If at the end of the treasure hunt there will be still unmatched excerpts the giveaway will go to the one who matched more books.
The books are:
A Hunted Man by Jaime Reese
A Kingdom Lost by Barbara Ann Wright
A Place for Cliff by Talon ps
A Special Kind of Folk by Barry Brennessel
About Face by VK Powell
Ancient House of Cards by Bryan T. Clark
Another Healing by M. Raiya
Antidote by Jack L. Pyke
Because of Jade by Lou Sylvre
Beloved Pilgrim by Christopher Hawthorne Moss
Better Than Friends by Lane Hayes
Bird of Paradise by G.J. Paterson
Bite of the Recluse by Azalea Moone & Anais Morgan
Bonds of Denial by Lynda Aicher
Brokenhearted by Cate Ashwood
Camellia by Caitlin Ricci & Cari Z.
Carnal Sacraments by Perry Brass
Caught! By JL Merrow
Chasing the Dragon by Kate Sherwood
Chip off the Ice Block Murder by Jessie Chandler
Clean Slate by Andrea Bramhall
Corruption by Eden Winters
Desire at Dawn by Fiona Zedde
Dirty Beautiful Words by Brooklyn Brayl
Dissonance by Shira Anthony
Dudek by Taylor James
Educating Simon by Robin Reardon
Fight by Kelly Wyre
Filthy Acquisitions by Edmond Manning
Firestorm by Rory Ni Coileain
Forever Hold His Peace by Rebecca Cohen
Forgive Us by Lynn Kelling
Fractured by Mickie B. Ashling
Freak Camp: Posts From a Previously Normal Girl by Jessica V. Barnett
FutureDyke by Lea Daley
Games Boys Play by Zoe X. Rider
Gathering Storm by Alexa Land
Gin & Jazz 1- 4 (4 novellas: Hollywood Bound, Razzle Dazzle, Tarnished Glitter and Starring Role) by Morticia Knight
Girls Don't Hit by Geonn Cannon
Great Pleasures by Edward Southgate
Greg Honey by Russ Gregory
Happy Independence Day by Michael Rupured
Hard Pressed by Sharon Maria Bidwell
Hell & High Water (THIRDS, Book #1) by Charlie Cochet
Highfell Grimoires by Langley Hyde
His Fair Lady by Kimberly Gardner
Hoaley Inexplicable by Declan Sands
How Still My Love by Diane Marina
Hungry for Love by Rick R. Reed
If I Die Before I Wake by Liz McMullen
If We Shadows by D.E. Atwood
Ink & Flowers by J.K. Pendragon
It's Like This by Anne O'Gleadra
Lab Rat's Love by Ana J. Phoenix
Lesbian Crushes at School: A Diary on Growing Up Gay in the Eighties by Natasha Holme
Let the Lover Be by Sheree L. Greer
Like Jazz by Heather Blackmore
Love and Salvage: Loving Emmett by Mathew Ortiz
Love Is A Stranger by John Wiltshire
Love You Forever by Amelia Bishop
Lovers and Liars by Paul Alan Fahey
Mark of Cain by Kate Sherwood
Masquerade by Joy Lynn Fielding
Measure of Peace by Caethes Faron
Mirage by Tia Fielding
More Than Everything by Cardeno C.
Motel. Pool. By Kim Fielding
Murder and the Hurdy Gurdy Girl by Kate McLachlan
Murder on the Mountain by Jamie Fessenden
My Brother's Lover by Lynn Kelling
Nightingale by Andrea Bramhall
No Angel by Clare London
Omorphi by C. Kennedy
On Archimedes Street by Jefferson Parrish
Paradise at Main and Elm by Barry Brennessel
Paris Connection by J.P. Bowie
Passage by Evey Brett
Pick Up the Pieces by Tinnean
Piper by Leona Carver
Rapture, Sins of the Sinners by Fran Heckrotte & A.C. Henley
Rarely Pure and Never Simple by Angel Martinez
Rasputin's Kiss by L.M. Somerton
Rest Home Runaways by Clifford Henderson
Resurrection Man by K.Z. Snow
Return of an Impetuous Pilot by Kate McLachlan
Rocky Mountain Freedom by Vivian Arend
Running Through A Dark Place by Michael J. Bowler
Saving Liam by DP Denman
Serpentine Walls by CJane Elliott
Shades of Sepia by Anne Barwell
Shameful Desires 3: Unbound by P.J. Proud
Shirewode by J Tullos Hennig
Silent by Sara Alva
Slide by Garrett Leigh
Something Like Spring by Jay Bell
Splinters by Thorny Sterling
Stitch by Eli Easton, Sue Brown, Jamie Fessenden & Kim Fielding
Summerville by H.L. Sudler
The 42nd Street Jerking-off Club by Mykola Dementiuk
The Calm Before by Neena Jaydon
The Dead Past by Kate Aaron
The Empath by Jody Klaire
The Engineered Throne by Megan Derr
The Family We Make by Kaje Harper
The Genealogy of Understanding by Daniel M. Jaffe
The House on Hancock Hill by Indra Vaughn
The Last Conception by Gabriel Constans
The Line by J.D. Horn
The Mating of Michael by Eli Easton
The Memory of Blood & Lotuses by E.E. Ottoman
The Opera House by Hans M. Hirschi
The River Within by Baxter Clare Trautman
The Seventh Pleiade by Andrew J. Peters
The Thief Taker by William Holden
This Is Not a Love Story by Suki Fleet
Tournament of Shadows by S.A. Meade
True Stories Too: People and Places From My Past by Felice Picano
Turnbull House by Jess Faraday
Zenith by Arshad Ahsanuddin
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Today excerpts are:
Jilo was the undisputed queen of Savannah’s root doctors, the large brim of her yellow sunhat shading cruel and mercenary eyes, her folding chair serving as the throne from where she ruled her empire. only a local fool or an outsider ignorant of Savannah’s ways would ever mistake Jilo as anything other than the powerful tyrant that she was.
A much younger woman followed in Jilo’s wake, scurrying to catch up to her. When she got in front of Jilo, she collapsed onto her hands and knees. “Mother! I beg of you! I want to take it back,” she half moaned, half screamed as she reached out, trying to catch the older woman by the ankle.
Even in the failing light, my eyes were dazzled by the colors of Jilo’s ensemble—a large daffodil yellow sun hat and a violently purple dress that probably once fit her but now hung loosely from her bones. Her outfit was jarring against the vibrant green of the folded lawn chair she was half carrying, half using as a cane and the small red cooler she was clutching in her other hand. I shuddered as I considered the likely contents of the cooler.
“What do you think is going on there?” one of my guys asked as I approached them.
“I think that is something we best stay out of,” I responded.
Jilo managed to avoid the woman’s frantic grasp, stopping to swat at her with the chair. “Jilo done told you it too late to take back.”
“But I was wrong,” the woman cried, ducking her head beneath her raised arms. “He never cheated on me.”
“Well that between you and yo’ man.” Jilo wheezed and took another lumbering step toward the gate of the cemetery.
“But he’s going to die, Mother!” The desperation in the woman’s voice was heartbreaking. The tall, paternal member of my group stepped in front of me, placing himself as a protective barrier between me and the unpleasant goings-on. Lord knows, growing up in Savannah, I’d seen much worse skirmishes than this little drama. I poked my head out around him.
“That right, he is,” Jilo responded, her voice as cold as ice water. “That what you done paid Jilo for.” The old woman straightened her back and coughed repeatedly, then bent and spat on the ground.
The trip back to the locker room was solitary. Nathan turned off his music. The heat came on and rumbled the building’s exposed rafters. The door swished on its hinges. Nathan passed by the privacy wall covered in fliers about supplements, classes, and personal training. The locker room had four rows of double-stacked lockers, and there were benches down the center of each of the aisles. The showers and bathrooms were at the end of a hallway to the left. Straight back were the steam room and the hot tub.
Nathan turned left, heading for the row of lockers where he’d stowed his things, and there Fury stood in nothing but a towel, as though waiting on Nathan to arrive. Nathan’s heart kicked his sternum, and he stifled a startled yelp that transformed into a low grunt.
The towel covered Fury to just above his knees, and he held it with one hand at his waist. The black hair on his legs stopped neatly at the sock line, and he wore battered red flip flops that made Nathan want to laugh. Nathan’s gaze traveled north, across Fury’s navel, stomach, chest, and up to Fury’s hair. It wasn’t in its braid, but loose and hanging almost to Fury’s shoulders. It dripped at the ends, and a drop of water dashed over Fury’s collarbone and darted over one dark nipple. The eyes of a jaguar gleamed from Fury’s tattoo sleeve, and Fury’s expression was eerily similar as he studied Nathan, very clearly returning the attention.
Nathan demanded himself to do something. Speak, go to the locker, go to Fury, run for the hills, something, but the air weighed heavily upon him, and it took effort to stay upright. Just seeing Fury made Nathan feel drunk and undone, and the rhythmic rise and fall of Fury’s chest, the damp skin, the smell of shampoo and soap, were turning Nathan on. Beneath his shorts, Nathan’s cock came to life, and Fury broke away to watch Nathan harden and make fabric shift and tent. Nathan started to adjust himself, but Fury’s eyes flicked to Nathan’s, and there was warning there. Nathan’s hand froze halfway to its destination, and Fury licked his lips.
All thought and protest momentarily died, and Nathan jerkily got moving. He brushed Fury’s arm on the way, and Nathan paused in the wide doorway that separated the locker room from the restroom facilities. He looked over his shoulder and saw that Fury now faced him, head tilted as though considering. Nathan made himself look directly at Fury, and Fury’s poker face relaxed into something softer. No less hungry, no less aggressive, but…kinder, somehow. A thrill whirled through Nathan, stirred up the butterflies in his stomach. He knew he would count this second as worth more than ten promotions or a hundred meaningless encounters.
Nathan couldn’t catch his breath, but he nodded toward the showers and shoved himself off the wall. Want and need scorched Nathan. He didn’t think he’d ever craved something or somebody this badly. He didn’t know if it was Fury, the desire to mess around with someone whose face Nathan would know later, or the lack of escapism in Nathan’s life at present, but he staggered along the row of bathing stalls. He didn’t check to see if Fury had followed, because if Fury hadn’t, Nathan wasn’t sure how he’d handle the rejection. He knew this was nuts, he knew he should stop, he knew all sorts of reasons to flee for the car, but none of the pleading rationale could get through the drumbeat thrumming in his veins, demanding more and demanding it now.
Each of Adrenaline Gym’s showers had swinging doors leading into small changing spaces. There was a bench for clothing and a hook for towels. Nathan shed his shorts, underwear, long-sleeved shirt, shoes, and socks. He left them in a scattered pile and lurched forward, yanking back the industrial, opaque shower curtain. The shower itself wasn’t large, maybe three-by-three, and its floor sloped toward a central drain. There was a tile shelf to hold personal toiletries, and Nathan grabbed the shelf for balance. He twisted the shower’s knob. Lukewarm water erupted from the showerhead and started to soak Nathan. He adjusted the temperature, and he shut his eyes under the spray.
Nathan waited, and when absolutely nothing happened for too many seconds too long, he started to tremble. He hated feeling this helpless, didn’t know why he did in the first place. Fury was just a man. This was just an invitation for some mutual relief. Wasn’t it?
Of course it was. It couldn’t be anything more. It didn’t make any sense to be so affected, but yet here Nathan was, at one a.m. in the gym showers, dying for Fury’s fucking company. Nathan was lost, out of his ever-loving mind, and he crossed one arm over his chest, hugging the opposite shoulder. His forehead met the wall, and when the curtain racked back, Nathan tensed so violently that his weight pitched onto the balls of his feet. The plastic rings clanked again along the overhead metal rod, and two fast thuds of pulse later, Fury’s hands landed lightly on Nathan’s hips.
Tag unlocked the apartment door, then shut it behind him. He kicked off his shoes and walked into the bathroom. The toilet flushed, water ran, and when Tag emerged, he wore only his tight underwear. He rubbed absently at the octopus on his chest. “’M going to sleep. You can watch TV if you want. Won’t bother me.” He pulled back the blankets and climbed into bed.
“Want me to get the light?” asked Jack.
Even with the light off, the room wasn’t completely dark. The curtains didn’t quite cover the window, and a security light shone brightly from the nearby building. Jack watched as Tag rearranged the pillows and rolled onto his side.
Tag yawned loudly. “Hmm?”
“Thanks. For tonight. And... for letting me stick around.” Jack wanted to say how much it meant to him, but he’d never been good with words unless he had a script.
“No problem,” Tag mumbled. He was already half-asleep.
With a relieved sigh, Jack let his clothing disappear. He made his way across the room and lay down next to Tag. But although he cradled the remote control in his hand, he didn’t turn on the television. Instead, he slid farther down and rolled to face the back of Tag’s neck, where dark curls grew in a tempting tangle. He’d always admired curly hair; his own grew blade straight.
He inhaled deeply, but as he expected, he couldn’t smell anything. No motel cleaning products, no musty carpet, no spicy warmth of Tag’s skin. He’d never thought much about scents when he was alive, but he realized now how important they were. An existence without them was strangely flat, even now that Jack could make himself solid.
But he could touch himself, couldn’t he? Man, he’d almost forgotten!
Stealthily, he allowed his hand to creep to his groin. Tag was fast asleep, snoring gently, but a bit of furtiveness seemed appropriate.
If it wasn't so cold, he'd have been enjoying the task. Elisedd aimed the hose into the deep crevices in the massive tires, battering out heavy clods of mud. Although the coveralls and gloves were adequate, his face prickled and his nose ran. The hose was attached to a pressure washer, meaning he had to pay attention to what he was doing. That was exactly what he wanted, though: distraction. He'd had to argue Zenna into letting him help out around the mine. They were obviously short-handed, as he saw engineers and technicians doing menial tasks, which was probably why she'd let him start doing odd jobs on the sly.
Birds came from Riagan every day, although none of them raised the subject of the unanswered question. Every time a bird arrived, Elisedd got a nervous thrill in his stomach. He wanted those messages, because he could so clearly hear Riagan's voice in his head when he read them. On the other hand, Riagan could push again for an answer Elisedd wasn't sure he had.
Riagan was so far beyond him. From his species to his social standing to his confidence, he was situated above Elisedd in the world. But it wasn't just Riagan's obvious desirability that kept him in Elisedd's mind. It was the weird lack of coldness that would come over him; he'd talk to Elisedd in the sort of tone Elisedd would use with Fife. And then there was the way he had of growing intent, interested, obvious in his desire, that made Elisedd's skin flush and his mouth go dry.
"It's effing everything," he muttered, raising the hose to get into the wheel wells. Water and old dirt spattered against his face. He flinched and changed aim.
Elisedd thought for a moment he'd conjured the baritone voice in his imagination. He slowly turned to stare, uncomprehending, at Riagan. Dressed in a fur-lined coat and standing with his arms crossed over his chest, Riagan gazed narrowly down at him. Elisedd belatedly realized he was letting the water batter wastefully at the cement and hastily turned the machine off.
"What the rot are you doing?"
Flushing, Elisedd tightened his grip on the spray wand. "Keeping myself busy."
"Who told you to do that?"
"Nobody. I asked for some work." Elisedd lifted his chin. "I got bored, and you've got technicians doing grunt work up here."
Riagan continued to eyeball him. Finally, he reached out to wipe dried mud off of Elisedd's cheek with his thumb and brushed it off on his other hand. He was so vibrant compared to the dull industrial world around him. Elisedd feared looking at his face too long. Physically, he had no doubts about Riagan.
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