The Blog of Sid Love is hosting a giveaway event for the readers and fans. This is your chance to win some ebooks for FREE – written by some well known M/M authors! The event began on 15th April, 2013, now being the second week of this big event. “Alex Carreras”, “Nephylim” and their books are featured for this purpose and this will go on till 30th April.
Sage Marlowe’s giveaway contest has ended. I wish to thank all those who took part in that giveaway and also, good luck to you! The winners of all the giveaways will be announced on May 1, 2013 and the books will be sent out to you by May 2! Till then, enjoy the on-going and upcoming giveaways…
Giveaway Contests that are still on:
ALEX CARRERAS: GIVEAWAY #5 (ENDS TODAY @ 11:59 PM)
NEPHYLIM: GIVEAWAY #6
Today’s featured author is the CHRIS QUINTON! The name that is quite popular, when it comes to M/M genred books. The author has had many bestsellers under her name and popular books such as “Finders, Keepers”, “Game on, Game Over”, “Starfall”, and many more! Her recently released Trilogy – “Fool’s Odyssey” is climbing the ladder of success as well.
And this is your chance to win one of her books!
Chris started creating stories not long after she mastered joined-up writing, somewhat to the bemusement of her parents and her English teachers. But she received plenty of encouragement. Her dad gave her an already old Everest typewriter when she was about ten, and it was probably the best gift she’d ever received – until the inventions of the home-computer and the worldwide web.
Chris’s reading and writing interests range from historical, mystery, and paranormal, to science-fiction and fantasy, mostly in the male/male genre. She also writes male/female novels in the name of Chris Power. She refuses to be pigeon-holed and intends to uphold the long and honourable tradition of the Eccentric Brit to the best of her ability. In her spare time [hah!] she embroiders, quilts and knits. In the past she has been a part-time and unpaid amateur archaeologist, and a 15th century re-enactor. She currently lives in a small and ancient city in the south-west of the United Kingdom, sharing her usually chaotic home with an extended family, two large dogs, fancy mice, sundry goldfish and a young frilled dragon (Australian lizard) aka Trogdorina.
Summary: When Xavi becomes an accidental witness to the murder of a wealthy woman he knows exactly what to do – get the hell out of there, fast! Xavi lives on the edge of the law; he and the police don’t exactly mix. Unfortunately the cop who is sent after him turns out to have some rather unusual abilities, so it isn’t long before their paths cross – which is roughly when Xavi begins to realise that getting caught may be the very least of his troubles.
Dateline: June 2042
Villa del Flores, Badalona and Police Headquarters, Barcelona
Xavi liked gold. Solid sunshine, it lay on his smooth, tanned skin and glowed. He smiled at his half-naked reflection in the cheval mirror, and hazel eyes gazed back at him, eyes that could look guileless or seductive with equal ease. His thick dark hair was combed and styled into place, and his mouth had a sensual swell to the under lip and a crisp shape to the upper. He turned his head a little and gauged the effect. Xavi had always considered his profile was like that of a Roman god-hero.
He touched his fingers to metal that was rapidly warming to his body-heat. It was a heavy curb chain, diamond-cut, its facets etched with fine arabesques, and it looked very good on him. There was more gold on Sophia’s dressing table, a careless tangle of necklaces and pendants and other assorted glitter that cost several fortunes, all treated with the same insouciance. But this one had been bought for him. She’d said she had a gift for him when she picked him up at their usual meeting place, but he hadn’t expected anything like this.
Sophia finished fastening the clasp at the back of his neck and kissed his shoulder as she came to stand beside him. “Beautiful,” she murmured.
“Yes,” Xavi said huskily. “You are.” But his eyes weren’t on her. He knew he looked good, knew that women were drawn to him like mares in season, and he reveled in it. Casually he drifted his hand down his body, caressed lightly over his taut nipples, and caught his breath at the tingling arousal ignited by the simple caress. Sophia gasped as well, pressing closer to him, her desire a tangible thing.
He chuckled and stroked down his belly, eased open the top button of his jeans to scroll through the fine line of dark hair that arrowed down to his hidden groin. Xavi didn’t wear underpants. His ladies found it a turn-on, knowing that all he wore between them and his cock was a single layer of fabric.
“Don’t tease,” Sophia whispered, her fingers loosening another button. “I have to be at the restaurant for lunch in half an hour…”
“I know,” he said smugly. “Go and meet your politician-friends, and think of me.” He let her slip her fingers inside his jeans and cup his genitals, then caught her wrist and lifted her hand to his mouth. At the same time he unfastened more buttons and freed his semi-erect penis, pumped it slowly, deliberately displaying himself in the mirror to arouse her even more. “I’ll be waiting for you.”
“Bastard!” She pouted and jerked free of his light hold, but she was smiling as she did so. Then a faint noise came from downstairs, a door shutting not quite quietly enough, perhaps. Yet the villa should be empty but for them. Sophia paled. “Ohmygod—Marco—he’s come home early!”
Xavi swore, fastening his jeans quickly. Of all the farcical situations—the stupid bitch had been so sure her husband was in Madrid until the weekend.
He took one swift glance at the windows and dismissed them at once. There was a three meter drop onto the terrace and he had no wish to risk broken bones. So he did the next best thing; he dived to the floor and rolled under the bed, grabbing his shirt and shoes on the way.
Sophia snatched up her robe and a book and threw herself onto the rumpled sheets. “Who’s there?” she called. “Is that you, sweetheart?”
A drape of linen partially obscured his view, but from where he lay, Xavi could see the mirror, and the foot of the bed and the door reflected in it. The door opened, and the dark silhouette of a man stood there. Not Marco Rodrigues, the body-shape was too tall, too broad-shouldered. He took a step into the room and Xavi saw a stranger’s face.
“Raoul?” Sophia, said surprise in her voice. “What are you—” Raoul raised his hand and the sunlight glinted off the barrel of his gun. Sophia screamed once, the sound cut off by the first shot.
Frozen in terror, Xavi could not move, and that probably saved his life. Three more shots rang out, each one punching through the bed in a line from pillow to midway down the mattress, the last two plowing into the floor only inches from his rigid body. If his bladder had not already been empty, Xavi would have pissed himself.
The thunder of his heart in his own ears was deafening. Surely this Raoul would hear it as well—but the man turned and walked out, shutting the door quietly behind him. Still Xavi couldn’t move. Blood soaked the loose sheet and dripped slowly off the bottom edge to spatter on the carpet, the smell of it mingling with feces and cordite to clog in his throat, and it was the steady pat-pat-pat into a widening pool that finally galvanized him into action.
A shuddering whine of horror broke from him, and Xavi rolled away from the spreading redness. He scrambled to his feet on the far side of the bed. Then he froze again. Sophia was dead. Very dead. One bullet had hit between her eyes, the others at breastbone, stomach and groin. Very precise, very deliberate. This was no passion-driven killing—this was an execution.
And he had witnessed it.
Xavi was at the door before commonsense stopped him. He had very little money, while Sophia was loaded and dead. Her purse lay on the dressing table and he pounced on it, jerked it open and filled his pockets with every coin and note he could find. The cards he left—any payment or withdrawal could be traced. Then the jewelry caught his eye.
Gold, gems, they could be fenced and Xavi had contacts in Barcelona’s back streets. He spread his shirt on the floor and dumped an indiscriminate double handful of treasure in the middle of it, then knotted the fabric into a bundle. He hurried to the security panel by the front door. Sophia had driven him here in her car, and she would have made sure his arrival hadn’t been monitored. One glance told him all the cameras were down. No one was going to have a record of him leaving the place.
He made for the deserted kitchen. From the trash container he retrieved a reasonably clean plastic bag with a local supermarket’s bright logo on both sides. He dropped his cache into it and let himself out the back door. Then, keeping to what cover he could find, he ran, not to the garage, but the boathouse below the terrace, and the small but powerful motor launch that was, as usual during the summer months, moored to the jetty. It was the work of seconds to hot-wire the ignition.
Xavi turned the boat for the open sea, and then accelerated south along the coast towards Barcelona and its busy marinas. Maybe he was being paranoid, maybe he wasn’t, but he wasn’t prepared to take chances. This was the safest way of getting back to his apartment, safer than taking Sophia’s car and driving. Just in case the killer—or whoever hired him—was watching the road. His fingerprints would be all over the room, but it was not only the police he was worried about.
Xavi Peres Escudero was going to disappear.
* * * * *
I bet that has got you hooked! To win a free copy of Fool’s Errand or any of the books Chris has generously agreed to offer today from her backlist, all you need to do is answer a simple question.
And the question is…
In what city, month and year is Fool’s Errand set?
PRIZE VAULT IS STUFFED!
To win this contest and take home a free copy of Chris Quinton’s books, reply to this post in the following format:
Message to the author:
Feilds marked * are necessary
Please note that all the comments for this contest will be under moderation and hidden from public view till 25th April, 2013.
Contest deadline: THURSDAY – 4/25/2013 – 11:59 PM Central Time
~~~ Chris Quinton ~ Writing Romance … Where Men Fall In Love With Men ~~~
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