Saturday, October 31, 2015

SPECIAL HALLOWEEN SPOTLIGHT~ J.R Gray, Santino Hassell, J.C. Lillis, Kris Ripper, & Roan Parrish #Giveaway

HAPPY HALLOWEEN!!!!! It's the time of ghosts, goblins, vampires, and mayhem! It's also time for awesomeness!

Normally my Saturday Spotlights consist of showing you one author that I love, offering up a giveaway, and doing an interview. BUT it's Halloween and you all deserved something a wee bit special-er.

You all know J.R. Gray, Santino Hassell, J.C. Lillis, Kris Ripper, and Roan Parrish have an AMAZING Anthology out called Lead Me Into Darkness. You MAY or MAY NOT know it's free... Well it's free. They are THAT awesome!

Today we will look at the book, creep inside these authors brains with mini guest posts from each of them. The rafflecopter (Which ends at midnight tonight) AND a separate giveaway from J.R. Gray and Kris Ripper.

You're in for some tricks and some treats. So let's get started.

 Authors: J.R Gray, Santino Hassell, J.C. Lillis, Roan Parrish, Kris Ripper
Available: October 29, 2015

Where to get your free copy:




Lead Me Into Darkness: Five Halloween Tales of Paranormal Romance

All-Hallows-Eve brings out the wicked in even the most reserved among us… and the lure of romance is the keenest incentive to follow a beloved into the unknown. Lead Me Into Darkness is a compilation of original tales of queer paranormal romance by five of the hottest authors of contemporary romance.

Take You Farther by Santino Hassell
Brian Watts' boyfriend is a newly turned vampire, and he's shouldering the blame. Watts would do anything--including offering up a vein, stripping for cash, and demanding answers from other creatures of the night--to redeem himself and save the man he loves.

Memory Hill by J.C. Lillis
Billy Hartigan's been dead for ten years, and it's really pissing him off. Stuck in Memory Hill Cemetery due to "unfinished business," he fritters away the long days playing monster movies in his head, reliving the glory days of his indie band, and mourning his missed chance at love with his best friend. Then one Halloween he gets a visit from troubled teen geek Todd Racklin, the last living fan of Billy's old band. Todd needs some beyond-the-grave help from his idol--and his visits might hold the key to Billy's release from Memory Hill.

Grave Circumstances by J.R. Gray
Secret agendas collide with guns, ghosts and confusing erections, on a tour through a haunted graveyard. Jesse's been carrying a secret and needs a night alone with George. But George has his own agenda, leading Jesse into darkness, the fright of his life, and a blinding release he won't soon forget.

Boyfriends in the Boneyard by Kris Ripper

In a perfect world, Truman Jennings would be spending Halloween with both his husband and his boyfriend; alas, in this one he's on a ghost tour with his husband, and his boyfriend is probably watching scary movies and eating pizza rolls.

The cemetery is appropriately creepy, their tour guide weaves a good yarn, and Hugh's in a very odd (but utterly delightful) mood. When Hugh leads him away from the group Truman doesn't know what to think, but considering his husband's filthy, kinky mind, he's more than willing to find out.

As usual, Hugh has both tricks and treats up his sleeve.

Mayfair by Roan Parrish
Jocelyn has been secretly in love with her best friend Bethany for a year. And it's hell. But there are other things—dark, creeping, illusory things—that are tormenting Jocelyn even more. They've been appearing more and more lately and Jocelyn is starting to doubt her sanity. But a Devil's Night ritual in a Detroit cemetery may reveal more than she ever imagined…

Guest Post

Grave Circumstances

J.R. Gray

            This back and forth, our power struggle, the way you test it, the way I have to elicit surrender from you every single day, it’s a constant mental orgasm. It’s a continuous workout for my sadism. There is a reason I am with you, why you are my submissive. You are different. You will always be different to me.”

Memory Hill
J.C. Lillis
Halloween, 2005

I’m hanging upside down on Millicent Hanshaw’s headstone, playing Dr. Terror’s House of Horrors in my mind for the three thousandth time, when the gate creaks open and I’m like What now?
I mean I like visitors and all, but generally if kids swing by for a self-guided ghost tour on Halloween, they’re in and out of here by midnight. Like this year’s crowd: five little neo-preps crept in at 10:30 and mooched around for an hour, the girls in cat ears and those jeans that are in this year, the boys in cheap ironic drugstore masks and high-performance hiking fleece they’ve never worn hiking. They had a couple plastic Coke bottles filled with their dads’ beer or pink wine snitched from their moms’ book clubs. I shook my head as they slid the bottles from their backpacks and huddled behind the Mann mausoleum, passing the booze around all low and quiet like Sister Mary Francis might spring from the shadows. Even in the silent dark, even when the cops are all out on the trick-or-treat streets making safe-as-milk neighborhoods safer, they still hide like outlaws. That’s what it’s like in Pine Grove. Ten years and nothing’s changed, I guess.
So when the iron gate squeaks and my watch says two-fourteen in the morning, I’m surprised and sort of grumpy but mostly curious. What kind of Pine Grover is out of his snuggly down-comforter bed at two-fourteen a.m., let alone at the Memory Hill Cemetery?
A boy with a broken nose, turns out.
Like, I don’t know if it’s broken for real, but it doesn’t look good. It’s all swollen and kind of listing to one side, as if he was sculpted by that girl in the Lionel Richie video and she got a phone call in the middle of it. There’s a gross little mustache of blood under the nosewreck and he’s wheezing pretty heavy, like he ran all the way. He’s a redhead. Not a playground-bully redhead but a twiggy, allergic-to-everything redhead. He unbuttons his black wool coat, sniffling, and I get a load of his costume: a shiny too-tight Jetson-y thing the color of the jumpsuit I wore when we played Nick Beatty’s house party in ’95. Electric blue with glow-in-the-dark tape, applied in clumsy nonsense shapes.
This poor kid.
I glide by his side up and down the rows of headstones, though it looks like he doesn’t want company. His chunky black boots crunch the leaves and he’s cracking his freckled knuckles and whispering something under his breath, like an AP English poem or some shit. I was always a talker when things got weird, so while we walk I point out some of Memory Hill’s most notable citizens. Karen Wafford, whose lover leaves a red velvet cupcake on her grave the first day of each month. Dominic Duke” Datillo, who made used-car commercials in the ’80s where he called himself the Sultan of Savings. Millicent Hanshaw, who was my buddy and partner in Unfinished Business until her long-lost daughter came to sob on her grave and Millie turned into a thousand glimmers of light that rose to the top of the chestnut tree and then winked out and left me alone.
He’s a good listener, somehow. Probably that’s just his face, like his natural state is intense concentration. But it’s kind of nice. He studies the headstones I point out—looks at every one of them, in fact—and now and then he stops and blinks and turns his head to the side, almost as if he hears me. It’s a little like being with Luis, who was quiet but contained multitudes,” as Mom used to say. We’d come out here all the time. I’d bring my guitar and he’d bring his drumsticks and we’d make up dumb songs about dead people with strange names. (A mad scientist was Barney Banquem!/He made radioactive cocktails and he drank ‘em!)
 Hey, weirdo, I ask the boy. Do you have a friend like that?
Yes!” he says.
I know he’s not really answering me, but my eyes go big anyway. It’s the first thing he’s said louder than a whisper and I’m shocked for a sec, because his voice is a deep rumble and not the thin tremor I expected. It makes me fucking sad, like his voice exists in some future where he’s happy and strong and desired but his body hasn’t gotten there yet. I’m so caught up in the melancholy of it all that for a minute I don’t notice he’s stopped for the first time since he walked through the gate.
And the grave he’s standing on is mine. 

About the Authors

J.R. Gray

When not staying up all night writing, J.R Gray can be found basking in the warm glow of the Miami sun, or at the gym where it's half assumed Gray is a permanent resident. A dominant, pilot, and sword fighting enthusiast, Gray finds it hard to be in the passenger seat of any car. Gray frequently interrupts real life, including normal sleep patterns, to jot down nonsense. The bane of Gray's existence are commas, and even though it's been fully acknowledged they are necessary, they continue to baffle and bewilder.

If Gray wasn't writing…well, that's not possible. The buildup of untold stories would haunt Gray into an early grave or possibly a mental institution where the tales would end up on the walls in crayon and finger paint.

J.R. Gray is genderqueer and prefers he/him pronouns.


Santino Hassell

Santino Hassell was raised by a conservative family, but he was anything but traditional. He grew up to be a smart-mouthed, school cutting grunge kid, then a transient twenty-something, and eventually transformed into an unlikely romance author.

Santino writes LGBTQ romance that is heavily influenced by the gritty, urban landscape of New York City, his belief that human relationships are complex and flawed, and his own life experiences.

Sign up for Santino’s newsletter!

J.C. Lillis

J.C. loves koi ponds, abandoned amusement parks, and peanut butter & banana sandwiches. She hates paper cuts, cabbage, and writing bios. She lives in Baltimore and is the author of two YA novels.


Roan Parrish

Roan Parrish grew up in Michigan and lives in Philadelphia, but is always a few minutes away from deciding to move. A former academic, she’s used to writing things that no one reads. She still loves to geek out about books, movies, TV, and music—now, though, she’s excited to be writing the kind of romantic, angsty stories that she loves to escape into.

When not writing, she can usually be found cutting her friends’ hair, wandering through whatever city she’s in while listening to torch songs and melodic death metal, or cooking overly elaborate meals. One time she may or may not have baked a six-layer chocolate cake and then thrown it out the window in a fit of pique. She loves bonfires, winter beaches, and minor chord harmonies.

Sign up for Roan's newsletter to get periodic announcements about new releases, giveaways, and, you know, general super secret stuff:

Come hang out with Roan and make social media more bearable!


Kris Ripper

Kris Ripper lives in the great state of California and hails from the San Francisco Bay Area. Kris shares a converted garage with a toddler, can do two pull-ups in a row, and can write backwards. (No, really.) Kris is genderqueer and prefers the z-based pronouns because they’re freaking sweet. Ze has been writing fiction since ze learned how to write, and boring zir stuffed animals with stories long before that.

Find Kris at:



There is a current giveaway running until 12PM EST but it ends tonight  October 31st. Follow this link here > and hurry to enter that one.

GIVEAWAY Number 2~

Kris Ripper is offering one winner an ebook copy of Catalyst and J.R. Gray is offering one winner a Reader's Choice ebook! THIS giveaway will run until  November 6th!
Enter the rafflecopter below for that. Winners will be contacted
via email so make sure to check your spam!

Good Luck to all!
Thank you to ALL these amazing authors for making Halloween even more special than it already is!

a Rafflecopter giveaway