LAZ & LACHI Publications



Fabulous Event!! Cassie Hunt...You Rock!!!!

Posted by V L Moon on July 19, 2015 at 2:15 PM Comments comments (0)

Reflecting back on what had to be one hell of an amazing event, i can honestly say that i for one, can't wait for the next one to take place. Cassie went above and beyond to make sure everyone had themselves the best time ever. Armed with a team of the most amazing volunteers who catered to the needs of each attending author, i can honestly say that no one could have made this event any better than it was. The cover models were amazingly friendly and were more than happy to talk and have their pictures taken and the after party was an absolute blast!!! The vast array of fancy dress costumes was amazing. Alina looked as awesome as ever with a make up job to die for and my crazy ass best friend  would have made Anita Blake proud as fuck with her Zigmond the penguin t-shirt...I love you both and i'm so freakin thankful that you were both there to hold my hand!!  Amy Beth fucking rocked as the mad hatter...Very befitting seems as she's totally crazy...LOL. The night passed with everyone dancing into the small hours and having a boat load of fun.  

Thank you Cassie for the most amazing weekend. You really did us us all proud 8)

Strength To Let Go! --- Finally!!

Posted by jtcheyanne on June 27, 2015 at 11:10 AM Comments comments (0)



Title: Strength to Let Go

Series: Tales of the Werewolf Tribes, Book One

Author: Alina Popescu

Genre: gay romance, paranormal, werewolves, paranormal romance, supernatural

Publisher: Wayward Ink Publishing

Release Date: July 7th, 2015






After being abandoned by his mates, Shiki Kirishima, beta of the Dragons of the Fang werewolf tribe, returns to his home in Tokyo.



Crippled by grief, Shiki decides to end it all by going into the territory of the Siberian Killers tribe and challenging them to a battle to the death.



His death.






Ganzorig, beta of the Siberian Killers, however, sees the potentially disastrous consequences of having Shiki die in battle.



Instead, he saves him.



Having suffered loss himself, Ganz takes it upon himself to help Shiki deal with his pain.



Blake, Shiki’s best friend since childhood, is as determined to show him there is life after a wolf’s ultimate loss.



Could there also be something ‘more’ for them after friendship?



Book Trailer






Pre-order Links



Don’t miss the Tickle Me Pink sale on the Wayward Ink Publishing site – 25% off all list prices.












When I got to my apartment, I wasn’t feeling any better. I was restless and hurting and angry as fuck and their mixed scents in my place weren’t

doing me any favors. I fumbled with the backpack I had dropped on the floor of my living room, trying to find my phone. I was greeted by a dozen

or more messages from Vicks, one of my twin’s mates. Since she had mated my brother she had this weird connection to me too and could feel

whenever I was experiencing strong emotions for an extended period. I assumed everything that had happened since yesterday would qualify

for that. I sent a quick “I’ll be fine” type of reply to stop her from harassing me and went through my contacts.



Even if I hadn’t called that particular number in a couple of months, it was still at the top of my favorites list. He was my best friend since

childhood, so it made sense I’d call him more than anyone else. It just hit me then that I’d been so lost in my own life, I barely had time to catch

up with him or my family unless something critical was going on. I pressed the call button and plastered the phone to my ear, pacing around the

room as it rang a few times.



“Come on, Blake, fucking pick up!” I hung up and tried again. I really needed to talk to my best friend right now. It rang twice and went straight to

voicemail. Hearing Blake’s voice brought tears to my eyes and something snapped inside of me.



“Blake, I wish you’d have picked up the phone.” I laughed softly, shaking my head. “It’s funny, I think this is the first time I call you and you don’t

pick up. Either way… thanks for being my friend, chibi. I… I don’t….” I lowered the hand that was holding my phone and let my head fall back,

taking a few deep breaths. “Blakey, tell everyone I love them and… yeah, those who know me, really know me, will understand. Sayonara, chibi-







I hung up and let the rage take over. I turned around at impossible speed and threw the phone with a loud roar. It hit the wall and shattered into

a million pieces. I was crying. I knew because I could feel the heaves and tears, but the crushing pain was battling with the anger taking over my

mind. I had lost my soul and my reason to live when I’d lost Kieran and Kayden. What was left of me was nothing more than the warrior inside. A

true samurai would not waste away, waiting for death to claim him at the end of a miserable life. He’d die in battle, an honorable death his final




My twin, Shishou, my co-beta, Ren, my sister, even Blake… they’d get it, they’d explain it properly to my children. They probably won’t

understand, just like I hadn’t when my parents had left us. I prayed that unlike their father, they would never get to a point in life where they’d

understand this decision of mine. It meant they’d go through a world of pain and that was the last thing I wanted for Ryuu and Kimmie.



I took off everything but my jeans. No point in having anything else on. Werewolf rules were sometimes mind-boggling. You could shift into your

wolf and back, and you always kept one item of clothing. The picks were random and you might be left in nothing but your underwear. Or keep a

tight top and nothing else to cover your lower body. It was wise to choose your own clothes for the occasion. I then promptly flashed to the

weapons room in the Alpha mansion, right in front of the wall display of my father’s katana. I kneeled before it, my legs spread, and then bowed

deeply. Getting up, I closed the small distance between me and my objective and removed the katana. I glanced at the wakizashi he always

used to wear with his katana. Double sword, traditional samurai sign. I decided I’d use them both, just as he had in his final battle. I unsheathed

the two blades and adjusted my grip. With a final bow, I flashed out.



When I took form at my destination, a small shiver coursed through my body. It was pretty cold out here. Well, northern mountains in Mongolia

weren’t known for their excessive heat in the middle of autumn.



I had chosen Siberian Killer territory, the fastest way to pick a fight with other werewolves. The one rule they had was any shifter that stepped

foot on their territory would be killed. Here I was, standing tall, all focused, muscles bulging under the strain and excitement of an impending

battle, taunting whoever was nearby.



About the author



Writer, traveler, and coffee addict, ALINA POPESCU has been in love with books all her life. She started writing when she was ten and she has

always been drawn to sci-fi, fantasy, and the supernatural realm. Born and raised in Romania, she finds her inspiration in books of all genres, in

movies, and the occasional manga comic book. She is a proud geek who needs her fast Internet and gadgets more than she needs air.






Social Links



Site & Blog:








Release Day Blitz - Fool School by James Comins

Posted by jtcheyanne on May 22, 2015 at 4:25 PM Comments comments (0)


Title: Fool School

Author:  James Comins

Genre: Young Adult, gay romance, historical

Length: novel

Publisher: Wayward Ink Publishing






In the year of our Lord 1040, fourteen-year-old aspiring jester Tom is en route to Bath to begin his studies in the art of being a Fool, following in the footsteps of his father, and his father before him.



Fool School by James Comins



Along the way he meets Malcolm, a fire-haired boy with eyes green as forest glass. A Scotsman who’s escaped from the ravages of the usurper Macbeth, Malcolm elects to join Tom at school. Though the journey to Bath is hazardous, it pales in comparison to what they face at the austere and vicious Fool School, where all is not as it seems. A court jester must aim to be the lowest rung on the ladder of life, and the headmaster will not abide pride.



As they journey through life’s hardships together, Tom and Malcolm find they only have each other to depend upon.



Buy Links



Don’t miss the 30% discount of the Mammoth May Sale on Wayward Ink Publishing’s website!




Amazon US:

Amazon UK:

Amazon AU:

Amazon DE:




Book trailer" target="_blank" rel="nofollow">http://




Prize: $10 WIP Gift Card










I am walking back after two hours of services. My belly is sunken and my ribs create a small tent inside my tunic. I’m a child. I feel childhood on my shoulders, but no naïveté.



The friar is sitting on the floor of the cell he gave me. His tonsure has speckled shoots like spring flowers. Wordlessly, I sit on his lap. He rests a florid hand on my thigh and kisses my face. Dead-drunk. I smell boiled wine on his breath and he begins talking to me.



“Ah, the soul of innocence,” he murmurs. “Red shoes…. You know, I remember my days as an actor, my son. I wore shoes not so different from these. Spreading morality through story to those who strive. It was brutal work—the holes in your soles, the peeling sunburns, the broken cartwheels, the rotten fruit, the sewing of the outfits—”



fool school



I flinch involuntarily, remembering the wharfmaster’s knife. The priest doesn’t notice.



“But for all that we might have intended to spread the Gospel, it was a Luciferean job, acting.”



He reaches down and pulls off one of my red curly shoes and rubs my feet. I try to relax, but I don’t like anything touching my feet.



“You know, Christ washed feet,” he says, and dips fat fingers into the water bowl. “To be of service,” he moans to himself, pinching my toes, hurting me. “Yes, tumbling, telling the Gospels,” he repeats. “Our company chief, Lord Caligula Petrovka Kingarthur Antiochus de Paree—his mother called him Jean Bureau of course—he’d whore his two wives out to the crew for half a month’s pay at a go. Everyone was broke all the time!”



The friar laughs, and doesn’t notice my second big flinch. My mother is a courtesan.



“Ah, but I saw in myself a higher calling,” he says, rubbing my leg, smacking his lips sleepily. “A life… without sin.” And at last he passes out drunk, clunk.



I extricate myself from the monk and consider taking my things to another cell, but this friar would clearly birth a world of rage if he woke up in my cell and found I’d gone to another. It would be an indignity. These shameless friars get possessive of their boys. His snoring will keep me awake, though, so I stand and tiptoe to the Chapel of St. Mary in the corner of the church and kneel to say my prayers while the monk works the worst of the snore boogers out of his nose.



A slim shadow grows monstrous in the candlelight, appearing along the wall across Mary’s face, swaying as the blood-haired boy kneels beside me.



“It’s Malcolm,” he says in French.



I don;t speak, because the friar has forbidden me to.



He looks down at my shoes. I’ve put both back on. I’ve still got my pride. “You’re a fool,” he says.



I nod.



“You’ve studied, then?” he asks.



I shake my head. He gives me an amused look, as if he can’t believe I’m obeying the friar’s orders.



“I’m told fools are considered the highest among the Third Estate, the strivers.”



I don’t answer. I don’t know if this is true.



“Would you like to know a secret?” he asks me.



I look around and consider. This Malcolm seems very intense, full of braced fire. I find myself afraid of him, afraid of his fire. He’s not a normal child.



In the light of a dozen whale-oil candles—the Martinite friars are humble, but not cheap—I nod yes. I want to know Malcolm’s secret.



But a canon in dark hooded robes sweeps past and Malcolm is gone.



I don’t see the strange blood-boy at all during the night. I try to sleep in the cell with the friar, but his snoring doesn’t stop. I stay awake for maybe an hour, maybe two, before choosing to step out a second time. It takes no time to see everything in the church. I pace, troubled, heightened, awaiting my journey tomorrow morning. I lie across a wooden pew that feels like a coffin.



About the author



JAMES COMINS is incapable of writing about himself in the third person. His future autobiography will probably be titled, “The Man Who Groaned His Way Toward Death.” He writes stories for children and adults.



Born down the street from Stephen King, he now divides his time between Denver and Seattle.



JAMES COMINS can be found at:






Sexy Stocking Stuffers Blog Hop

Posted by jtcheyanne on December 13, 2013 at 8:10 PM Comments comments (7)






bloghopgraphicWelcome to the Sexy Stocking Stuffers Blog Hop! The weather outside is frightful, but we've got some delightfully warm reads for you to snuggle up to for the holidays. The participating authors are turning up the heat with sexy snippets from their books and showering readers with generosity with individual giveaways of ebooks and swag! And of course there is the grand prize giveaway. Not only can you win a $50 Amazon gift card for yourself, you can also win one to gift to a friend, on us! So, be sure to check out each author's blog (using the links below) for different chances to win, as well as entering the grand prize giveaway!






This blog hop and giveaway sponsored by:



Elise Marion



Carly Fall



R.K. Ryals



Alicia Michaels



Kacey Hammell



J.T. Cheyanne & V.L. Moon



Vivi Dumas



Casse NaRome







a Rafflecopter giveaway