RELEASE BLITZ & REVIEW - Beyond Identity by Karrie Roman

Title: Beyond Identity

Author: Karrie Roman

Publisher: NineStar Press

Release Date: September 2, 2019

Heat Level: 3 - Some Sex

Pairing: Male/Male

Length: 74200

Genre: Contemporary, LGBT, New Adult, college, depression,hurt-comfort, friends to lovers

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Synopsis

Noah Lancaster’s life is a mess. He doesn’t know much about his past or who is parents really were. When he’s beaten on the streets one night while sleeping rough, the attack doesn’t feel like just another random assault on a vulnerable target. Somebody wanted Noah dead. But who’d want to hurt him? He’s a nobody who doesn’t know where he came from or who he truly is.

Harry Cooper wants to launch his career as an investigative journalist by telling the stories of the hardships faced by the homeless. His latest subject was lucky to survive a brutal attack—the mean
streets almost swallowing him up like so many others. Noah is a mystery to Harry and it seems to the man himself.

When Noah’s attack brings these two men together, neither could imagine they’re about to be pulled into a mystery one hundred and thirty years old—and half a world away. They’re about to discover a
secret someone has already killed once to protect and one that might get them both killed.

Sometimes who you are goes far beyond who you thought you were.

Review 

My Rating - 4.5 Stars!

Karrie Roman's Beyond Identity is a great read. 

From the start, I fell in love with Noah. He's an absolutely loveable character, homeless and attacked while on the streets. He meets Harry when the reporter comes to interview him about being attacked while homeless.

What follows is a good mystery, with twists and turns I certainly never saw coming. The two begin on an adventure neither could have ever expected. 

Their tale includes danger, action, suspense, and a sweet romance.

Their relationship evolves naturally, as they spend time together, trying to protect and save Noah. These two are just super sweet together. It's beautiful watching them on their journey towards love. And in the end, their story is about finding someone who's good for you; someone who makes you smile.

And Harry's Pearl, omg, best scene ever! You'll just have to read to find out.

The writing is great, with two well developed characters, a well done mystery, and an overall tender love story. 

Beyond Identity is a riveting mystery romance by Karrie Roman. It's a whole lot of fun and I am once again left impressed by this author. 

Excerpt

Beyond Identity

Karrie Roman © 2019

All Rights Reserved

Noah had been here before. People didn’t have sporadic stints of living on the streets and expect to escape the occasional bashing. An assault could come from anywhere—another rough sleeper,
a junkie, pimp, or sometimes from some teenage twat who thought they were being hilarious beating the shit out of someone whose life had already kicked them in the teeth. When someone was homeless, they were either invisible or a goddamn target. The fucking irony.

This was different though. This wasn’t some son of a bitch grabbing the nearest body and laying his fists into them. Noah had been stalked. He’d watched this bastard skip first one and then the
next rough sleeper he’d come across in the alley until he’d spotted Noah.

Noah recognised what the man wanted, could tell by the tense set of his shoulders, the white knuckles of his clenched fists. He wanted to make Noah hurt. Sensing danger became heightened when surrounded by it day and night with no locked door to offer even the illusion of safety. So, when he’d first spotted this man, Noah had wanted to run, he’d never wanted to run so desperately in his life. But he had nowhere to go. He’d chosen poorly the night before—a rookie mistake, though he was no
rookie to sleeping on the streets.

He’d been so damn exhausted, when searching for a spot to lay his head, he hadn’t cared that there’d been no second exit, no escape route in this alleyway. He’d trapped himself, and a monster had walked right into his trap. But Noah was the one caught in the deadly snare.

Noah could fight. He was scrappy, no finesse, no training, but he could throw a half-decent punch. He was capable of delivering a hit to make his opponent think twice about going after him, and if
that didn’t work, he knew how to bite, kick, scratch; hell, he’d go for the alls if he had to. Another thing learned on the street if someone wanted to survive was to use every weapon in their arsenal.

The monster coming for him was tall, not the biggest man Noah had ever seen, but definitely the biggest one he’d ever had to fight. The darkness shadowed his features, but he knew the eyes were
bleak, cruel; he’d seen a flash of them in the streetlight near the top of the alleyway, or maybe his imagination was making the man’s physicality as sinister as his demeanour. Noah felt those eyes on him. Glaring. And he wondered what the hell he’d done to this guy to piss him off so badly.

Noah stood, legs wide, shoulders high, chest out, trying to make himself appear as big as possible. From the man’s bearing and manner, it was evident he had next to no chance of scaring this guy
off, but he had to try. Any fight he didn’t end up actually fighting was a win.

Much of his time on the street Noah was alone, but never more so than when some fucker decided to take a potshot at him. He didn’t really blame anyone for their indifference. They lived in a
don’t-get-involved kind of world and when no one had their back having someone else’s could be very hard.

The man kept coming. He was close now, close enough to allow Noah to see him more clearly. His eyes were as cruel as Noah had thought, but the rest of his face he’d describe as a baby face, soft,
almost sweet-looking. His cheeks were puffed as though full of cotton wool, a perfectly shaped snub nose sat above rich red cupid’s bow lips pulled into a sneer. Without more light he was unable to pick accurate skin and hair colour, but he’d guess fair for both.

Noah raked his gaze quickly down the man’s body. He was muscular but not hulk-like. He had no obvious weapon, though from the size of his hands, Noah suspected he’d be able to do plenty of damage with those alone.

He wondered if the man would speak. Sometimes they did, especially the arsehole teens who, for whatever reason, felt the need to justify why they were beating the shit out of their victim, all while bragging amongst themselves about how tough they were.

Faster than he’d have thought possible, the man lashed out. Noah’s head snapped back, and a spray of blood bloomed from his nose, the sickening crack turning his stomach. He hadn’t had a chance to
move. The stranger’s speed and accuracy confirming to Noah this man was no amateur—and Noah was in big trouble.

Before his head had even righted, he took a blow to his stomach, the force of it doubling him over. He gasped for air, trying to suck in big gulps through his mouth. The man’s knee connected with
his already broken nose before he could catch his breath, and the follow-up blow to the back of his head sent him to his knees.

Noah didn’t stand a chance; he understood how dire his situation was now. This man was a professional—he knew what he was doing.

His vision was darkening, tiny purple-black spots making it difficult for him to see clearly. He lashed out with a fist, connecting with what he thought was the man’s thigh. He wondered if his attacker even felt the blow there was so little power behind it.

The man aimed for his head again, but somehow Noah managed to dodge backwards so the blow was only glancing. Unlike in the movies, Noah knew a normal person couldn’t take too many direct,
powerful hits to their head without substantial damage or worse. His focus was scattered, not sharp enough for him to decide what to do about the punches raining down on him though. Did he duck and cover, hope to ride out the attack while protecting his head? Or did he try to get up and fight?

He kind of roll crawled to put some distance between them but the man charged relentlessly after him. Noah kicked out with his leg. He tried to aim for the man’s knee, but his head was spinning
worse than the one time he’d had way too much whisky. He wasn’t sure where his foot ended up connecting, but his attacker only grunted and kept coming.

Noah curled into a ball, pulling his head down to his chest and wrapping his arms around the vulnerable area. He felt a sharp hard kick to his back and then another. He tried to roll to his
knees, but the bastard wouldn’t relent even a little.

“Hey! You there!” A booming voice called.

Noah’s attacker stopped immediately. He heard running footsteps and glanced out from beneath his arms just in time to see the man sprint down the alley, barrel into a man and woman at the opening,
and keep right on running. He didn’t have the energy to move, much less chase after him or even call out for help. He closed his eyes and groaned.

He wasn’t quite sure what happened to time then—it either slowed down or sped right up. He was too out of it to know which. He heard voices, vaguely registered they were occasionally talking to him, but he couldn’t be fucked answering. He wanted to sleep. His eyes were welded shut—they had to be—but lights flashed continually behind them. There were more voices and then some arsehole was poking and prodding at him. It was the strangest thing—as though he was there but wasn’t.

One minute he was curled up on the cold, filthy concrete and then suddenly, he was being jostled around in some kind of vehicle. Ambulance, probably—at least he hoped it wasn’t a cop car. He smelled pee and knew it was his, but he didn’t have the wherewithal to be ashamed. He was amazed he was capable of smelling at all, given he was sure his nose must be shattered in a million pieces. Mixed with the acidic pee was the coppery stench of blood.

Someone was asking him for his name. He thought his name was Noah, but everything was a bit hazy. He couldn’t for the life of him think of his last name.

“Can you tell me your name?” the voice asked again.

“Shh. I’m sore,” he replied, though the words were so slurred he didn’t know if he’d be understood.

He heard a soft chuckle and then that damn voice again. “I know you’re sore, but can you tell me your name.”

“Noah,” he groaned, so the voice would shut up.

“Noah, do you have any allergies?”

Jesus fucking Christ, didn’t this idiot know he just had the stuffing beaten out of him? He didn’t give a shit about allergies. He groaned again. The fucker could take his whimpered reply however
he wanted.

“I’ll take that as a no. I’m going to give you a shot of morphine. Have you had anything to drink tonight?”

“Don’t drink.” Fuck, the slurring was getting worse. He shook his head no to make sure this guy would understand him. He felt like his goddamn brain was rattling around in his skull.

“Okay, good. Here we go then, just a small pinch.”

Noah felt a bite—a fucking painful one—in his arse cheek. “Fuck,” he spat. Small pinch my arse.

“I know, sorry. Morphine shots kinda hurt.”

“Arsehole,” he groaned. Every part of him hurt, but hopefully the morphine would kick in soon. He knew he was being taken to a hospital but wished he wasn’t. He wished he could talk them into
letting him out now. With his veins full of morphine to dull the pain, he’d be okay. He’d find somewhere to curl up for a while and sleep it off. But they had their duty of care and blah, blah, blah. He’d sign something to say they did all they could, and he’d happily take the blame if he died from his injuries on the street.

He hated hospitals, loathed anywhere really that put him on the radar. He was no criminal, and he wasn’t on the runbut the idea of anyone knowing exactly where he was sent shivers up his spine
for no particular reason except that’s just the way he was made.

Hands busied themselves all over his body. He had neither the energy nor the ability to open his eyes and watch what they were doing. From the noises being made and the sensations on his skin, they were putting in an IV and attending to his wounds. Noah floated happily on his morphine cloud, content to lie back and let those hands have their way with him. He still wished he wasn’t headed for a hospital, but he’d keep the worry for when the drugs wore off.

He felt the cold air rush in when the doors of the ambulance were yanked open. His body was jostled around when the stretcher was pulled from the back, though he knew they were trying to be
careful—that pesky duty of care. He really tried to peel at least one eyelid open when he heard voices gathered over him, discussing him as if he wasn’t there. He heard them say assault and concussion and lucky. He didn’t care about any of it. He was in no pain now, and all his other worries seemed far off, silly, unimportant.

He heard them say something about topping the dose, and then even the haziness in his brain faded as he drifted away.

Purchase

NineStar Press | Amazon | Smashwords

Meet the Author

Karrie lives in Australia’s sunshine state with her husband and two sons, though she hates the sun with a passion. She dreams of one day living in the wettest and coldest habitable place she can find. She has been writing stories in her head for years but has finally managed to pull the words out of her head and share them with others. She spends her days trying to type her stories on the computer without disturbing her beloved cat Lu curled up on the keyboard. She probably reads far too much.

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Giveaway

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RELEASE BLITZ - Another Dance by LA Ashton

Title: Another Dance

Author: L.A. Ashton

Publisher: NineStar Press

Release Date: July 8, 2019

Heat Level: 3 - Some Sex

Pairing: Male/Male

Length: 24500

Genre: Contemporary, LGBT, Reporter, journalist, figure skater, dancing,
angst, international, men with pets

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Synopsis

Kaito Watanabe has finally nabbed an interview with his idol, Cristian Alvarez. Kaito is a journalist who’s spent his entire life looking up to the figure-skating champion. Cristian’s passion on the ice unearthed a love of dance in Kaito and made him believe in the power of artistic expression.



Now Kaito is face-to-face with the man he’s always admired. He believes himself insignificant and ordinary, a moth drawn to the light Alvarez casts. He can’t allow himself to believe Cristian’s flirtations are anything but natural charm—but Cristian has other plans. The tension pitches higher, legs and fingers intertwine, and Kaito begins to wonder if his fantasies have a shot at becoming reality.

Review 

My Rating - 3 Stars!

I was excited by the blurb for LA Ashton's Another Dance. Upon reading it however, I found it fell short of my expectations.

Kaito gets his journalistic chance of a lifetime, getting to interview his hero, ice dancer Cristian. They have a quick connection, but still have their struggles, and doubts. A quick story, I found it to be okay, but I didn't connect to the characters very much.

Excerpt

Another Dance
L.A. Ashton © 2019
All Rights Reserved

Kaito adjusted the cinch of his tie.

The ice shifted in his glass before condensation trembled down the side, pooling atop the polished cherrywood of the table. Throughout his career as a journalist, Kaito had become accustomed to places like these. Hotel restaurants, hotel bars, hotels, hotels, hotels.

And while this hotel restaurant wasn’t unlike the others, the situation was different. That’s what had Kaito adjusting his tie every thirty seconds and fidgeting against the creaking vinyl of his seat. He put his head in his hands. Was he sweating? Had he worn enough deodorant to disguise the smell of fear he was most definitely emitting?

Cristian Alvarez is a man, not a supernatural predator.

Kaito checked his phone for the umpteenth time, then flipped it facedown onto the table.

Even if Cristian wasn’t a predator, Kaito almost always felt like prey.

At least this place was pretty. The hotel was done in soft reds and golds, and the lighting was warm. It was bright enough to feel good to the eyes, but dim enough to render everything in gorgeous softness and shadow. Smooth jazz drifted from unseen speakers, building ambiance around piano keys and sultry notes of brass.

His gaze flittered to the entryway, checking once again to see if the inward swing of the door brought with it a figure skating champion and the subject of Kaito’s adoration for his entire adult life.

It didn’t.

He looked down at the puddle left by his drink and tapped at his distorted reflection. Dark almond eyes hid behind thick-framed glasses and a splay of dark hair. He wasn’t notable—just a nearsighted guy who loved cats and figure skating. How he’d nabbed an interview with his childhood idol, he wasn’t sure. But he couldn’t turn it down, and he couldn’t run away, so at this point he only hoped he didn’t make a fool of himself.

The floor outside the curved wall of Kaito’s booth was wide open and lit with chandeliers. It was probably meant for banquets and gatherings, but the unoccupied space as it stood now looked meant for dancing.

Kaito trapped the straw of his drink with his lips. Kaito’s childhood obsession with ballroom dance was how he’d discovered Cristian in the first place. He’d watched professional dancers all his life, and it felt so natural for that interest to bleed into ice dancing and figure skating. Even if Kaito would never attempt the sorts of stunts they performed on the ice, their passion and interpretation made his heart long to tell its own stories through performance. Cristian, in particular, had inspired him—he moved like his limbs were propelled solely by the music, like he could hold it tangibly in his hands and spin it into a stunning waltz.

Kaito took lesson after lesson of ballroom dance, and eventually taught his two left feet to interact gracefully. He had never been truly outstanding—there was always a threshold of talent he couldn’t quite breach. He could impress a room full of untrained people, and as painful as the resignation was, he realized it had to be enough.

He missed it though. He stared at the open floor and imagined his feet carouseling over one another, turning smoothly to the piano and violin. He hadn’t danced in a long time. It would be nice…

“Are you Kaito Watanabe?”

Kaito rocketed out of his seat so fast he knocked against the table and almost spilled his drink. “Y-Yes,” he answered, compulsively pushing up his glasses. “And you’re”—he extended his hand forward, and even as he stared right at him, the words sounded like a dream—“Cristian Alvarez.”

Cristian’s smile splashed across his face like it was the easiest thing in the world. Dark curls fell over his forehead, forming perfect glossy spirals. He was tall, three or four inches taller than Kaito, with broad shoulders that made Kaito feel small.

You know that already; you know his height and weight like your own phone number.

But it was more mesmerizing in person, to be forced to tilt his chin up toward that face. “Yes,” Cristian answered, taking Kaito’s hand in his. “Thank you for the invitation.”

“Thank you for accepting.” Cristian’s hands were soft. His handshake was firm. Kaito mimicked the pressure, neither meek nor confident enough to do anything else.

“I hope your flight went well,” Kaito said as he withdrew his hand and settled back into his seat. He was a twittering ball of nerves, and he felt the stark contrast between his panicked motions and Cristian’s naturally graceful ones.

Cristian shrugged off his coat before sliding in across from Kaito. “Yes, it was quite pleasant. An easy ride.”

“That’s good.” Kaito became far too flirty and sharp-mouthed when he drank, but he also became less of a stuttering mess. He leaned forward to take a sip of his drink, intent on finding a balance.

“You’re quite the journalist, Kaito Watanabe.”

Kaito almost spit. Instead he coughed, covering his mouth politely. “Excuse me? I mean thank you. But you’re too kind.”

Cristian canted his head to the side. “Hmm, am I? Publishing articles in English and Japanese, procuring a large following from your blog alone, freelancing for many major outlets…” He set his chin in his palm and smiled. “I was impressed.”

Kaito folded his hands in his lap to hide the tremors running through his fingers. “All journalists have to work to make their voices heard, I believe…”

“But you write beautifully,” Cristian said. Thick dark lashes framed the bronze simmer of his eyes. Kaito went absolutely motionless, as if he were on the verge of shock or death. He can’t be saying—

“I read a lot of your pieces,” Cristian said before chuckling. “The ones in English, anyway.”

Oh my god, that’s what he’s saying.

Horror and excitement worked in equal parts to send earthquake-level tremors through Kaito’s limbs. Cristian Alvarez had read his work?

“Wow, I had no idea—” Kaito swallowed. “Whi—” Don’t ask which ones; it’ll seem like you’re asking for proof. He pushed his glasses up on his nose. “What, uh—” Don’t ask what he liked about them; it will look like you’re fishing for compliments. “Why—” Don’t ask why he looked you up; it’s because you were scheduled to interview him!

Kaito cleared his throat and beamed across the table. “I really don’t know what to say.”

Cristian seemed unfazed by Kaito’s sputtering. “You don’t have to say anything. Your writing makes every entry a pleasure to read.”

Purchase

NineStar Press | Amazon | Smashwords | Barnes & Noble | Kobo

Meet the Author

L.A. Ashton is an LGBT+ author writing LGBT+ fiction. They enjoy rock music, traveling, and anything else that adds color to their daydreams. They believe in the healing properties of art and of having a cat firmly stationed on one’s lap.

Website | Facebook | Twitter | Tumblr

Giveaway

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FF - Media Darling by Fiona Riley

Amazon Link

Goodreads Link

Blurb

Hayley Carpenter has always dreamed of being a famous screenwriter, but dreams don’t pay bills and LA living isn’t cheap. So when a temp position at a celebrity gossip magazine becomes available, she goes after it.

Emerson Sterling has been acting since she was little, but a rough patch as a teenager has given her a bad rap in Hollywood. Just when she thinks her dream role can turn around the public’s image of her, a conflict with her co-star and America’s Sweetheart, Rachel Blanche, puts her on the front cover of every magazine, the villain once again.

Rumors swirl that the starlets’ feud started in the bedroom, and Hayley accidentally overhears a conversation between Emerson and Rachel that could lead to the biggest scoop of her career. Will Hayley follow the story, or will her irresistible attraction to Emerson and the secrets Emerson is desperate to keep buried ruin both their careers...and their chance at love?

Review 

My Rating - 4 Stars!

Media Darling is a fun and unique lesbian romance by Fiona Riley.

When the mysterious Emerson starts getting negative press, she hires Hayley to write her story. Of course, neither want to mix business and pleasure, but their attraction is too strong to hold off forever.

Emerson is lost, confused and unsure of how to proceed. 

Their story is interesting, as Hayley learns what a multi-layered and complex woman Emerson is. This makes the story interesting, as we get to see a lot of the problems that accompany being a Hollywood actress, or famous in general. There's scorned lovers, fake stories, and the problems with the paparazzi. 

Their romance is a slow burn, with a few steamy scenes. Of course, their course will not be easy, as they aren't supposed to get involved, and mistakes will be made. And as they get close, Hayley will have a tough time writing an unbiased article. We also have some mystery which is well done.

Overall, I think Media Darling's a good lesbian romance and I'd recommend it.