicia Brown’s voice in more than twenty years, but the nasal twang was unmistakable. When I left Caratoke High School at the end of my sophomore year, after landing the part in Private Eye High, Alicia was the reigning Queen Bee-with-an-itch. She didn’t like me for one simple reason: Travis Lamm did like me. In fact, he liked me so much that we’d ended up dating for over three years, even keeping the relationship going after I was in California.

Sighing, I snapped shut the technical theater text I’d been thumbing through halfheartedly. “The body’s been in the trap room for way more than twenty-four hours, Leash.”

I didn’t even have to look up to know the expression on Alicia’s face when I pulled out the old nickname, Leash. I could picture the woman’s ferretlike nose twitch perfectly. That’s one good thing about old frenemies. You already know which buttons to push.

“You stepped right into his job,” Alicia said. “That might make some people a little suspicious. Or maybe trouble just follows you around like a bad stink. Can’t believe you’ve decided to come back and live among us commoners. Is California’s cost of living too high for washed-up has-beens?”

At that point I did look up and was surprised that the Alicia in my head didn’t look much like the one standing in front of me. Alicia’s hair was platinum now, rather than her natural brassy blonde. Two decades of tanning booths, Quarter Pounders, and cigarettes had taken a toll. Alicia now looked more like her mother, who’d sat in the bleachers at home games, than the pert and perky head majorette who had strutted across the field at halftime.

Rather than try to cover my surprise, I decided to use it. “Wow. I am so sorry, Mrs. Brown! I could have sworn I was talking to your daughter, Alicia.”

Alicia cocked her head to one side. I could almost hear the hamster wheel spinning away as she tried to dredge up a smart retort.

I decided to spare her the torment, thinking maybe if I just cut to the chase, Alicia would leave. “Did you want something, Alicia?”

“Actually, I do. I’m the lead reporter for The Clarion these days and unfortunately, my editor tasked me with writing a human-interest piece on your move back to Caratoke. Us being old friends and all. I have to get a photo to go with the article, so say cheese.” Alicia held up her phone and snapped the picture before I even had time to smile. She tucked the phone back into her little red handbag and then turned on her heel to walk away.



About the Author

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Jessa Archer writes sweet, funny, warm-hearted cozy mysteries because she loves a good puzzle and can't stand the sight of blood. Her characters are witty, adventurous, and crafty in the nicest way. You'll find her sleuths hand lettering inspirational quotes, trying to lower golf handicaps, enjoying a scone at a favorite teashop, knitting a sweater, or showing off a dramatic side in local theater.

Jessa's done many things in her long career, including a stint as a journalist and practicing law. But her favorite job is spinning mysteries. She loves playing small town sleuth and transporting readers to a world where the scones are delicious, wine pairs with hand lettering, and justice always prevails.


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Friday, July 5, 2019

When attorney Cullen Molloy attends his fortieth high school reunion, he doesn’t expect to be defending childhood friends against charges of murder… New release #mystery




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Coming of Age / Mystery / Humor
Date Published: June 8, 2019
Publisher: Acorn Publishing

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When attorney Cullen Molloy attends his fortieth high school reunion, he doesn’t expect to be defending childhood friends against charges of murder… 

In a small town on the high plains of Eastern New Mexico, life and culture are shaped by the farm roads defining the 640-acre sections of land homesteaders claimed at the turn of the Twentieth Century. Cullen and Shelby Blaine explore first love along these section roads during the 1960’s, forging a life-long emotional bond.
  
      As junior high school band nerds, Cullen and Shelby fall under the protection of football player and loner, Buddy Boyd. During their sophomore year of high school, Buddy is charged with killing a classmate and is confined to a youth correctional facility. When he returns to town facing the prospect of imprisonment as an adult, Cullen becomes Buddy’s protector.


       The case haunts the three friends into adulthood, and it isn’t until their fortieth reunion, that they’re forced to revisit that horrible night. When a new killing takes place, Cullen, Shelby and Buddy find themselves reliving the nightmare.

  

         Murder is an easy thing to hide along old country section roads.




Advance Praise

“An ambitious, evocative small-town tale located somewhere between Peyton Place and The Last Picture Show.” –Kirkus Review

Read the Full Review

Read a teaser


July 2009 Friday

“I’ll ride with Buddy,” Shelby whispered. “Do you mind? It’ll give us a chance to talk.”
“No, I think that’s a good idea.” Cullen lifted his eyebrows, which Shelby dismissed with a wave.
                Buddy stood a little apart from them at the Enterprise counter. They’d been through the greeting rituals. A hug for Shelby, which she returned with a kiss to his cheek. A polite, interested handshake with Lori.
Cullen and Lori left them and began an hour-long drive through the agricultural blight of West Texas.     
 “So, what’s the deal with Buddy?” Lori asked. “I know you worked together a long time ago, but you really haven’t talked much about him.”
They drove along a paved road—an impossibly straight line heading north. Deep green alfalfa fields alternated with stubby rows of cotton and weedy, untilled soil bank every few miles forming a pattern replicating itself off into a horizontal infinity. Heat waves shimmered along the pavement. From the soil bank, dust and debris climbed columns of rising, swirling air.
At the age of five, Cullen came to believe these thermal dust devils were pathways for souls fleeing to heaven. He believed this because on the summer day his grandmother was buried at a rural cemetery with brown grass and a few gnarled, wind-battered elms, one of these dust devils sprang from an uncultivated field across the road and as it grew—sucking dirt and paper and tumbleweeds along—passed over the mounded red earth marking the new grave. A spurt of dust leaped from the mound, painting a segment of the great undulating pillar a pale rosy shade. This pink apparition climbed as the thermal moved across the cemetery, finally disappearing into a hot, whitish-blue, eastern New Mexico sky.
Dust devils always made Cullen think of the people he loved who were no longer alive. His mother and father rested with his grandmother at that same cemetery.
Cullen had a ready description when his friends asked him about his home town. Arthur, New Mexico, along with hardscrabble oil patch towns like Hobbs, Artesia, Midland and Odessa, was located on a high plane called Llano Estacado which, Cullen originally speculated, was Spanish for something like really windy dry flat place.
 Occupying Eastern New Mexico and Northwest Texas, the region is characterized by hot blustery summers and even colder blustery winters. The wet part of the Llano received barely twenty inches of rain during a good year. “Arthur,” Cullen would note, “is in the dry part.”
Bleak as they might be, the Hobbses, Odessas and Artesias of the world were at least plopped down atop semi-vast underground puddles of oil. Not Arthur. Not a drop. If tumbleweeds had been a cash crop, though, the homesteaders would have prospered.
Arthur and Arthur County were named for Chester A. Arthur, America’s twenty-first president. Researching a junior high school history assignment, the most compelling facts Cullen found about him were that Arthur was America’s fifth fattest president and owned eighty pairs of pants.
The community of eight thousand—at an elevation of four thousand feet above sea level—had nothing geographical, like a river or a canyon or an oasis, to warrant its location.
Arthur just was.
The flat monotony spread in every direction. “Given a clear day,” Cullen was fond of saying, “you could climb a six-foot stepladder and see the earth curve.”
He often puzzled over the pioneers’ judgment. Certainly, more attractive locations waited further west. He supposed the settlers might have been tired and stopped to rest, thinking they would wait for a good rain to replenish their water supplies before they moved on. And when the livestock had all died of thirst, they were stuck.        
Still, despite this hardship, there grew a civilization defined geographically by dirt roads that formed the borders of all those perfectly square six hundred and forty-acre sections of land claimed by early twentieth century homesteaders.
As Cullen composed his answer to Lori’s query about Buddy, he thought of those section roads, and all the ways straight lines and straight laces had twisted the paths of this small group of friends.
“I told you about Christy Hammond, didn’t I?” Cullen answered. “The girl who was shot to death our sophomore year?”
Lori gave a little gasp. “That was Buddy? Oh, no. And he went to jail?”
“Juvenile detention. He pled guilty to manslaughter. They kept him until his eighteenth birthday. They took him away in November of 1966. He came back May of 1969.”
“At least he got to come back.”
Cullen gave a rueful laugh and shook his head.
“No, that was part of the punishment. A lot of people thought he should have been charged with murder. They thought he should have been sent away for life. When the judge didn’t agree, half the town was furious at the injustice of it all. Christy’s uncle is a lawyer. He convinced juvenile court authorities to make Buddy finish high school here as a condition of his release.”
“But why would they—”              
“It was their last shot at punishing him,” Cullen said. “They had a few weeks to give him hell when they knew he couldn’t fight back.”



About the Author

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Mike Murphey is a native of eastern New Mexico and spent almost thirty years as an award-winning newspaper journalist in the Southwest and Pacific Northwest. Following his retirement from the newspaper business, he and his wife Nancy entered in a seventeen-year partnership with the late Dave Henderson, all-star centerfielder for the Oakland Athletics, Boston Red Sox and Seattle Mariners. Their company produces the A’s and Mariners adult baseball Fantasy Camps. They also have a partnership with the Roy Hobbs adult baseball organization in Fort Myers, Florida. They love baseball, fiction, cats and sailing. They split their time between Spokane, Washington, and Phoenix, Arizona. Mike enjoys life as a writer and old-man baseball player.


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