Hollywood Lighting by J.V. Speyer Blitz & Giveaway

Hollywood Lighting

J.V. Speyer

Publication date: April 23rd 2020

Genres: Contemporary, LGBTQ+, Romance

A rowdy superstar in danger. His resentful new guardian. It’s hate at first sight until love takes an unexpected encore.

Closeted actor Owen fears failure and betrayal. So after he’s stabbed by a crazy fan, the movie studio offers a hunky bodyguard for protection. Suspicious that the ripped security man is just a gossip-seeking plant, he pushes back at his bulging biceps, ignoring the chemistry.

Newly retired SEAL Jamal is having a hard time adjusting to civilian life. Reluctantly taking a Hollywood job for a bad boy with tight abs, he’s sure the star is simply paranoid. But when he discovers the sexy celebrity is in serious jeopardy, he doesn’t hesitate to jump into action mode.

As the peril hits closer to home, Owen finds himself falling for the handsome hero fighting for his life. And as the threats intensify, Jamal fears he might lose the man he has come to love.

Will Owen and Jamal go down in a catastrophic climax, or will they star in their own happy ending?

Hollywood Lighting is the red-hot first book in the Bodyguards M/M contemporary romance series. If you like tortured heroes, intense predicaments, and steamy affairs, then you’ll adore J. V. Speyer’s tale of LGBT passion.

Buy Hollywood Lighting to let desire take centerstage today!

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—

EXCERPT:

Owen sat back in his chair and tried not to fidget. He didn’t want to come off as bored, even if he didn’t actually see the point of being where he was. He had two other projects going on right now, both of which could have moved faster through production if he were on set. Instead he was here, cooling his heels and waiting for Ryan to finish a scene that should have been done three hours ago.

“Cut!” Drew threw his megaphone into Jamal’s arms. Jamal wasn’t expecting it, but he was a SEAL or had been, anyway. He caught the thing easily. Owen tried not to moon about it.

“Ryan, we’ve been over this fifteen times. For fifteen takes. Owen’s been hanging out here for three hours he could have spent working on his other projects, because we were supposed to have been working on his scenes by now. The only way we can make all of this work is by sticking to the schedule. That means we can’t run a scene fifteen times because you don’t know your right from your left.”

Ryan didn’t look like a robot up on the set. He looked like a collection of parts made from children’s modeling clay, badly stuck together and then half-baked. If parts started falling off, Owen wouldn’t be surprised in the least.

“‘Scuse me if I don’t prioritize Pretty Boy’s fucking side gigs.” Ryan staggered over to his chair, on Jamal’s other side, and grabbed for his water bottle. He chugged half of it down, threw it toward the wall, and turned to a pretty little blonde PA who’d been lurking nearby. “Sandra, darlin’, why don’t you nip into my trailer and grab me another one of these?”

The PA, who might or might not have been named Sandra, winked at Ryan and sauntered off toward the trailers. Owen turned back to his phone and made his best effort not to seem at all interested in Ryan’s going on. Ryan’s drunkenness was not news.

Drew took a deep breath. “What Owen is or is not doing with his time isn’t the issue. The fact is, the entire crew is here longer than they need to be because you can’t remember your lines. You can blame Owen’s side projects, you can blame Mercury retrograde, you can blame the writing, but at the end of the day everyone else manages to get the job done. You’re the only one consistently holding up production. You need to get your shit together, Ryan. You’ve been in the business long enough to be more professional than this. You should have more respect for the crew if not your cast mates.”

Ryan staggered, and then he lurched. “Like anyone could have any respect for that prima donna. Look at him, sitting there on his phone. Probably coordinating some kind of drug deal right now.”

Owen glanced at his texts. He’d turned off notifications simply because he didn’t have anyone to text him anything important. Silvia didn’t contact him often, thinking he was a drug-addled degenerate thanks to the gossip sites and their shared parent. Izzy couldn’t contact him, and Dan would call or email. Chris was usually on site with him.

No one else would bother. He might hope Jamal would contact him someday, especially after that amazing night before production started on Hamlet. He wasn’t going to count on it, though.

As he scrolled through the usual crap – mostly automated junk – one message caught his eye. His stepmother’s parents, Linda and George, lived up in Colorado. Silvia had managed to get away from their dad and gone to live with them maybe a year ago. Owen got along a little bit better with all three of them now that they understood what was going on with their son in law better, but he still wouldn’t call their relationship one of trust and affection. They didn’t reach out, as a general rule.

When he saw their number in his incoming texts, he froze. Were they looking for money? Was something wrong with Silvia?

The only way to find out was to click on the text.

On set, Drew’s face had gone bright red. “I don’t care if he’s personally taking over for El Chapo, he knows his lines and he’s where he’s supposed to be when he’s supposed to be there. It’s more than I can say for you.”

Owen opened the text. There wasn’t a lot to read, but the Carsons hadn’t ever been the most verbose people. Not with Owen, anyway. Your father challenged us for custody of Silvia. He won, effective immediately. He took her back to Orange County today. There were no further messages.

Owen’s stomach sank. Silvia hadn’t confided in him. They hadn’t been close, but Owen knew what kind of man his father was. If Silvia had fled to Colorado, he’d already started pushing her to start a “show biz” career. And his contacts weren’t on the lighter side of Hollywood – not anymore.

He typed out a response. Thanks for letting me know. You may hear from the LAPD. Please cooperate with them. There’s not a lot I can do because of the restraining order, but I’m going to do everything I can.

On set, Ryan spun around to try to get a good look at Drew. His balance wasn’t able to keep up with his intentions, and he pitched forward off the sound stage and onto the ground.

Author Bio:
J J. V. Speyer writes LGBTQ+ romance novels heavily flavored with suspense, mystery, and adventure. She has lived in upstate New York and rural Catalonia before making the greater Boston, Massachusetts area her permanent home. She currently lives just south of Boston in a house old enough to remember when her town was a tavern community with a farming problem.
J. V. finds most of her inspiration from music. Her tastes run the gamut from traditional to industrial and back again. When not writing is a baseball fan, a hockey mom, and a devotee of all things weird and creepy about New England.
J. V. can be found on Twitter at @JVSpeyer, or on Facebook at https://www.facebook.com/JVSpeyerAuthor

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Under His Skin by J.V. Speyer Blitz & Giveaway

Under His Skin 

J.V. Speyer 

Publication date: October 26th 2019

Genres: Adult, LGBTQ+, Romance, Suspense

A brilliant scientist out to save the world. A jaded agent looking to save the one he lost. And a conspiracy that spans oceans, reaching into the deepest parts of American national security.

Lennon is a genius. He’s devoted his energy and his time to designing products to save lives. He’s gotten rich doing it, too. This time he’s created something to revolutionize war, crime, and policing – a bullet that heals. He’s on top of the world and the one thing he needs is someone to share it with. The one he loved disappeared without a trace years ago, and until he gets closure he can’t commit.

Ben is an agent with an agency so secretive for years people didn’t know it existed. He screwed up years ago and fell in love with the man he was supposed to be guarding. Now his lost love is in danger again. He’s developed a product bad actors all over the world will want to get their hands on. When Ben’s superiors order him back to Lennon’s side, he goes without hesitation. There’s only one catch – Lennon can’t know he’s there.

When one of those bad actors strikes, all the rules go out the window. Can Lennon overcome his mistrust once he knows the truth about Ben? When the enemy turns up the heat, will Ben manage to save Lennon from people who want him to kill?

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—

EXCERPT:

Ben checked his look in the mirror. Everyone had their “thing,” something that would throw the entire meeting or experience off for them, and there was nothing that could rescue it. For Ben, it was talking to someone who had food stuck in their teeth. Anyone reporting to him knew that they needed to clean their teeth before stopping in for a meeting.

Ben’s commanding officer, Agent Dickinson, had a thing about people’s ties. They had to be perfectly straight and not askew in any way. Ben could remember coming out of a fight with a spy from a drug cartel, trying to make an immediate report to Agent Dickinson, and getting dressed down because his tie was crooked. Ben had been bleeding from a stab wound at the time. Agent Dickinson had been so distracted by the messy tie he couldn’t see the blood.

Ben wasn’t bleeding now. He had no legitimate excuse to be slovenly. He straightened his tie and brushed a few pieces of lint from the jacket as well. Then he headed out to go and face Agent Dickinson.

Dickinson waited for him in his office. A giant American flag stood behind him. Dickinson wasn’t usually that guy. They all knew where they were and who they were working for; they didn’t need to be clubbed over the head with it every time they walked into a room. The ever- present flags had come in with the new administration. Every room had to have a flag now. It was a mandate. Every room had to have a flag, and every lapel had to have a flag pin. Apparently the new president thought people would get confused without them.

“Siddown, Kellogg.” Dickinson drummed his fingertips on the desk for a moment and then he sighed. “It looks like we’ve got a burgeoning situation in Boston.”

Ben felt a twinge in his heart, but he ignored it. An agent wasn’t supposed to get twinges in his heart. An agent shouldn’t have felt anything for someone in his charge to begin with. Besides, Lennon had almost certainly moved on a long time ago. He probably had a movie star partner now. Maybe he’d married a model. Maybe they stood around looking gorgeous together on the red carpet.

“Kellogg!” Dickinson slapped his hand on his desk, making Ben jump. “You paying attention or you going to sit there and gather wool on the taxpayers’ dime?”

“Sorry sir.” Ben straightened up and forced his brain to focus. “Just trying to think of which Boston situation you could be referring to.”

Dickinson acknowledged Ben’s point with an incline of his head. “That place always was a hotbed of sedition. I’m talking about the ongoing operation at Interior, Inc.”

Ben had been trained to show no reaction to any stimuli, so he was able to keep his face neutral and relaxed when his supervisor mentioned Lennon’s company. Ben had very carefully not followed the company’s progress, at least not where anyone could track him. He didn’t want to get bitter toward the Agency. “I’ve been kept in the dark about the operation at Interior, sir.”

“And for good reason, too. You’ve been kept in the dark because you couldn’t keep it in your pants, and don’t think I’ve forgotten that.” Dickinson waved a finger at Ben. “But it’s been a good decade since then. With any luck, the threat can be neutralized without any issues at all. No one will ever need to know you were involved.”

Ben couldn’t help but close his eyes at that. He didn’t have any choice about it, of course. An agent couldn’t choose his assignments. It seemed egregiously cruel to put him on an assignment this close to Lennon and not let him speak to or see his old lover, but the Agency didn’t choose its assignments for the agents’ benefit.

He opened his eyes again. He would do what he had to. He knew Dickinson wouldn’t ask it of him lightly. “Okay. What’s the threat and what’s behind it?”

Dickinson nodded once, a little bit of grudging pride showing through in the gleam of his eyes. “You know what Interior does, correct?”

Author Bio:

J. V. Speyer has lived in upstate New York and rural Catalonia before settling in the greater Boston area. She has worked in archaeology, security, accountancy, finance, and non-profit management. She currently lives just south of Boston in a house old enough to remember when her town was a tavern community with a farming problem. (No, really. John Adams complained about it. A lot.)

When not writing, J. V. enjoys watching baseball and seeking out all of New England’s creepiest spots. Her Spawn has turned her into a hockey enthusiast. She can be bribed with gin, tequila, and cats.

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Rites of Spring by J.V. Speyer Blitz & Giveaway

Rites of Spring

J.V. Speyer

(Rites #1)

Publication date: September 10th 2019

Genres: Adult, Paranormal, Suspense

Cameron has built a good life for himself despite his rough start. He can’t trust enough for romance, but he’s okay with that. He’s got good money coming in as a graphic designer and just inherited a duplex in Plymouth from his estranged grandfather, so he doesn’t have to worry about keeping a roof over his head. He likes his tenants, he has friends, and he’s content with that.

When two guys claiming to be paranormal investigators show up on his doorstep tell him the tenants contacted them about “phenomena” in the house, he knows they’re con men right away. For one thing, they claim he was the tenant. He sends them packing. It doesn’t matter that one of the con artists is the hottest guy Cameron has seen in years – if anything, that just makes Cameron more suspicious.

Then things go wrong in the house, things he can’t shrug off or ignore. The past Cameron has worked so hard to leave behind is coming for him, and it’s angry.

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—

EXCERPT:

Okay, if Cameron ignored his personality, Jason was everything Cameron usually went for. He was tall, he was strong (or at least looked strong), and the black leather jacket did things to Cameron that he’d never been able to explain.

He didn’t like the attitude. He didn’t like the contempt that he’d seen in Jason. Jason had clearly assumed that he and Reid could just walk up to him and say, “Boo! We’re ghost hunters, here to rescue you!” and Cameron would roll over and obey. Jason had a lot to learn about people if he thought they worked like that. Cameron had never been very good at taking orders, and the idea that someone was just going to come up to him and say “Do what I say because I said so” filled him with an irrational anger.

He wanted to wipe the arrogance off that smug, self-satisfied face.

Jason might be hot, but he was arrogant. He was also volatile, which Cameron did not need in his life. He’d had plenty of that already. What he needed now was stability, and he could afford to wait until he found it. He didn’t mind going without, even if it had been almost a year since he and Dustin had broken up.

He shook his head and laughed at himself. Putting the cart before the horse, don’t you think? Jason was hot, arrogant, volatile, whatever. Jason was also a con man trying to get into Cameron’s house for unknown reasons, not some guy messaging him on the dating app Grindr. Jason wasn’t attracted to Cameron. Jason wasn’t even pretending to be attracted to Cameron. Jason was probably straight.

Reid came off as the more stable of the pair, but the way that he spoke in measured tones made Cameron uneasy. He sounded like the guidance counselors and “advocates” that kept showing up in school and throughout the system; the ones they used to try to break you down and get you to tell them things you didn’t want to. Reid was probably the least trustworthy of the pair.

Author Bio:

J. V. Speyer has lived in upstate New York and rural Catalonia before settling in the greater Boston area. She has worked in archaeology, security, accountancy, finance, and non-profit management. She currently lives just south of Boston in a house old enough to remember when her town was a tavern community with a farming problem. (No, really. John Adams complained about it. A lot.)

When not writing, J. V. enjoys watching baseball and seeking out all of New England’s creepiest spots. Her Spawn has turned her into a hockey enthusiast. She can be bribed with gin, tequila, and cats.

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All This Could Be Yours by J.V. Speyer Blitz & Giveaway

All This Could Be Yours 

J.V. Speyer 

Publication date: August 11th 2019

Genres: Adult, Contemporary, LGBTQ+, Romance, Suspense

Can a straightlaced FBI agent fake a relationship with a mob rat long enough to close the case?

There’s only one way out of this family, but Tanner thinks he’s found another one. He’s going to fake a relationship with a straightlaced undercover FBI agent and help him take the organization down from within. That is, if the two of them don’t strangle each other first.

Maddox hates the Mob. He doesn’t have a lot of respect for mob rats either. He knows why he was stuck with this case, and he’s not thrilled about it. He wants the win, but having to play nice with gorgeous criminal Tanner might be more than he can take.

When secrets come out, Tanner and Maddox will have to trust each other with everything they have. They may be opposites, but they’re exactly what each other will need to get through this job with their bodies and souls together.

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—

EXCERPT:

Tanner slipped into the grungy old pub and looked around for familiar faces. Professor Agnusdei sat just where he said he’d be, at their usual table near the back. Sanjana sat there too, and a warm flush of gratitude washed over Tanner. He didn’t think he could do this without her. She’d been his best friend since undergrad. If anyone was going to support him, it would be Sanjana.

The pair looked bizarre sitting across from each other like that. Sanjana got a few odd looks for being in the pub in the first place, but she didn’t seem to pay much attention to them. She noticed Tanner before Agnusdei did, because she was observant like that. She raised her pint in Tanner’s direction as he slid into the seat beside Agnusdei. He kept his back to the wall, so no one could sneak up behind him, because old habits died hard.

He didn’t see anyone else he knew here. He didn’t see anyone who even looked familiar. Of course, most of his dad’s cronies would feel pretty uncomfortable down here in the Village. Tanner stayed down here for precisely that reason. He didn’t let himself get complacent, but he welcomed the chance to breathe a little more freely. Every little bit helped.

When the waiter came along, Tanner ordered a Brooklyn IPA and a salad. He didn’t know how much he’d be able to eat, but was used to faking it. He’d spent most of his life making everything look normal from the outside. He might not be able to see any of his father’s buddies, but that didn’t mean none of them were watching. It was always, always better to be safe than sorry.

Sanjana frowned at him and the small talk he made with both of them. She didn’t understand why he was so twitchy and so distracted. Tanner could live with that. She didn’t need to understand. She’d stand by him no matter what happened. Dr. Agnusdei, on the other hand, understood everything. He’d successfully prosecuted plenty of guys just like Tanner’s father. Most of his witnesses even survived to tell the tale.

It was that most that Tanner found hardest to swallow. His life might not be much of a life, but Tanner wasn’t quite ready to give it up just yet.

When Tanner’s food had been delivered and a second round of drinks ordered for everyone, Tanner dropped the act. He dropped some of it, at least. He’d never be able to drop it completely, not even with his closest friends. “So.” He took a deep breath and toyed with his fork. “Were you able to get in touch with your friends?” He didn’t dare say the words FBI. There was no way for Tanner’s father to know where he was, but if anyone could find a way, it was Jimmy.

Agnusdei nodded. “I’ve got to say, Tanner, they were suspicious at first.” The old man had a Bronx accent as thick as cream cheese on a bagel. He’d grown up within sight of the stadium, and put himself through school. He made a name for himself prosecuting the Mob, and he had the scars to prove it. He wasn’t afraid of anything.

Of course, he wasn’t the one going against his own family. He didn’t have to be afraid of anything.

“I’d be suspicious too.” Tanner kept his head up. He refused to show his disappointment. Why wouldn’t the Feds be suspicious? The Garofalo family just didn’t rat like that, not that they knew of. “What did they recommend?”

Agnusdei let out a soft laugh. “Well, at first, they said you should straighten up, fly right, and let the system work itself out.”

Tanner couldn’t help himself. He grabbed his drink and finished it in one gulp. He couldn’t allow himself any other expression, but Agnusdei had just given him the worst news he could have offered. “They seriously don’t want to hear what Jimmy Garofalo’s son has to offer?” he croaked, leaning forward.

“Well, the last time they got approached by one of Old Man Jimmy’s sons, he pulled a no-show.” Agnusdei spread his hands in front of him, as if to say what can you do?

Tanner saw red for a moment. Here he was, trying to do the right thing and help his country, and they didn’t care. “Did you point out that Abe was killed for his trouble?” He managed to get that little nugget out without passing out. He supposed he should be proud.

Sanjana gasped. Tanner hadn’t given her many details. She knew his family was criminal. She knew he was looking to get out and turn them in. She didn’t know how bad it really was. Tanner hoped she never would. What he’d been made to do to Abe would scar her for life, even though she didn’t have to see the results.

Agnusdei grimaced for a second. Then he scratched his white beard. “That did come up, yes. It was a point on which they’d been previously uninformed. When I showed them the pictures you sent, they became a lot more eager to speak with you.”

Tanner relaxed, just a little. At least he’d get to speak, to give evidence. There was still a good chance he’d go to jail, and go for a long time, but that was a risk he’d have to take. After what had been done to Abe, he was a lot more willing to accept that risk than he had been. Life in prison was a hell of a lot better than what Abe got.

His leg bounced up and down under the table. It was a nervous tic, he could no more control it than he could hold back the roll call at the Stadium. “Great. Thank you.”

Agnusdei cleared his throat. “Don’t thank me yet. There’s a strong possibility you’ll wind up doing some time yourself. It seems your hands aren’t necessarily clean, at least not as Tanner Garofalo. You’d think that would have come up before you got a federal clerkship, but some things will always slip through the cracks here and there. Taking your mother’s last name probably helped with that.”

Sanjana picked her head up. Her dark eyes blazed. “No. No, absolutely not. That’s unacceptable. He was forced to do those things. The consequences of not doing them were death.” She turned to face him, long black braid whipping around and striking a waiter as he passed. “Tell him.”

Tanner smiled at Sanjana, but it wasn’t a happy smile. When he thought about the things he’d done, he wanted to throw up. He didn’t know how she knew about the things he’d done, but she wasn’t wrong. The only problem was, it didn’t matter. “It’s true, Sanjana. I was under duress, but here’s the thing. I’d have to prove I was under duress, and it’s my word against theirs.”

Agnusdei’s smile was almost as sad as Tanner’s had been. “And therein lies the rub. You’d likely get consideration, and a lot of it, for coming forward and cooperating. But let’s be real. A judge would want you to pay some kind of penalty for doing those things in the first place.”

Tanner slumped in his seat. A judge would want to punish him, even if he could prove duress. Tanner wanted to punish himself, and he knew what kind of duress he’d been under. Duress would be difficult to prove to an outsider. He could show the pictures of Abe’s execution, but what proof did he have that his father and brother had been the ones calling the shots? Only his word.

He licked his lips and reached for that second beer. He didn’t often indulge in more than one drink, but today was different. Today, he was setting things in motion that would change everything forever, one way or another. “I guess I have to accept that then.”

Sanjana shook her head. “No. That’s absurd. You can’t. You finished law school all of what, a year ago? You put yourself through all of that, just to step back and say ‘Yes, please, give me some prison time?’ That’s absurd.” She waved her hand at Tanner and turned to Agnusdei. “Tell your friends either he gets complete immunity, or he keeps his mouth as sealed as a tomb.”

Agnusdei took a sip of his beer. His lips twitched with amusement. “I see. Are you perhaps working in defense, Ms. Kulkarni?”

“As a matter of fact I am –”

“Tell them to give you a raise. Never mind, I’ll call your firm myself. They want hard evidence, Mr. Gray. They’re interested in what you have to say. They’ve had it in for your father for a while now, but they haven’t been able to make anything stick. Here’s the thing. A guy who’s trying to get out of the mob, without a record, is going to be someone the defense is going to have a field day with. And you’re a smart lawyer. You know what they’d do to you.”

Tanner swallowed hard. He’d known this going in. “They want something they can go in with that will back up my claims. Something that they can point to that corroborates my story.”

“Exactly.” Agnusdei studied Tanner’s face. Tanner wasn’t a fan of being under this kind of scrutiny. It was too much like being in church, in the confessional. Everything he’d ever done, from lying about an extra piece of candy to going down on a classmate behind the bleachers to shooting one of his father’s rivals in the head as his father looked on, played back before his eyes.

“My father keeps a backup disc.” His mouth went dry as he said it. He could see the backup disc in the safe, under his father’s desk. He remembered going in there with Abe and learning how to break into the stupid thing. At the time, Jimmy had let them do it. He’d figured it was a good life skill to have. “It’s locked up, but I know where it is. And my brother’s wedding is in two weeks. I’ll have an excuse to be on site. I can sneak in, get it, and get out.”

Agnus Dei nodded. “That’s a good offer. It shows your bona fides. They might ask for something else, but I’ll bring this up to them.” He tapped his fingertips on the table for a few seconds. “I’ve got to say, Tanner. What you’re proposing, what you’re offering, it’s pretty brave.”

“It’s not, not really.” Tanner closed his eyes for a second. He could only close them for a second. He didn’t dare relax in a public place like this. “When Abe – when he died – well.” He scratched at his throat. “Even talking about this feels like I’m being strangled, you know? But, ah. I never wanted to be part of the family business. Never. Abe was a little more live and let live about it, until he got to be older and Dad started bumping off friends of Abe’s he didn’t agree with. Then Abe was more on my side.

“So when Dad killed Abe, I knew I had to find a way out. That’s just all there is to it.” He laughed a little, bitterness creeping into his tone. “He’s got a role in mind for me but so far he’s been willing to let me “sow my wild oats.’ Except now, he’s got a girl he wants me to marry, and he’s talking about how it’s time for me to step up and take on my responsibilities. I’m not killing people for him anymore. I’m just not. And my older brother–he’s even worse. For Dad, it’s just business. For my brother, it’s personal. He gets off on it. But I’m supposed to treat Jimmy Junior like he’s my dad?” Tanner scoffed.

“If I balk too much, I get what Abe got. If I walk away, I get what Abe got. If I stay, I’ll do it to myself, because I can’t make myself be what they are. The only way to get out and survive is to make sure they’re in jail. Maybe once upon a time, organizations like ours did some good in the community, you know, helping families out and keeping people safe and stuff. Now? Now, we’re a cancer. We’ve got to go.”

Sanjana put a hand on Tanner’s. “We’re here for you, Tanner. I’m not going to let them force you to do anything you don’t want to do. It doesn’t matter if that’s killing people or marrying a woman.”

Agnusdei raised an eyebrow. A little smirk played across his face. “They got the memo, right? You’re out to them. I know you were very out on campus. If I know your dad, there’s no way he would have missed that.”

Tanner sighed. “I’ve been out since middle school. I think it was my way of screaming I wasn’t like them, so I shouldn’t have to do what they did.” He straightened up. “They don’t care. Not in a personal way, I mean. It’s all about the family to them, and what I can do for them. I’m free to do whatever I want, so long what I want coincides with what they want.”

Sanjana snorted. “Some things are universal.” She toasted him, and they all had a little laugh about that. “In all seriousness, I don’t want you to do this if you’re going to put yourself in danger. And prison is danger, Tanner. You haven’t been there. I’m there at least once per week for my clients. It’s not something you want.”

“I don’t feel I have a choice. It’s either go out like this, with whatever risks it entails, or go out feet first.” Tanner met her eyes. “Either way, I can’t go on. Not after Abe got killed.” Neither Agnusdei nor Sanjana knew how long Tanner had this plan to turn himself into a rat, but they didn’t need to know. It wasn’t relevant.

Agnusdei cleared his throat. “So we’re agreed? You’re still going to talk to them?”

Tanner swallowed past the lump of fear in his throat. “Absolutely.”

Author Bio:

J. V. Speyer has lived in upstate New York and rural Catalonia before settling in the greater Boston area. She has worked in archaeology, security, accountancy, finance, and non-profit management. She currently lives just south of Boston in a house old enough to remember when her town was a tavern community with a farming problem. (No, really. John Adams complained about it. A lot.)

When not writing, J. V. enjoys watching baseball and seeking out all of New England’s creepiest spots. Her Spawn has turned her into a hockey enthusiast. She can be bribed with gin, tequila, and cats.

Website / Goodreads / Facebook / Twitter / Bookbub

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Midnight by J.V. Speyer Blitz & Giveaway

Midnight 

J.V. Speyer 

Publication date: August 14th 2019

Genres: Adult, Contemporary, LGBTQ+, Romance

Brandon loved Adrian, so when Adrian abruptly moved out of their apartment Brandon was devastated. Six weeks later Brandon is ready to start to ease his way back into life again, but a chance encounter leaves him questioning everything he thought he knew – about Adrian, their relationship, and himself.

His friends are there to see him through it, especially his best friend Greg. Greg wants what’s best for Brandon. He’s always wanted what’s best for Brandon, even when it’s not necessarily what’s best for Greg. As Adrian’s true nature is revealed, Greg starts to wonder if maybe what’s best for both of them wouldn’t be each other.

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EXCERPT:

Brandon sat down on one of the chairs. “Yeah. I mean I know he had to hide. I knew that going in. A lot of guys had to do that. Most of them figure it out. And I’m not mad at him or anything. I just want to move on.” He frowned. ”What are you trying to get at here, Greg? Why does Adrian have anything to do with tonight’s party?”

Greg inclined his head down, toward the spot on the street that he hadn’t been able to tear his eyes from. “Because he’s been here this whole time.”

Brandon choked on his gin and tonic. “What?”

“He’s been sitting outside the condo, watching the building, this whole time. I mean, I get it.”

“I don’t!” Brendon declared, standing up again. He clutched his drink in his hand and couldn’t decide if he wanted to hurl it at the ex standing on the ground or if he wanted to go inside and hide. Throwing the glass would be wrong. It would be irresponsible; it would get people hurt. He didn’t want to hurt Adrian, even if this latest stunt was creepy and stalker-ish. “He’s the one who walked away. Why is he hanging around outside my building like some kind of lonely ghost?”

“He wanted your attention. He didn’t know how to get it, and his ploy backfired spectacularly. I think he regrets what he did.” Greg sighed. “I’ve been watching him all night, trying to figure out what to do. I was thinking about bringing him in.”

Brandon spun, bringing himself face to face with his best friend. “Why would you do that?”

“Because you love him, Bran!”

“So what? I’m moving on, trying to rebuild my life. Something you have not been shy about encouraging, I’ll point out. And you want to just… what, drag him back in here? What could that possibly accomplish?” He pulled at his hair.

“I thought it might give you guys a second chance.” Now it was Greg’s turn to sit down, flopping into one of the other patio chairs like it was the only thing holding him up. “I want to see you happy, Bran. I keep hopping this fence – I know you weren’t with the people who made you happy, but you seemed so perfect for each other. And I desperately want you to be happy.” He sighed heavily, gesturing back in Adrian’s general direction. “But I didn’t do it. The guy’s in his thirties. If he wanted to come up he could ring the doorbell like an adult.”

Brandon shook his head and rubbed Greg’s shoulders. “I knew I could trust you.” Greg leaned into the touch, just a little bit, and Brandon grinned. “I thought we established that Adrian can’t make me happy at this point. We’re not right for each other, even if we thought we were.”

“I know. I just don’t know what to do here.” He leaned back. “I mean, this is kind of creepy. He’s just out there, watching. If I’m not going to invite him inside, I probably ought to call the cops.”

Technically, Greg was right. Brandon probably ought to call the police, because no good ever came from one ex staking out the other’s home like this. “Do you think he’s dangerous?” Brandon hedged. “Seriously, has he said anything that’s struck you as dangerous?”

“Other than creepily hanging around outside your house? Nah. Not that he’d say anything to me, you know?” Greg snorted. “I’m pretty much the last person he’s talking to right now, except maybe you.”

“What do you mean?” Brandon’s arms froze on his friend’s shoulders.

“He’s all pissy because I lit into him about stalking you through the rally.” Greg waved a calloused hand in dismissal. “Like okay, fine, he wants to be with someone new. Okay. And so what if the guy’s an undergrad – it’s a little weird, he’s a little young for a midlife crisis but who am I to judge? But that whole thing – like anyone didn’t know what he was up to.” He shook his head again, and Brandon could feel his shoulders tensing up again underneath his hands. “I wasn’t going to just sit there and not say anything.”

Brandon let his hands fall. “Oh, Greg. I’m so sorry.”

“What the hell for?”

“I never wanted to come between the two of you. You’re friends. You should be doing friend things, not arguing over me.” He turned away, clutching at his drink so he could do something with his hands.

Author Bio:

J. V. Speyer has lived in upstate New York and rural Catalonia before settling in the greater Boston area. She has worked in archaeology, security, accountancy, finance, and non-profit management. She currently lives just south of Boston in a house old enough to remember when her town was a tavern community with a farming problem. (No, really. John Adams complained about it. A lot.)

When not writing, J. V. enjoys watching baseball and seeking out all of New England’s creepiest spots. Her Spawn has turned her into a hockey enthusiast. She can be bribed with gin, tequila, and cats.

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Nine Cocktails by J.V. Speyer Blitz & Giveaway

Nine Cocktails 

J.V. Speyer 

Publication date: July 20th 2019

Genres: Adult, LGBTQ+, Romance, Suspense

Boston detective and Army vet Abby Morgan got into police work because she wanted to help people, but it seems she only gets to show up after they’re past helping. When a man is murdered outside popular cocktail bar The Gin Barrel, she finds a case that isn’t quite so cut and dry as it seems – and a bartender who arouses more than just her protective instincts.

Paige Lim knows, as soon as she finds out about the body outside her bar, who the killer is. She also knows the police won’t do anything about it. They never took it seriously before, why would they start now? The pretty detective seems sincere, but Paige knows there is a whole system set up to make sure she’ll never be safe – and neither will anyone in her orbit.

Abby is determined not to let the system fail Paige again, but getting the proof they need to arrest the killer is going to take ingenuity and risk. Can they catch a murderer before he kills again?

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EXCERPT:

“‘I’ve served my country with my body, now I want to serve my country with my art.’” Abby turned away. “Have you ever heard such pseudo-patriotic nonsense in your life? At these prices the dude isn’t looking to serve his country. He’s looking to serve himself.” She rubbed her temples. “Ugh. I get they have to eat and pay rent and all that. I do. And I’m not a hundred percent sure why that mission statement rubs me so much the wrong way. But it does, so here we are.”

Mark laughed and lifted his head from his computer. “I think it’s probably got something to do with his prior relationship to pretty miss Paige.” He wagged his eyebrows. “I dug into Manda’s stalker. She did not involve the police. She has four brothers, all of whom play hockey. They figured out what was going on and put the guy in the hospital. He had the gall to try to press charges while admitting he was trying to claim his ‘property.’ The DA, needless to say, was not amused.”

Abby tried not to laugh. She was a cop. Vigilantism wasn’t supposed to be funny, not to her. And a case like this only came up because Abby and the system she supported didn’t do their jobs. At the same time, she had to laugh at the stupidity of a stalker who thought he could get away with it when the victim had an active, involved family armed with big clubs. “I can’t imagine she would have been.”

“So it looks like we’re circling back to Paige.” Mark laced his fingers in front of him. “Not that she’s likely to have been able to do it. You’re right. I took a look through the autopsy report while you were digging into her ex. I don’t know a lot of people, of any gender, who would have the upper body strength to strike that kind of blow from that angle without some kind of struggle.”

Abby nodded. “But our boy here, he was in the army. Who knows what kind of training he got, and whether or not he keeps up with it?”

“True. Some of these guys like the physique they came back with and work hard to keep it up.” He rubbed his belly. “Me, I’m not a fan of the six pack abs myself. I wanted to forget the army as soon as I got my discharge paperwork. But hey, more power to them. The thing is, going into the service should have helped him move on from Paige. That’s a huge hole in our theory right there.”

“Not necessarily.” Abby tapped her jaw. “The guy’s obsessed. Stalkers are. It’s a sickness. Going off and getting a bad haircut isn’t going to help.”

“Hey!”

“Oh, don’t you forget, I was there too, buddy.” Abby laughed. “I know just how bad those haircuts are. At any rate, that’s up to the DA. We should dig into Jack a little farther. The murder was related to one of the women at The Gin Barrel, and right now he’s our best bet.”

“Agreed. I’ll look into Private First Class Stalky McStalkerson. Why don’t you go pay Paige a visit and see what else she might have to say?”

Abby’s cheeks burned. She cursed the pale skin that made her embarrassment so visible. “Are you just trying to give me a chance to go see her again?”

“Maybe.” Mark raised his eyebrows. “I’d never suggest you go flirt with a witness or anything. But I do think you’ll have an easier time getting answers out of her than a man will.”

Abby couldn’t be so sure about that one. She’d barely avoided shooting herself in the foot with questions about stalkers. She didn’t point that out, though. She didn’t want to make herself look any more incompetent than she was.

And she couldn’t deny she wanted to see Paige again.

Author Bio:

J. V. Speyer has lived in upstate New York and rural Catalonia before settling in the greater Boston area. She has worked in archaeology, security, accountancy, finance, and non-profit management. She currently lives just south of Boston in a house old enough to remember when her town was a tavern community with a farming problem. (No, really. John Adams complained about it. A lot.)

When not writing, J. V. enjoys watching baseball and seeking out all of New England’s creepiest spots. Her Spawn has turned her into a hockey enthusiast. She can be bribed with gin, tequila, and cats.

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Building Up to Love by J.V. Speyer Blitz & Giveaway

Building Up to Love 

J.V. Speyer 

Publication date: May 17th 2019

Genres: Adult, Contemporary, LGBTQ+, Romance, Suspense

Jared is at the top of his game, professionally. His love life leaves a little to be desired. All he wants is someone who can love him for him, and who doesn’t demand he “pick a side.” The sudden reappearance of his college boyfriend, Logan, doesn’t make anything better.

Logan knows he broke Jared’s heart all those years ago. He plans to keep a respectful distance, especially once he starts defending a mob case. The last thing he wants is to bring more trouble into Jared’s life. As they keep getting thrown together, he finds it harder to stay away.

The Mob isn’t known for being considerate of their targets’ love lives. It’s not going to be easy to build a new relationship with Jared as Logan’s client’s enemies come knocking at his door…

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EXCERPT:

“You’re a genius.” Gage clapped his hands. His posture loosened, shoulders down and relaxed. “So what’s with you hitting the bottle on a weeknight? I thought you left your partying days behind you in grad school.”

Jared rolled his eyes. “I was such a party animal, too. Because construction sites are great places to be hung over.” He’d worked full time throughout his college years, and Gage knew it too. Sure, he had a full scholarship, but it hadn’t covered books or living expenses, and Jared had felt obligated to help support their mom and younger siblings at home.

He scoffed and took another gulp of his drink. “So your favorite client came by the building to pick out his finishes yesterday.”

Gage paled. “Aw, Geez. Wait— you’re working on that project?”

“Yeah. Well, the other interior guy’s in jail, so I picked it up.”

Gage grimaced. “I guess I couldn’t have kept you apart forever. But it shouldn’t have been a problem. You can be around each other long enough to let him pick out finishes.”

Jared squirmed in his seat. He didn’t want to confess his weakness to anyone, but he had to say something to someone. Gage was the best choice. And he should know. “He came back while I was laying out bathroom tiles.”

Gage closed his eyes. “Tell me that’s not a euphemism.”

Jared blushed. “It wasn’t a euphemism at first. But, um. We were arguing, and then—”

“Oh God, I watched this porno in middle school.”

“It’s not a porn— wait, what?”

“Angry office sex. It’s a classic porn trope. Come on, Jared, have you been living under a rock? The couple — who may not be a couple yet, but you know how it is — they argue, and then the next thing you know they’re getting busy right then and there over a desk or something—” Gage’s eyes bulged open and he grabbed for Jared’s drink. “Oh my God. My baby brother. Cannot unsee.”

Jared took his drink back. “Dude. No. It wasn’t quite like that. I mean there’s no furniture in there.”

Gage whimpered and covered his eyes.

“It’s just— I’m not sure where my brain went. I was just not thinking clearly, and that was all she wrote. I shouldn’t have done it. I should’ve punched him in the face and called the cops for trespassing.”

Gage calmed himself down. “But you didn’t,” he said with a sigh. “I think you need to ask yourself why.”

“I don’t know why. Impulsivity. Stupid bi people doing stupid bi people things—”

“Hey.” Gage’s voice cut through the din of the bar like a whip. “None of that. You never believed any of it before, don’t you start now.” He put his hand on Jared’s drink. “Maybe you’ve had enough of that.”

“Maybe if I drink enough of it, I’ll stop hearing him say it.” Jared took his drink back and drained it, but he could still hear Logan.

Author Bio:

J. V. Speyer has lived in upstate New York and rural Catalonia before settling in the greater Boston area. She has worked in archaeology, security, accountancy, finance, and non-profit management. She currently lives just south of Boston in a house old enough to remember when her town was a tavern community with a farming problem. (No, really. John Adams complained about it. A lot.)

When not writing, J. V. enjoys watching baseball and seeking out all of New England’s creepiest spots. Her Spawn has turned her into a hockey enthusiast. She can be bribed with gin, tequila, and cats.

Website / Goodreads / Facebook / Twitter / Newsletter / Bookbub / QueeRomance Ink

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