Gates of Heaven by M. Tasia 💕 Series Tour & Gift Card Giveaway 💕 (M/M Contemporary Romance)

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MOUTH TO MOUTH RESUSCITATION

After the death of their mother, Frank "Saint" Jeffrey knew the only way to protect his younger brother was to strike a deal with their autocratic, cruel, abusive father. In exchange for his brother's freedom to live his life as he wished, Saint promised to follow in his father's footsteps and become a preeminent surgeon in his father's medical practice. When events he never could have predicted took away Saint's ability to perform surgery, the bargain became null and void. With no safety net, and a life without purpose, Saint moved across the country, bought a wreck of a building in DTLA, and hoped while resurrecting the property he'd find a reason to live again. Then Max Connor entered his life, and Saint was dragged from the darkness of desolation into the light of love.

Saint wanted to tell Max how sexy he looked when he talked about his work. Hell, how sexy
he looked on the construction site. Shit. The man was sex walking.
“You’re smiling. That must mean I’m doing something right.” Max smiled before taking a
drink from his beer.
Saint felt his throat go dry as he watched Max swallow, making his Adam’s apple bob. A
single drop of sweat chose that moment to slide down his muscled chest and disappear under the
collar of his shirt. Saint felt himself getting hard and hoped like hell Max wouldn’t notice.
No such luck. “If you keep looking at me like that, I won’t be responsible for what I do,”
Max warned as he placed the glass on the table and shifted closer to Saint.
“Being responsible never seemed to get me anywhere,” Saint replied. “I think it’s past time
to be irresponsible for once.” He’d always done his duty, kept his oath to his mother, but now
Saint wanted something for himself, someone of his own, if only for the night.
“Do you want to get out of here?” Max asked.
“Definitely.” Saint didn’t even stop to think about it. He wanted Max.
Max pulled out his cell phone, sent a text to Miguel most likely, then stood, holding out his
hand. Saint had never been free to openly show affection for any man before now and he was
going to hold on to his feelings as tightly as he could.
Max’s grip was firm but gentle, always aware of Saint’s injuries. They walked down the
stairs and into the melee of bodies on their way to the front door of the club. One moment Max
was right in front of him, the next he was swallowed up by the crowd, leaving Saint standing
alone in a sea of nameless faces. The pounding music and the chaos of undulating bodies caught
him off guard. When he’d been holding Max’s hand, none of it had touched him. Now it crashed
into Saint and triggered memories. People running, the fear, the screams, and the blood as bullets
rained down on his team.
It wasn’t long before the first guy sidled up to Saint’s back and began rubbing his jeancovered
crotch suggestively against Saint’s ass, bringing him back to the dance floor. When he
turned to tell the idiot to back off, Saint found that the stranger was no longer interested in him
and was trying to fend off an angry-looking Max.
“Hasn’t anyone ever told you to never touch someone without their permission?” Max’s
voice was calm but his tone was deadly. Saint wasn’t entirely sure he’d ever seen those green
eyes shine like that before. It could have been caused by the flashing lights, but Saint wasn’t
certain that was the case.
“I didn’t know he was yours,” the handsy man attempted to explain.
Saint wasn’t sure how he felt about being considered Max’s property, but he could roll with
it.
“Take your dick far away from us before I remove it from your body.” Then Max released
the man so he could disappear back into the wave of bodies.
Max wrapped his arm protectively around Saint and for the first time in his life, Saint
allowed someone else to be the strong one, to lead, to handle what the world threw at him. His
entire existence had been spent being on alert for dangers and threats to the people he loved.
Protecting others no matter the cost. His hand brushed over the bandages covering the gunshot
wounds to his stomach as a reminder of exactly that.
“Are you okay?” Max asked as he pulled Saint closer. “I know you didn’t want anything like
that happening tonight. I’m sorry.”
“Sorry?” Saint could feel those two wrinkles between his eyes scrunch together as he
concentrated on Max. “You did nothing wrong.”
“I promised to stay by your side and the first time I screw up, some guy is trying to hump
you on the dance floor. You were already unsure of coming out, and it killed me to see that lost
look on your face as I was trying to get back to you,” Max explained as he led Saint toward the
entrance, never once taking his arm from around Saint’s waist. He’d had no idea what look he
wore when his brain zoned out, but “lost” was new and frightening.

Finn knew the life he’d found at The Gates was a dream his past would ruin, so when everyone he cares about is threatened, he returns to the streets to keep them safe, especially the man he loves.

HEART MURMUR

Fleeing from his existence as an outcast child in a fanatic cult, Finn Masterson makes his way to Los Angeles, only to find an unforgiving city with little prospects for a teenager with few life skills. After years of living on the streets in DTLA, doing anything and everything required to survive, Finn finds a home, a job, and kindness with Saint Jeffrey, who is renovating a grand old building mere blocks from Skid Row. Finn knows better than to trust a good thing, so when harassing texts and calls culminate in threats to the people he has come to care about—especially a former Marine, Miguel Fernandez—Finn returns to the streets to keep those he loves safe. But one single-minded, stubborn warrior brings Finn back into the fold, and they defeat his last remaining enemy giving them the freedom to pursue their forever.

The harsh gleam from the sunlight reflecting off the large windows of the high-rise office
building temporarily blinded Finn. He moved to the side, stopped walking, and rubbed his eyes
to clear away the blurriness the bright light had caused.
His backpack went flying when someone shouldered him out of the way. “Idiot, you can’t
stop in the middle of the sidewalk.”
I wasn’t in the middle. Asshole.
He shoved his return comment down before it had the chance of getting past his lips. It was
the first day of his return to college. He didn’t need to draw more attention to himself.
Cal State DTLA was located in an office tower on the corner of West Eighth Street and
South Grand Avenue in an imposing building of stone, steel, and glass. The “campus” was a far
cry from the old buildings being renovated throughout DTLA, which were bringing new life to a
neglected part of downtown.
Quickly, he grabbed his bag up from the ground before anyone decided to take off with it.
The tall guy who had run into him carried on walking with his friends as if plowing into Finn
hadn’t been worth a “Pardon me,” or even “Sorry.”
Clearly, fate hated Finn. The jerk walked into the same building where Finn was heading.
Big building. Lots of offices—he doubted he’d ever see the guy again.
Finn had been thankful when he discovered that most of his classes were available online, but
unfortunately not all of them. Which explained his visit to the campus this morning. By the time
he pushed one of the exterior doors open and stepped into the lobby, there wasn’t a sign of the
other man. Finn tossed the guy in his mental trash bin and walked to the bank of elevators.
People in suits and dresses hurried by as others he presumed were fellow students sat in a
lounge area kitted out with couches and chairs. He took in a deep breath and kept telling himself
that he belonged here the same as everybody else. He wasn’t a street kid anymore. He was the
manager of the Gates of Heaven building, or “The Gates” as it was currently being referred to.
The boss trusted him, and Finn wouldn’t disappoint the only person who cared enough to
help him when he needed it most. He looked up at the lit numbers above each of the four
elevators and realized he was going to be waiting a few minutes. Great. More time to talk myself
out of this. I’m gonna embarrass myself. And fail. Am I even smart enough to be here? Will Saint
find out I’m not what he needs to help run his building?
Mere moments before he made his move to turn and run out of the building, a large arm
wrapped around his waist possessively. The earthy, spicy scent of cologne soothed his frazzled
nerves.
“Hey there. Imagine finding you here,” Miguel teased before pulling Finn even closer.
“What are you doing here?” Finn asked in a bit of shock.
“It’s never a bad idea to have backup,” Miguel told him, as if they were in one of Miguel’s
former Marine units.
Finn knew Miguel was here to support him. He hadn’t been able to disguise his nervousness
thinking about today. In truth, he couldn’t hide anything from Miguel, especially Finn’s longing
for the big guy to see him as more of a partner instead of a kid. The one and only time Finn had
worked up the nerve to hit on Miguel, the older man had hugged him but made sure Finn
understood they could be only friends.
Even though it sounded odd, or a little fucked up, Finn had been happy that the boss’s father
had shown up that night all the mayhem went down. Finn thought he’d have to live with that
embarrassment of being seen as “less than.” Instead, the incident had been swept under the rug in
the wake of more important issues.
“I’m not going to war, Miguel. I’ll be in classes, where I risk, at most, a paper cut.”
“Humor me. This will be the first full day you’re away from the building. I’m having
separation anxiety.” Miguel smiled wide. God, he was a handsome bugger.
“Separation anxiety, huh? Okay, daddy,” Finn teased.
The deep growl Miguel covered up by coughing was neither angry nor teasing. It was straight
up hot, and filled with promises Finn knew Miguel never intended to keep. Finn wasn’t sure
what bothered the big guy the most: his age, or that he’d been a street kid, doing whatever was
needed to survive.
The elevator dinged and the doors slid open before anything more could be said. Finn pushed
the button for the sixth floor as they stepped on, followed by a half dozen other people. Miguel
had come to support him. Finn should have been happy instead of feeling confused. Well, you
can’t rush a man, Finn’s mother used to say. With that chestnut packed into his brain, he’d
decided his emotions were simply another part of himself he’d pack away. It was far too risky to
have them flying around willy-nilly.
“Thank you for coming, Miguel. I appreciate it.” Finn did, considering he had been seconds
away from bolting from the building. “You seem to always know when I need you.”
“That’s what friends are for, Finn. You have a lot of people who care about you. This whole
situation is probably intimidating as all hell,” Miguel stated as an older woman standing in front
of the elevator doors tsked at him. “Sorry, ma’am.” At Miguel’s apology for cussing—really,
“hell” wasn’t cussing, and who cared about that shit anymore—the woman smiled before getting
off on the third floor.
The elevator continued up and Finn almost melted into the strong arm holding him. He could
feel his resolve returning. Yes, I’m smart enough. No, I’m not going to fail. And Saint won’t kick
me out.
He took a deep breath and felt the remainder of his stress slip away.
“Better now?” Miguel asked in little more than a whisper. Leave it to the big guy not to draw
attention to Finn’s freak-out.
“Yes, much better.” Every time you hold me.
The bell dinged for the sixth floor. “Good, now go out there and kick ass,” Miguel said as he
ushered Finn out of the elevator doors without stepping off himself. “I’m proud of you, Finn.”
Before Finn could respond, the doors slid closed and Finn found himself staring at his own
reflection in the shiny metal doors. He stood straighter and threw his bag over his shoulder. I can
do this.
He walked down the hall to the classroom indicated on his schedule. With his confidence
returned, Finn walked in ready to take on the world. Unfortunately, the first person Finn saw
sitting at the back of the room was none other than the asshole from earlier.
When the guy sent a slimy smirk in his direction, Finn was back at square one. It wasn’t as if
he wasn’t familiar with bullies, but he’d hoped that was buried in the past. Finn squared his
shoulders and took a seat near the front.
The ace up Finn’s sleeve was the fact that this guy had no idea the hell Finn had been
through. There was nothing some twenty-two-year-old designer-wearing wannabe could do to
him would that would ever compare to what Finn had lived through, survived, and had now
triumphed over.
He was Finley Eric Masterson, and he had every right to be here

GOING IT ALONE

Too many ghosts live inside James Masterson's head, and they weren't the company he sought. Actually, he prefers no one's company, but he finds himself surrounded by overly friendly, meddlesome types while visiting his brother at The Gates in DTLA. Somehow, James becomes the unwelcome subject of Detective Richard Ross's attention, and, before he knows how it happened, James is caught up in Ross's family drama. When a madman tries to kill Ross's sister and her daughter, James's special ops Army training kicks in, and he becomes their hero, something he knows down to his core, he is not. The thing about crazy killers is they never give up, and when the final showdown comes to a head, James knows he'll do anything to keep the family he has found, especially the love of a sexy detective.

The amber liquid burned his throat as he swallowed, exactly the way he liked it. James scanned
the crowd, as he’d done dozens of times since he’d arrived. The bar was busy with groups
celebrating whatever the latest occasion was, or singles looking to hook up, trolling the crowds
hoping to find a happy diversion.
James didn’t fit into either category. He wanted to be left alone to drink in peace and watch
storylines play out, in front of him from his corner booth. The intentional deep-set scowl
should’ve been enough to keep people away, but there were those men and women who took it
as a challenge. Get the big grumpy guy to smile, one point. Laugh, two points. And so on.
James sat in his booth, ignoring the latest make-him-happy applicant until they finally gave
up and left. Why was it so hard for people to understand he didn’t want to be social, didn’t want
sex, and he sure the hell wasn’t looking for a boyfriend.
Peace. That was what he wanted most of all. Which sort of begged the question, what the hell
was he doing in the middle of a noisy bar?
He picked up his glass, drained the remainder of his whiskey, and motioned at the server for
another. It had been a month since he’d found his brother, Finn, at the receiving end of a gun
their papa was pointing at him and his lover. James had given their crazy bastard father a chance
to stand down, but the asshole was beyond reasoning. He was forced to kill his father in the
middle of the woods, on a dark and moonless night.
As if that wasn’t enough to get him into the Guilt Olympics, his continued nightmares of
what he’d seen through four tours of deployment played like a movie through his mind the
moment his lids dropped. It wasn’t enough that he’d been left with a few bullet holes for his
service, but now it appeared that PTSD had moved in. James wasn’t a roommate kind of guy.
“Here you go.” Peggy dropped off his double shot of whiskey. “How you feeling tonight?”
Peggy, one of the owners of Crandall’s Pub, had taken one look at James and decided he was
her latest project. The only reason he hadn’t left and found a new watering hole was that the
older woman had a huge heart and she got that twinkle in her eye every time she was cooking
something up that had nothing to do with a kitchen. Tonight was no different. She patiently
waited for him to reply.
“I’m okay.”
“Have you been getting enough sleep?”
“Not in years. The enemy always waits for a moment of weakness.”
“But you’re not in the Army anymore. You need to find a way to deal with it and move on.
Have you thought about seeing a therapist?”
Of course it had crossed his mind, but something was holding him back. “I have, and I’m still
thinking on it.”
Peggy reached out to cover James’s much larger hand. “Okay, honey. But if you need
anything, me and Henry are always here to help.”
“Thank you.” He hoped that’d end the conversation.
He didn’t need to bring any more innocent people into his messed-up world.
She sighed as if she could tell what he was thinking, but accepted his reply with a nod before
turning away to take someone else’s order.
James wrapped his hand around the glass to steady himself. He was already on his fourth
drink and had no plans on stopping anytime soon. The building where he was staying was only
three blocks away. He could stumble that far.
The bell over the front door of the pub rang, causing James look up. He groaned loud and
long, not caring if the new arrival heard him or not. Once that crystal blue gaze landed on him,
James knew he was screwed.
Why wouldn’t this guy take the hint and leave him alone? Was he a glutton for punishment
or plain stupid-stubborn? James didn’t know, but the bastard was headed in this direction with
the same damn smile plastered on his puss he always wore. Shit.
His long legs ate up the distance, and without so much as a May I?, he slid into the booth
beside James.
“Hey, good looking, you come here often?”
James almost smiled. Almost. Peggy dropped off a black coffee and continued on her way
with a knowing look.
“You can stuff that line up your ass, Ross. I’m not in the mood for your shit.”
“Is that any way to talk to your ride home?”
“I’ll walk the three damn blocks, if you don’t mind.”
“I do mind. It’s close to two in the morning and Finn has been trying to reach you for hours.
Any particular reason you’re not answering your phone?”
“Ah, yeah. I want to be left alone.”
“Keep this up and you’re going to get your wish.”
“Go to hell, Ross.”
“Already have an express pass. Now finish up your drink so I can get your drunk ass home
before your brother calls in the National Guard.”
“How does he even know I’m not at the building? It’s not like he lives there anymore.”
“He and Miguel came over to watch the game with Saint, Max, and you, if your ass had been
at home.”
“That’s not my home.”
“Touchy, and don’t care. Let’s go.” Ross swallowed the last of his coffee and stood, waiting
for James to join him.
“Whatcha gonna do, arrest me?” James laughed without humor.
Ross reached behind his back and pulled out his handcuffs. “If I have to.”
Shit.
James didn’t know if he was pissed off or turned on.

COURTING DISASTER

Nothing in Joey Tall’s life is for real. Not his name, the background he supplied to his bosses at The Gates, or the energy and good health he exudes. None of it is true. And no one can ever know what’s really going on. Ever. Unpacking his secrets would truly end his life. Insult to injury, the incredibly handsome LAPD officer who’s been hitting on Joey is a dream come true. But no way in hell is he letting a cop into his life. He doesn’t have a death wish, and tempting fate is the last thing Joey’s going to do, no matter how much he yearns for a man he can’t have.

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M. Tasia, is an author who lives in Ontario, Canada. She's a member of the Romance Writers of America and its chapter, the Toronto Romance Writers. Michelle is a dedicated people watcher, lover of romance novels, 80's rock, and happy endings, who grew up with a love of reading. Mother of three wonderful children, wife to one understanding husband and servant to two spoiled furry children who don't seem to realize that they're actually cats.
Michelle writes both contemporary and paranormal romance and believes love should be celebrated. After all, we deserve to have romance, excitement, intrigue and passion in our lives.