Book Blast – The Dead Don’t Lie by Anne Russo #giveaway

BOOK BLAST

Book Title: The Dead Don’t Lie

Author: Anne Russo

Publisher: JMS Books 

Cover Artist: Written Ink Designs 

Release Date: 3/13/21

Genres: Contemporary MM Romance, Suspense, Thriller, Action-Adventure

Tropes: Enemies to Lovers, Forbidden Love, Forced Proximity, Slow Burn, Found Families

Themes: Death & Dying, Betrayal, Love & Sacrifice, Family, Guilt & Loss 

Heat Rating: 4 flames  

Length: 75 000 words/250 pages

This is the first book in a series and features an unresolved ending/cliffhanger.

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Buy Links 

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Barnes & Noble  |  Bookstrand  |  Google Play

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Blurb

While young doctor Adam Morrow resigns himself to an uninformed existence, world-weary assassin Ian Abbott struggles with a life he never asked for. When the two strangers meet by chance, the attraction is immediate. And deadly, as Adam walks in on Ian in the middle of a hit.

The situation spirals out of control once Ian discovers he and Adam share a connection far more profound than either imagined. Shocked by the discovery, Ian makes the hasty decision to kidnap him.

Overnight Adam is torn from his promising career and a family who believes him dead. Things go from bad to worse when he finds himself reunited with a mother he never knew who is now head of a covert and shadowy group of killers for hire. Forced into joining their ranks, with Ian as his reluctant trainer and handler, Adam is given a series of impossible tasks to complete.

To survive, he must fight with everything he has to keep his life, his sanity, and his very soul from being swept up in a violent and chaotic world even as he battles his unwanted and complicated feelings for Ian.

For his part, Ian, a man with dark secrets of his own, has a past he isn’t ready to share with Adam even as the other man worms into his life in more ways than one. The two grow closer and lines blur — between good and evil, friend or foe, enemy or lover. But something, or someone, plots against them, determined to do everything in their power to keep them apart. Even if it means destroying them both.

Trigger Warning: This story contains a brief scene of sexual assault and features an unresolved ending/cliffhanger.

Excerpt 

Assignment completed, Ian glanced down at his coat, noticing a few questionable stains even black couldn’t hide. Sighing, he stepped into the adjacent bathroom for a quick wash. He was cleaning off the excess blood splatter when he heard the door open. He stopped and listened as a curious voice called out, “Hello?”

Ian reached for his handgun, quiet as he slid it into his hand. He edged forward, waiting for his visitor to discover Mr. Mallory was no longer among the living. Ian didn’t have long to wait.

“Jesus Christ,” the visitor swore, taking several steps backward where Ian waited in the shadows. Once he was close enough, Ian pressed the gun’s muzzle into the back of his head, stopping him in his tracks.

“Don’t move,” he ordered. Even in the darkened room, Ian knew he looked familiar. “Turn around.”

Slowly, the man turned toward him, shaking. Ian didn’t miss the shock of recognition when he saw who held him at gunpoint.

“Yeah, I remember you too. This is unfortunate,” Ian remarked and meant it. He didn’t relish putting a bullet right between those pretty eyes, but he’d seen his face. Not once. But twice now. And, unfortunately, he’d have to die for it.

“Wait,” the young doctor urged, his hands in the air. “You don’t have to shoot me.”

No crying. No begging. A statement. The doctor even met Ian’s eye when he said it. Ian couldn’t help but admire this guy’s guts. A shame he had to kill him, but he didn’t have a choice. His finger twitched on the trigger.

“I’m afraid I do,” Ian answered, glancing at his name tag. “Dr. Adam Morrow,” he whispered under his breath, the name hitting like a sucker punch to the gut. “Your name is Adam Morrow?”

“Yeah, that’s my — why?”

Ian wasn’t listening, rendered speechless as he studied the man. Pieces were clicking together in a hail of memories, memories he fought for years to keep hidden. Now they came rising to the surface one by one, swifter than he could recall them. All tied to the image of a child’s face. A child whose cheerful grin and name, Adam Morrow, had haunted him for the last fourteen years.

Ian snapped into the present. He charged forth, seizing him by the arm. Adam tried to shake him off as he propelled him toward the windows. Meager light from outside street lamps was enough to spy the lingering traces of that boy. One whose existence itself had been a terrible mystery he’d never wanted to delve too deep into, terrified of the answer awaiting him on the other side.

“Look at me!” he ordered, pressing the muzzle under Adam’s chin.

Adam hesitated but didn’t have much say so with a gun buried in his throat. One glance and the truth slammed into Ian like a bolt of lightning. A sweeping recognition. His eyes told him the entire story in an instant. They were remarkable, dark green, and flecked with gold, memorable —her eyes. There was no way he’d be able to kill him. Not now. The implications of his discovery growing as they sized up the other, each of them unsure what to do next.

“Who the hell are you?” Adam asked, low and shaky.

“Who the hell are you?” Ian countered.

About the Author

Anne makes her home in Connecticut with her wonderful and ever-so-patient partner. A lifelong reader, writer, and curious student, Anne hopes to create exciting multi-dimensional characters and worlds but with a queer sensibility. The Dead Don’t Lie is the first book in the Dead Generations series and her first novel.

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Book Blast – Strapped For Cash by K.L. Hiers #kindleunlimited #giveaway

BOOK BLAST

Book Title: Strapped For Cash

Author: K.L. Hiers

Publisher: Stormy Night Publications

Cover Artist: Korey Mae Johnson

Genres: Contemporary BDSM MM Mafia Romance

Tropes: Co-workers to Lovers, Sex Before Love, Master and Slave, D/S

Themes: Betrayal and Revenge, Never Know Who Your Real Friends Are

Heat Rating:  5 flames  

Length: 107 000 words/414 pages

It is a standalone book, but the author recommends the others since this is a prequel

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Buy Links – Available in Kindle Unlimited 

Amazon US  |  Amazon UK

Blurb 

After the Luchesi mafia family betrays him, assassin Mickey Tamerlane joins with gangster Boss Cold to seek revenge. But as they maneuver to take out their enemies and claim control over the city’s underworld, Mickey finds himself distracted by the newest member of Cold’s crew.

Cocky and handsome, Roger Lorre pushes Mickey’s buttons until Mickey pushes back hard.

Hard enough to hurt.

But no matter how well-used and sore he leaves Roger, once isn’t going to be enough for either of them.

Not even close.

Publisher’s Note: Strapped for Cash is a prequel to Cold Hard Cash and Hard Earned Cash. It includes spankings and rough, intense sexual scenes. If such material offends you, please don’t buy this book.

Excerpt 

 “Don Luchesi is dead.” 

 “How?” Mickey blurted out. 

 “Murdered in his very own home,” Cold replied. “I have been waiting years for the old man to kill himself with a heart attack, but someone else decided to speed his demise along. Though I am grateful, this means that certain plans are going to be put into action much sooner than I expected.” 

 “The city,” Crybaby said, her eyes wide. “We’re takin’ it. We’re gonna do it.”

 “Yes,” Cold confirmed. “With your help, my dear Gentlemen, the city is finally going to be ours.”

 “Fuck yeah,” Jules cheered. 

 “Who killed the Don?” Duncan asked quietly. 

 “I do not know.” Cold seemed a little annoyed at that fact. “But that will actually end up working to our advantage.” 

 “How?”

 “Because if I don’t know, it means the Luchesis don’t know.” Cold leaned forward, his usually calm face lit up with excitement. “The most likely suspects are his three sons, Cristian, Luigi, and Matteo. The Don had yet to name an heir, and there will most certainly be a struggle for power.” 

 “The ring,” Mickey recalled. “He didn’t pass on that stupid ring.” 

 “Precisely,” Cold said. “Matteo was favored to take his father’s place, but his brothers are hungry for it, too. This also works to our advantage.” 

 “What do we do?” Crybaby asked eagerly. “Kill ‘em?”

 “I appreciate the enthusiasm, but no,” Cold drawled. “They’re about to do their own killing, and we’re going to help them right along.” He looked to Mickey. “Do you remember when you were so kind as to discover Tony Luchesi’s nasty theft?”

 “Yeah,” Mickey replied. “What about it?”

 “Well, it turns out he was stealing that money to help fund Cristian’s future claim to the throne.” Cold pursed his lips. “Such a shame.” 

 “The bar… it was Luigi’s, wasn’t it?”

 “Yes,” Cold confirmed. “Piece by piece, we’re going to turn the three brothers against one another. The family will split apart. Everyone will try to pick a side, and the three darling siblings will each be attempting to make the best case for themselves while valiantly trying to murder the others.” 

 “Chaos,” Alistair said with a knowing nod. “It’s going to be total and complete chaos.” 

 “You knew this was going to happen,” Mickey accused. “You knew the Don hadn’t picked an heir and was going to die without one.” 

 “I knew he was arrogant enough to think he wasn’t going to die anytime soon and foolish enough not to listen to his doctors,” Cold said. “The chances of him dying prematurely without settling his affairs was very likely. I had planned to use his death to propel our takeover of the city. I did not expect, however, for him to be murdered.” 

 “I call that a fuckin’ bonus.” Jules laughed. “Them stupid ass brothers are gonna be at each other’s fuckin’ throats thinkin’ one of them killed Daddy.”

 “So.” Jerry perked up. “What is our first move, Monsieur Cold? What would you have us do?”

 “Everything we need is right here under this roof,” Cold replied, offering a coy smile. 

 “You know we’re in a gay bar, right?” Duncan asked in a loud whisper. 

 “Yes.” Cold looked irritated. “There is a young man who works here at night as a dancer. He goes by the name ‘Galavant.’ He also washes dishes over at Ragazzi’s.”

 “How is a dishwasher gonna help?” 

 “That restaurant is the Luchesi’s big honey pot,” Jules replied, eyeing Duncan until he cowered. “Galavant is our fuckin’ way in. Payroll for all the drugs, brothels, and illegal type businesses gets banked there.” 

 “How much?” Mickey asked.

 “Millions,” Cold replied, looking very pleased with himself. “The Luchesis are arrogant enough to believe no one would dare steal from them. That arrogance is going to be their undoing. First, we take their money. Next, we’re going to take their drugs. The bouncer here, Reggie? His mother is a maid at one of the hotels the Luchesis run as a brothel. They use the basement there to prepare their product before distribution.”

 “So, we’re gonna take their drugs?” Pym perked up. 

 “No.”

 Pym pouted and sank back down in his chair. 

 “We’re going to tip off the police to the location and allow them to have the glory of the biggest drug bust this city has ever seen. It’s a little gift to our friend Officer Carville for his very timely payments. He’ll look so fetching on the front page. Might even be chief one day. We’re also going to make sure the police’s anonymous source is identified as a member of the Luchesi family.” 

 “We take out the money, the drugs, okay, but what about the judges? All the politicians?” Crybaby frowned. “We don’t own any of them. We barely own any cops.” 

 “Never fear,” Cold soothed. “Once the blood starts filling the streets, they’ll come to us. They won’t have a choice. We’re going to be their safe harbor from the storm, you see. They won’t care who’s in charge as long as peace is established. And if not… well.” He smirked slyly. “I have other ways.”

 “Okay.” Mickey grinned. “So, when do we start?”

 “Soon. You, Jules, and our newest member will be going.” Cold waved to Alistair. 

 Alistair left his perch on the desk to open the door, gesturing for someone to come in. 

 Mickey turned to see who it was, and he couldn’t hide his shock. 

 That son of a bitch…

 It was the crazy guy from the gas station. 

 “This is Roger Lorre,” Cold said. “He is a talented little thief and an expert safecracker. He will be accompanying you to Ragazzi’s. Say hello, Mr. Lorre.”

 “Hello, boys,” Roger said, his eyes immediately focusing on Mickey. “Well, hi there. Long time, no see.”

 Mickey gritted his teeth.

 Cold glanced between them. “Am I to assume you’ve already met Mickey Tamerlane then?”

 “Mickey, huh?” Roger grinned crookedly at him, whistling low. “Mm, and aren’t you just so fine.”

About the Author 

K.L. “Kat” Hiers is an embalmer, restorative artist, and queer writer. Licensed in both funeral directing and funeral service, she worked in the death industry for nearly a decade. Her first love was always telling stories, and she has been writing for over twenty years, penning her very first book at just eight years old. Publishers generally do not accept manuscripts in Hello Kitty notebooks, however, but she never gave up.

Following the success of her first novel, Cold Hard Cash, she now enjoys writing professionally, focusing on spinning tales of sultry passion, exotic worlds, and emotional journeys. She loves attending horror movie conventions and indulging in cosplay of her favorite characters. She lives in Zebulon, NC, with her husband and their children, some of whom have paws and a few that only pretend to because they think it’s cute.

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Book Blast – Young King Arthur and the Round Table Knights

BOOK BLAST

Book Title: Young King Arthur and the Round Table Knights

Author: Siryn Sueng

Publisher: Deep Hearts YA

Release Date: September 18, 2020

Genre/s: Fantasy, M/M YA Romance

Trope/s: First Love, Arthurian Legend

Themes: Coming of Age, Knights 

Heat Rating:  2 flames      

Length:  68 322 words/ 270 pages

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Buy Links

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Arthur grew up a peasant, but when he was fourteen, Excalibur chose him, and now as King Arthur, he must learn to play the game of royalty quickly … or suffer the consequences.

Blurb

There was no reason for Arthur to think he would ever become king.

A peasant and son of a baker, Arthur grew up in the castle town of Camelot. When he attended the choosing ceremony, it was merely to see who would draw the Holy Sword, Excalibur – to see who would inherit the throne of the recently departed King Uther. He never expected the sword would choose him…

But it did.

Now, at the young age of fourteen, he has become King Arthur, and for all the power he has gained, he has made just as many enemies. Surrounded by the Knights of the Round Table, and led by the mysterious mage, Merlin, Arthur is grateful for his allies, though he would just as soon return to his old life. Surely, someone more worthy should be chosen as king.

Arthur is in the middle of chaos, a world where everyone wants more than they let on, where many hate the idea of a young boy with no noble background being crowned king; where cold stares and whispered words are just as sharp as an assassin’s blade.

As Arthur fends for his life, he must draw on the strength of his knights, especially fifteen-year-old Mordred, who becomes closer to him than the mere bounds of duty. He must become king, not just in name, but in his heart.

And he must do it quickly, because his enemies want more than just his crown…

Excerpt

Two days had passed since I’d pulled the sword free—since becoming King. On the first full day within the castle, Merlin had found me wandering the halls and dragged me back to my room to be fitted for an outrageous amount of clothing. We discussed Illian.

Merlin assured me that he was being treated well within the dungeons, despite his cold attitude that he gave to everyone. Nothing would be done to him without my consultation. That fact only added more weight.

He also brought up his conversation with my mother and the letter I should expect. The day after, I received it. She’d expressed her worries, but also her love and support. She praised me, and though I knew it was meant as encouragement, it only made me more wary and frightened. My station as King was not something to take so lightly—even if she had all the confidence in the world. I tried to reply, but nothing I wrote seemed fitting. Rather, it all seemed more like complaints and childish pleading. It wasn’t something I wanted to send to her, not after having her praise me.

Within the mirror, the striking blue doublet that covered me looked even more out of place as I thought about my mother’s letter. The kingly raiment I now wore wasn’t the only one. I had a rich dark purple one, a red one, a light blue, and a solid black. And to think, those were just for me to wear when I wasn’t in the throne room! All the different clothes were going to make my head explode.

“Yes, he did a wonderful job,” Elias said. “Perfect fit. Of course, he is the best tailor in the lands. Only the best for our King.” He stepped back from me and bowed.

“I don’t need the best,” I said softly, but Elias caught it.

“I suppose it’s good to know that you haven’t drowned in the riches, but at the same time you do need to look the part at least.”

I turned to look out the window. The sea burst against the cliff side, throwing water in a violent display of white foam. I watched the waves for a moment longer, knowing that I needed to get going. I was stalling because I was nervous about meeting the knights. What were they going to think of me? I was young, and a peasant. No royal blood flowed through my veins.

I chewed on my lower lip. Elias touched my arm. I looked over at him. He didn’t say anything, but he didn’t have to. I nodded and followed him out of the room and into the large corridor.

We left the castle and crossed from the tree-lined grounds into the gardens. The smells of the flowers permeated my senses. I took a deep breath. The scents calmed some of my nerves.

Ahead of us on the other side of the castle grounds stood the Knights’ Tower, where they all resided. The tower was imposing, dark in color, and vines crawled up the sides of the rocks. Windows lined the entire building, spiraling up to the top. Elias led me to the tower’s set of wooden doors and bowed to me.

“This is as far as I can go, Your Majesty.”

My heart clenched and ice shot through my chest. I was going to be alone with the knights. Terror flooded me and I began to tremble. Elias touched my arm again. I focused on him. He smiled and the gentle look helped me relax.

“You will be just fine, my lord. They might be rough around the edges, but they’re loyal and actually very nice.”

“Okay. I’ll be just fine. Thank you, Elias. I’ll see you later.”

He bowed and left me standing in front of the doors. I contemplated leaving and hiding in the library. I turned and took a step forward—right into a warm body. With a startled gasp, I stumbled back and bowed forward as I squeaked, “Forgive me! I didn’t see you there! I’m sorry I ran into you!”

The one who I had run into snickered and I recognized that tone well. I looked up to see Merlin smirking at me. My heart fell like it had become a lump of lead. I stared at him as he laughed at me. I could feel a hot blush creeping across my face.

“My, my. You’re a King now, my lord. You don’t bow to anyone. So, what is it that has you cowering before the Knights’ Tower? Are you intimidated by them?” Merlin seemed a little more welcoming, but I still didn’t like the look on his face. It seemed like he was scrutinizing me beneath his outward demeanor.

I turned back to the double doors and swallowed dryly. “They won’t approve of me.”

“Not everyone will. But that’s what it means to be king. No one is loved on their first day on the throne. Everyone questions the new crown; that is simply how it is. It takes time to earn trust and loyalty. You will earn it. But…if you do nothing, then you will have nothing.”

His words shook me. The mage was right. I understood then why he was the advisor to the King of Camelot. He knew what he was talking about. Despite being condescending at times, he was truly helpful.

“I can’t avoid everything, and why should I? Thank you, Merlin.”

He bowed to me. “Of course, Your Majesty. It’s what I’m here for. So, shall we?”

“Yes.”

I turned around and pulled the door open.

About the Author 

Siryn Sueng is a writer of fantasy, paranormal, and even Sci-Fi genres. She’s married to a wonderful husband with a minion of two years. They have a full house with three adorable fur babies, Anubis -the mighty cat hunter- Kida -the momma bear- and Mishka -the loveable husky-.

Siryn is a lover of games on a wide range of platforms. She plays on the PC, console, and hand-held devices including the phone. Japan is where she would love to visit sometime and is a huge inspiration to many of her projects. She’s a huge fan of Japan, including manga and anime. Siryn has even begun to dabble in comic/manga script writing. Future works in this will be posted on WebToon.

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Book Blast – Tik Tok No by Lucy Ravens #KindleUnlimited

BOOK BLAST

Book Title: Tik Tok No

Author: Lucy Ravens

Cover Artist: Chandra Trulove Fry

Release Date: February 23, 2021

Genre/s:  Contemporary M/M Romance

Trope/s: Friends to lovers

Heat Rating:  4 flames     

Length: 40 000 words/98 pages

It is a standalone story

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Buy Links – Available in Kindle Unlimited

Amazon US   |   Amazon UK 

Can I turn my best friend into more in front of thousands of followers?

Blurb

Will

Lucas Bentley has been in my life almost as long as I can remember. 

The boy next door. My sister’s short fling. My best friend.

And while we have been inseparable like brothers for years now, I have been loving him at a distance in my heart this whole time. And it doesn’t hurt that he’s a tatted, skateboarding bad boy from my dreams.

Now that we’re adults, I want to be out of the friend zone, but after putting myself there for damn near 20 years, I’m not sure he will ever see me another way.

So, like the lovesick fool I am, I’m going to show him how I feel with an audience of thousands and hope I don’t crash and burn back into the friend zone.

If you love it when best friends become more, big romantic gestures, a new kind of bromance, and lots of sarcasm, scroll up to start the first book in the Friend Zone series! 

Excerpt 

The heartfelt words slip out of my mouth on their own. I only meant to think them. Saying them out loud isn’t at all what I want. It is foolish at best. I can only hope that I didn’t speak loud enough for Will to understand my words. 

Of course, I’m not that lucky. I know that because he is frozen in place with a deer in headlights look in his eyes. As the moments pass his expression changes a thousand times. He goes from shock to fear to confusion to sadness to desire, and then starts the cycle all over again. It’s difficult for me to watch. It’s my fault he’s so freaked out.

“What did you say?” he eventually chokes out through lips that don’t appear to move. 

“I think you heard me,” I boldly reply. I stand up tall to face him down with the truth for once.

“What does it mean?” he asks, intently gazing into my eyes as if searching my brain for answers.

“You know that, too,” I say with a crooked smile, not even trying to hide from his searching gaze.

The tension in the room gets thicker by the moment. We don’t speak. There’s just a staring contest and a battle against giving in to desire. The room is growing hot. One of us is bound to break. It’s inevitable.  

Will takes the first halting step in my direction, and the battle is lost. We collide like freight trains on the same track. Our chests bang together taking our breath away. Neither of us seems to care about whether we can breathe or not. There’s no reason to. We’ve got each other.

Our lips meet in a heated exchange. This is no ordinary kiss, nor is it soft and gentle. Instead it’s demanding, overwhelming, intense, and almost as physically draining as an MMA fight. Our mouths open wide to let the other gain entrance. Tongues battle for supremacy; twisting and turning inside the wetness of our cheeks. Will bites my bottom lip, and I taste the drop of blood that rises from the tiny wound. I gasp with intense joy as he sucks at the droplet, and he growls.

Will is leaning into me. His weight grows heavy against me. I can’t stand in place or hold myself steady. Suddenly, he’s pushing me backwards, and I slam into the wall. I hit it hard, but I like the power he’s using against me. It’s a turn-on. I’m filled with excitement and need. This is a whole new Will. I’ve never seen him like this. I revel in his strength and power.

He holds my arms in a tight grip. They are plastered to the wall. I can’t move, and I really don’t want to. I will let him do whatever he wishes to me. I need him to control me. At the moment, he’s ravaging my lips. I don’t fight back. I take everything he’s giving and savor it. I pray he never comes to his senses. I want more which scares me in a delightful way. 

About the Author

A Mommy, vampire fanatic, Harry Potter nerd, and hopeless romantic are just a few of the things to describe the enigmatic personality of one, Lucy Ravens. A long time author with two bestselling pen names, she has now expanded into the MM universe after she read some of her first MM rom coms and fell in love with how they can be romantic, sweet, and sexy all at once in a way contemporary romance for MF couples has somehow lost. She hopes to bring all her quirks over to this pen name to entertain readers and make them swoon!

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Book Blast – Love Him/Hate Him by Chris Bedell @ChrisBedell #KindleUnlimited #giveaway

BOOK BLAST

Book Title: Love Him/Hate Him

Author: Chris Bedell

Publisher: Between the Lines Publishing 

Release Date: February 16, 2021

Genre: YA LGBTQ Thriller

Heat Rating:  3 flames      

Length: 185 print pages

It is a standalone story.

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Amazon US   |   Amazon UK 

Connor is out. Liam is the secretly gay football player. Together they must navigate a hush-hush relationship while working together to solve the murder of Liam’s sister.

Blurb

17-year-old Connor doesn’t believe his best friend’s death was an accident. Falling down the stairs was random, and Connor can’t help but wonder if someone might’ve pushed her… 

Determined to find out the truth, Connor starts his own investigation. Along the way, he discovers Evelyn’s affair with a married man and thought she was pregnant before she died. Connor thinks he’s found her killer, but an airtight alibi forces him to look in a new direction. Perhaps closer to home. 

Complicating the situation more is Connor’s own secret – an unexpected hook up with Evelyn’s twin brother, Liam, at a party the previous spring. Afterward, Liam goes on a homophobic rant and punches Connor, leaving him confused. His confusion deepens when, after Evelyn’s death, Liam apologizes and they start to hook up secretly. 

Liam is trapped between his attraction to Connor and his abusive father. Connor struggles with his growing attraction for Liam. Their secret rendezvous are fun, but if Connor is going to have more with Liam, he’ll have to be honest about his feelings and his suspicions on who killed Evelyn. Will either survive the truth coming out? 

Excerpt 

I left the hair salon the following evening. 

A faint chill permeated the air, and the waxiness of the full moon glinted against the ground, providing extra lighting while I walked to my Mercedes.

Normally, I wouldn’t have picked a 7:00 P.M. appointment, but it was all the hair salon had had on such short notice.

“The fuck you doing at a hair salon?” someone called.

I whipped my body around. Liam stood about ten feet from me. 

“I’ve gotta go.” I pulled out my car keys, then grabbed the car door handle. 

“Please don’t leave,” he pleaded.

I looked over my shoulder, meeting his eyes. “Why would I do you any favors?”

“Because I wanted to apologize.” 

Wow. Lucky me, getting two surprises in less than a week. First Evelyn’s death, now this. The only difference was that there was a chance this surprise would be wanted.

About the Author 

Chris Bedell’s previous publishing credits include Thought Catalog, Entropy Magazine, Chicago Literati, and Foliate Oak Literary Magazine, among others. His debut YA Fantasy novel IN THE NAME OF MAGIC was published by NineStar Press in 2018. His 2019 books include his NA Thriller BURNING BRIDGES (BLKDOG Publishing) and his YA Paranormal Romance novel DEATHLY DESIRES (Deep Hearts YA). In addition to his YA Thriller BETWEEN LOVE AND MURDER, Chris had several other books released in 2020, including his YA Contemporary I’LL SEE YOU AGAIN (Deep Hearts YA). Furthermore, Chris graduated with a BA in Creative Writing from Fairleigh Dickinson University in 2016.

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Book Blast – Years of Silence by J.K. Jones

BOOK BLAST

Book Title: Years of Silence

Author: J.K. Jones 

Publisher: Self-published 

Release Date: December 30, 2020

Genre/s:  Dark M/M Romance, Magical realism

Tropes: Friends to lovers

Themes: Russian Mafia, floral horror, body horror romance, interracial romance, cultural diaspora 

Heat Rating:  4 flames 

Length:  91 872 words

It is a standalone book. 

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Three friends. Two lies. One truth.

Blurb 

Three friends. Two lies. One truth.

Silence can be deafening. Billionaire Tycoon Zander Wright is no stranger to loneliness.

However, what happens when his friend-turned-enemy comes back?  

Knowing Vadim is like dancing the space between heaven and hell. The ocean is an inch between ecstasy and misery. Like all things long since forgotten, young love always remains the most crippling of pain.

Zander Wright is aware of this. He’s felt the fatal blow of being love-struck—bludgeoned violently over the head with the taste and feel of utopia in his arms and in his bed.

Vadim Oblonsky will always be the one thing he wants, but can never have.

Just like Petyr Yahontov will always be the one thing standing in his way. A dangerous man, with a sweet dimpled grin that has connections to the Russian mafia. Petyr wasn’t supposed to take it this far. Now, someone in his inner circle wants him dead. Zander didn’t start this. He didn’t want any part of it.

But he will be damned if he doesn’t finish it.

Warning from the author – Years of Silence is a dark MM Romance. This book will take you on a journey of self-discovery and disillusionment, a psychological thriller with so many twists and turns it will make your head spin. Enemies to lovers, floral horror, friends to lovers, hurt comfort, first time mm romance, gay betrayal romance, mental instability and so much more. Read an outstanding piece of literature of three friends and how one truth destroys all of them.

Excerpt 

From Chapter 1

Zander recalls these images not to relive them.

But to dance the space between heaven and hell. The ocean is an inch between ecstasy and misery. Like all things long since forgotten, young love always remains the most crippling of pain.

Zander Wright is aware of this.

He’s felt the fatal blow of being love-struck—bludgeoned violently over the head with the taste and feel of utopia in his arms and his bed.

The grotesque and sublime slam into him all at once, he tries to push through, he tries forcing it down, but still, it bubbles up. For once he doesn’t release it, he holds onto it, until it solidifies in his soul.

He knows he’ll never let go. Not now and not ever. Not even if it kills him.

And it surely will kill him, one of these days.

Zander raps his fingers on the table, impatiently going over the extensive legal jargon. The leather feels plush and comfortable as he leans back into his chair. The office is spacious and almost too large for one person alone, but Carlisle has insisted.

There’s a large bookshelf in the far corner, hefty enough to fill a library with nearly dozens upon, dozens of cases. Zander read them all.

Not by choice of course, but by necessity. He lives and breathes his work.

Case files lay stacked on his desk, untouched because of the sheer amount of work he still needs to get through.

“Is this all of it?”

The intern nearly jumps, his small lithe frame looking even smaller in his black slacks and white crisp dress shirt. He’s native American, with beautiful tan skin and dark piercing eyes, rimmed with glasses “Yes Mr. Wright.”

Zander looks back at the file, his eyes greedily taking in every single word. The whole case was fucked up. Even as he read more about the people involved, he felt his stomach coil in disgust. Sometimes he wonders why he became a defense attorney in the first place.

You know why.

“Sick fuck,” He mutters under his breath, before tossing the file on the table.

The case is straightforward: billionaire tycoon caught raping an underage girl and somehow thought throwing money at the problem would make it all go away. However, more women started coming out, accusing the defendant of being a rapist.

“A friend of my father’s you said?”

“Yes, Mr. Wright.”

Even after all the evidence proved that the man was guilty, he still had the fucking gull to plead “not guilty”. It was hard to argue against his DNA found in a rape test. Zander knew he had to take this case on, it was expected of him.

His face hardens.

“These are the police reports. I’ve sealed them to make sure nobody has access to them.” Zander says, placing them in a filing cabinet near his desk, and then Zander hands another file over to him. “Seth, take the case report back to Tanya and tell her that I want Mr. Dmitriev in my office Thursday morning at nine am sharp.”

“Yes, Mr. Wright,” Seth says, snatching the file away and nearly sprinting out of the room.

Zander takes a deep breath, loosening his silk fitted Armani jacket.

If this were a normal day, he would have yelled at Seth for not bringing these files in sooner. His father wanted this situation dealt with as quickly and discreetly as possible.

However, today was unlike any other day. His fingers twitch with anticipation as he wills himself to calm down.

Zander moves from his chair, eager to get the blood pumping and not to dwell on the reason why it feels like his heart wants to burst from his chest.

About the Author  

Heaven and hell, demons and angels. J.K Jones has always had an affinity for otherworldly things. From her debut novel, it’s easy to see she loves all things crawling in the shadows. As it so happens, J.K Jones is the author of a gritty, fun, action-packed, soul-rending novel. Her characters are so dark and twisted they defy the dimensions of this world. She does not believe in HEA, she does believe in writing a suitable ending for her characters. Never will you read any of her works where the characters ride off into the sunset together. Not going to happen. There is nothing J.K. Jones loves more than a tragic ending. She is an avid reader, poet, and LGBTQ activist. She is a University graduate with a BA in Sociology, also has a TESOL certificate for teaching English as a Second Language.

Author Links

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Book Blast – Ordinary Whore by Dieter Moitzi

BOOK BLAST

Book Title: Ordinary Whore

Author: Dieter Moitzi

Publisher: Self-published

Cover Artist: Dieter Moitzi

Genre/s: Mystery, Romance

Trope/s: Family secrets, escort, healing, rebirth, finding a soulmate

Themes: High society, escort, finding oneself, false perceptions, finding the sense of life, resilience

Heat Rating:  0 – 1 flame     

Length: 87 222 words / 328 pages

It is a standalone book.

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Buy Links

Universal Link  |  Amazon US  |   Amazon UK  |   Kobo

A story of loneliness, loss, treacherous perception, family secrets, and… rebirth.

Blurb 

People tell me I should count my blessings. “You’re handsome, Marc,” they say, “handsome, rich, young, and intelligent.” But then, given time and opportunity, people would always say inanities, I think. 

Am I handsome? Honestly, I don’t know, but it seems so; handsome enough, at any rate, that I’m allowed to live comfortably off my looks. I’m not rich, mind you, but the men and women paying for my company fling enough crumbs of their wealth my way. I’m still fairly young, too, but since when is youth anyone’s personal achievement? Last but not least, I’m not sure about my intelligence. I’m not even sure being intelligent would be a blessing. 

Anyway, I can’t complain—my life is not unpleasant. I’m a bit bored, a bit melancholic, my mood often as black as the clothes I wear all the time.  

And now my father has died. It shouldn’t mean anything to me—for years we tried to have as few ties or dealings with each other as possible. But all of a sudden, everything comes crumbling down, and my life turns into an unwholesome mess… 

Excerpt

—107—

He is just that guy. In his sixties, balding, short and slender; some would even say gaunt. His skin is white and papery. Thin lips, thin features, a jaded attitude. His eyes are… wait a second… grey? Yes, grey, I think, the shade of light-coloured steel, and his gaze is cold but not too cold. He is no man of extremes; a nondescript guy in fact who looks like an accountant or a small-town solicitor. 

Someone of little interest or concern for me, more present in the media than in my thoughts.

And yet, by one of those strange, sly whims that destiny seems to love, that guy is my father.

Or rather, that guy was my father. Because he is dead now.

—106—

My older sister is the one who spills the beans. It’s half past nine in the evening. I’m sitting on my white sofa, turning the pages of a fashion magazine, my gaze empty like the faces of the models who are striking poses on the glossy pages before me. Gentle boredom seeps in through the half-open windows, glides over the walls, oozes from every piece of furniture, glistens on the glass or metal surfaces, forming a motionless, invisible, indolent space-time that surrounds me like a halo.

I’ve switched the television on but turned the volume down to a subdued whisper. The soft sounds of a TV game blend with the persistent hum of the traffic downstairs. From time to time, I lift my eyes from the magazine to look at the game host’s white-toothed smile, which seems as genuine as a handbag purchased from a street vendor in Italy. I don’t really follow the show; it is just a means to drown the mortal silence of my apartment. My other choices would have been to listen to the unutterable sadness of a Mahler symphony, or bear the silent cries of my immaculate walls.

That’s when the phone rings.

I pick it up and recognise Raphaëlle, my older sister. Apart from sounding breathless, she is the same as usual. Her vocabulary remains precise, her weary and cold inflections suggesting that we are not on earth to have fun but for other purposes, none of which very pleasant. That’s her in a nutshell: unfazed, unaffected, wintry. Imagine an emotionless automaton. Well, I’m speaking of so-called positive emotions, of course. She knows how to be curt and authoritarian. She knows how to throw an angry fit if needs be.

 “Hi Marc. It’s Raphaëlle,” she says. Then, without further ado, she tells me the news. She is staying with our mother, because the old man died.

“Did he? When? And how?” I enquire.

“Let me think… Two days ago. Or was it three? I don’t know. You want me to ask Mother?”

“No, don’t bother. I’m simply surprised it wasn’t announced on the news yet. Where is she now? Mother, I mean.”

“In the kitchen. Said she was feeling peckish.”

“Opening a new bottle, you mean. I should’ve known. Nice try, though…” I trail off, my brain blank for a second. What should I say now? Am I supposed to condole Raphaëlle? Would that be the appropriate next step?

I don’t want to make a mistake, so I ask, “Do I need to come over? I suppose there’ll be a funeral, right?”

“Of course.” My sister makes a strange noise, something between dry laughter and a sniff. “One doesn’t say funeral,however; one prefers to say obsequies, brother dearest. I even brought my pearls for the occasion. One needs to be glam, you know. But you don’t sound eager to join us.”

“Are you kidding me? To be filmed during Father’s—obsequies, is it?— why, nothing could enchant me more.”

My sister sighs. “Marc, spare me your sarcasm, okay? The funeral takes place the day after tomorrow. It goes without saying that you should assist. But if you prefer to stay away, no problem. Do what you want. You’re free, after all.” Her voice remains monotonous.

“All right. I’ll check the train schedule,” I reply. “And call you back sometime tomorrow. Is that okay?”

“Perfect.”

I notice how peculiar her voice sounds, hoarse and croaky. “What’s up with you?” I ask, incredulous. “Don’t tell me you’ve been weeping!”

“Don’t be ridiculous! It’s just that… it’s bloody freezing in this house. I guess I’ve caught a cold. That’s all.”

You can read another excerpt on the author’s website.

About the Author 

Born in the early 70s, I grew up in a little village in Austria. At the age of 18, I moved to Vienna to get my master’s degree in Political Sciences, French, and Spanish. Today, I’m living in Paris, France, with my boyfriend and work as a graphic designer. 

In my spare time, I write, read, cook fancy recipes, take photos, and as often as I can, I travel (Italy, Portugal, Morocco, Egypt, the UK, and many more places). My literary tastes are eclectic, ranging from fantasy, murder mysteries, gay romances to dystopian novels, but I won’t say no to poetry or a history book either. I’m more a hoodie/jeans/sneakers kind of guy than a suit-and-tie chap. 

So far, I’ve published two short-story collections as well as four poetry collections. My first murder mystery novel “The Stuffed Coffin” has been released on January 6, 2019 and is also available in German and French. The French version has won the prestigious French Gay Murder Mystery Award 2019 (Prix du roman policier – Prix du roman gay 2019). My second novel “Till Death Do Us Part” was released on June 24, 2020. You can also find me on Rainbow Book Reviews, where I write book reviews under the pseudonym of ParisDude (for French reviews, have a look at my review site livresgay.fr). 

Author Links

Blog/Website  |  Facebook

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Book Blast – The Emancipation: Dion’s Baptism by Dijon M McIntyre #KindleUnlimited

BOOK BLAST

Book Title: The Emancipation: Dion’s Baptism

Author: Dijon M McIntyre 

Publisher: FreedomArtz LLC

Cover Artist: Cameron Dudley 

Release Date: December 5, 2019

Genre: Contemporary Adult Fiction

Trope: Therapy

Themes: Love, Depression, Forgiveness, Coming out, Acceptance

Heat Rating: No heat

Length:  34 365 words/128 pages

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Buy Links – Available on Kindle Unlimited

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A young gay man has a near death experience that forces him to go through therapy and recount the events of his abusive past that led to his excessive drinking and depression.

Blurb

The Emancipation: Dion’s Baptism is a fictional story about a young man who has a near death experience and ends up going to therapy, forcing him to dig up painful memories from his past and discover what is the real cause behind his depression and his excessive drinking. He not only finds the answers he’s looking for but also the strength to forgive all the people who have hurt him.

Excerpt 

“It’s something I don’t normally tell people about because I don’t want them blaming my sexuality on that. With me being gay, I feel that people in my life always look for an explanation as to why I’m gay or how I “became” gay. It’s not like it was one particular incident that made me like guys, I’ve been this way for as long as I can remember. As a child I didn’t really know a name for it or a label to attach to it, I just knew I was always attracted to men. I don’t care too much about how anyone else feels about it, this is part of who I am.”

“If you don’t mind me asking, what people in your life did you feel wanted an explanation from you about your sexuality?”

“Everyone, at least that’s the way it felt. Close friends, family members. They all wanted to know why I’m like this; they treated it like it was a disease. I remember people in my family asking me if I had been molested by someone in the family or saying that I turned out like this because I used to carry my grandmother’s purse to her car for her before she went to work. People tried to find every explanation for something that didn’t need one. It’s like I’m asking me why I’m black. Who cares as to why I’m this way, I just am.” Dion doesn’t look Cathy directly in her eyes when talking about him being gay and feeling rejection.

“Seems like you felt the pain of rejection a lot in your life.”

“More than you know, in some ways I think rejection is the very reason that I’m in this office talking to you in the first place.”

“What is your earliest memory of being rejected?”

“Ouch. I need to take another drink before I tell you this one.”

“Is it that bad?”

“Not sure if bad is necessarily the right term to use–more so painful.”

August 5th, 2001

“DJ, what are you doing?” Kesiah asks in a slightly critical tone.

“Singing duh, I love to sing.”

“You do?  Since when?” She rolls her eyes.

“Since always, I always sing in my plays at B.C. Cook.” Dion expresses with a child-like excitement

“Well you need to stop singing.”

“Why?” 

“Because you aren’t good at it. Momma used to always say that ‘if you ain’t gone sing a song right then don’t sing it at all.” Keisha walks away, leaving Dion’s eyes full of tears that he silently lets out. 

Present Therapy Session

“Keisha is your sister, correct?

“Yeah.” Dion twiddles his thumbs showing his anxiety from talking about his sister.

“When she told you that you couldn’t sing, how old were you?”

“I was seven, I looked at my sister at that time as my best friend. I looked to her for encouragement and support.”

“In that moment, do you feel like she failed you by crushing your expectations of her?”

“I did feel that way, wisdom and time has helped me to forgive her and understand that she wasn’t really trying to hurt my feelings. She was a  thirteen-year-old girl who was still hurting from the death of her mother, our mother. And she didn’t fully know how to process the things that were going on in her life at that time. Looking back, I actually feel bad for not being more understanding about the pain she was in. I held that against her for a long time.

“I know you said that you forgave your sister but what about the effect of what she said? Do you still want to become a singer?”

“Not really, I mean she wasn’t entirely wrong in what she said. She wasn’t entirely right either. I did love singing and my elementary school was a performing arts school so I got to do every area of performance whether I was good at it or not. I decided that my real passion lies somewhere between not just performing but also creating.”

“So you want to be a music producer? Or a singer-songwriter?”

About the Author

Dijon McIntyre is an Author/Actor/Director amongst many other things. He was raised in the beautiful sunshine state of Florida which has had a profound effect on his writing and his artistic performances. Getting into acting at the young age of 6, he is familiar with many different types of performing including acting and music but he attributes his love for all of these things to his undying love for God. Raised as a Christian and now identifying as a “follower of Christ”, Dijon has a vision to use his publishing/production company FreedomArtz to open up opportunities for the people who want to make their dreams come true while still maintaining a liveable wage doing what they love. You can find any of his three books on Amazon, Google Books, or any major online retailer. 

Social Media Links

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Book Blast – Fast, Free and Flying by Jude Tresswell #KindleUnlimited

BOOK BLAST

Book Title: Fast, Free and Flying (County Durham Quad, #6)

Author: Jude Tresswell

Publisher: Self-published (KDP)

Release Date: December 9, 2020

Genre/s: Contemporary gay mystery

Trope/s: Ace/non-ace relationships

Themes:  Compromise; guilt; revenge

Heat Rating:  1 flame

Length: 63 000 words

The mystery story stands alone. Helpful, but not essential, to have read a previous title due to character development.

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Buy Links – Available on Kindle Unlimited

Amazon US  |   Amazon UK 

Suspects of one crime. Victims of another.

Blurb

Drones lie at the heart of this mystery facing Mike, Ross, Raith and Phil, four men who live in North-East England.

A spate of art-related burglaries and a series of horrific kidnaps have occurred. The freedom of the quad, and that of Nick, their special friend, is threatened by involvement in both cases. They are suspected of one and Mike is a victim of the other. The officer in charge is the quad’s old enemy, the homophobic Chief Inspector Fortune. Should the quad set aside their distrust and tell him what they know?

Meanwhile, Nick has issues of his own to consider. Compromises are needed, but how many? 

This is the sixth tale in the County Durham Quad series. Background is included to aid new readers.

Excerpt

From Chapter 1

(The whole chapter, read by the author with aerial footage of the setting, is available on YouTube. Link below) 

A new sound had been added to the rustic ones that normally formed the backdrop to life in the Durham hills. Instead of the bleating of sheep, there was a whirring—and it came from the sky. The quad’s new video channel was up and running, and Raith, plus drone, was filming everything and everyone. He was, as he liked to put it, “Doing the rounds.”

   “Doin’ my head in,” was how it seemed to Mike and, right then, there was a danger of that actually happening. Mike was responsible for nearly all the quad’s maintenance work. He was sitting astride a rooftop, replacing the flashing on one of Tunhead’s chimneys. Tunhead was the little hamlet where the quad lived. It was the seat of BOTWAC, the Beck On The Wear Arts Centre, and the video channel was designed, in part, to promote the artisans’ wares.

   “Watch what you’re doin’ with that bloody thing!” Mike yelled from his perch.

   “It’s alright, Mike. I’m in full control,” Raith yelled back.

   “Not from where I am, you’re not! I thought you weren’t supposed to fly it over buildin’s!”

   Raith made the drone whizz round in a circle and shouted, “Well Tunhead doesn’t really count as buildings, does it? I mean, twelve tiny houses, my studio and a disused church. It’s hardly buildings.”

   “It felt like buildin’s when Ross and I were refurbishin’ it all, and it felt like buildin’s three years ago when I knocked the walls through to next door just to give you leg room.”

   “That’s building, Mike, not buildings.”

   Sometimes, there was no answer to Raith’s logic. Mike swore softly, sighed and decided to wait until tea-time, when all the men would be home together. They’d discuss Raith and his drone then. First things first. He continued repairing the chimney.

***

   In Tees, Tyne and Wear Constabulary’s new Tyneside police station, another drone-related conversation had caused heated words that day. The woman making a complaint was angry.

   “Look,” she said to the officer on the front counter, “this is the third time it’s happened in a fortnight. I ignored the first invasion of my privacy. The second time the blesséd thing was hovering overhead, I telephoned. I was told that someone would contact me. Nobody’s done so, and this morning it happened again. I want something doing. I feel I can’t go into my own garden and I’m bothered that whoever’s doing this is spying on me and my children. It’s horrible and it shouldn’t be allowed.”

   The woman had good reason to feel harassed. She lived in what had once been the lodge of a large country estate. That is, she occupied the house that lay at one end of a long, tree-lined drive. The drive led, through parkland with trees and an ornamental lake, to a substantial eighteenth century property. On three occasions recently, the peace of the surroundings had been broken by the whirring of a drone. More importantly, she felt intimidated by the drone’s presence. As she said, she felt she was being spied on. Surely that was a crime?

   It was, the official told her. At least two different offences connected with drone misuse might be invoked on the woman’s behalf, but, in a case like hers, invoking them was problematic. Even if an incident should happen again and a patrol car could reach her while the drone was still visible and airborne, there was little that officers could do. Firstly, they would need to locate and identify the flyer. If they felt that a harassment offence had been committed, they could instruct the flyer to land the drone. However, there was no power of seizure and, indeed, no power to even view the footage unless there was suspected terrorist activity—unlikely in this case. The woman had to be content with an apology and a promise that an officer would definitely come and visit her. In fact, a detective called a few days later, but not specifically because of her case. By then, the big country house had been burgled, and thousands of pounds of silver, porcelain and artwork had been stolen.

About the Author 

Jude Tresswell lives in south-east England but was born and raised in the north, and that’s where her heart is. She is ace, and has been married to the same man for many years. She feels that she understands compromise. She supports Liverpool FC, listens to a lot of blues music and loves to write dialogue.

Blog/Website

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Book Blast – Midas Touch: A Christmas Romance by Alex Hall #KindleUnlimited #giveaway

BOOK BLAST

Book Title: Midas Touch: A Christmas Romance

Author: Alex Hall

Publisher: Madison Place Press

Cover Artist: Rebecca Slather

Release Date: November 9, 2020

Genre: F/F Romance

Themes/Tropes: Christmas, childhood friends to lovers

Heat Rating:  3 flames   

Length:  75 000 words/ 208 pages

It is a standalone book.

Goodreads

Buy Links – Available on Kindle Unlimited

Amazon US  |  Amazon UK 

Blurb

Gwen Cook has returned to Williamsburg, Virginia, after more than a decade away from her family estate. Frankie Porter has spent the last year renovating that same estate, turning the dilapidated Cook mansion into a showpiece. Gwen and Frankie shared a childhood full of hard secrets and ripe with first love. Now adults, their paths cross again and sparks fly.

A HEA with content warnings for PTSD and implied child abuse.

Excerpt 

 The boathouse had barely changed in twelve years. The creek ran quite a bit deeper and wider. Brown water had swallowed up much of the far bank and licked in pools about the base of the boathouse itself. Frankie had to shove back kudzu and sumac as she walked. The soles of her boots sank inches into mud. Tiny pink-and-white wildflowers grew up between the trees, and here and there she spotted a drooping hedge bright with red berries.

She made her way cautiously through the undergrowth until she could touch the old building. Standing against the foundation, she cocked her head and squinted up along brick walls. The boathouse seemed as sturdy as she remembered. Two stories high and crumbling on the outside, it was ruler straight and strong except for the roof, which still sagged but hadn’t given in to the elements and fallen.

“Used to be, they knew how to build to last.” Frankie patted the warm brick.

The structure didn’t tower the way it had in her childhood, but she supposed it wouldn’t. She had grown—her bones had lengthened into adulthood. She’d managed to top five feet, barely. At sixteen, she’d feared she would be stuck forever just above four.

Frankie hesitated, glancing up into the sky. The trees had grown tall, and she could see less of the sun than she remembered. The place was definitely cooler, definitely shadier; but on a warm summer afternoon, shade wasn’t such a bad thing.

She leaned against the boathouse and untied her boots. Stripping off her shoes and socks, she stood barefoot in the mud, regarding the brick walls. Twelve years gone and she was no longer a child. Could she do it?

Of course she could. Was it wise?

Probably not.

But her fingers and toes found the old cracks easily, and before she knew it, she was halfway up the wall. The brick brushed her khaki shorts, leaving brown stains. A branch streaked her white shirt with sap. Frankie didn’t notice. At the top she hoisted herself over the edge of the roof and onto the shingles. She sat very still, holding her breath, waiting to see if the roof would protest. The shingles held, even when she rose to her feet and tiptoed across the top of the boathouse to her old perch.

She looked up and around first, admiring the oak and the dogwood and the ash with their green-as-grass leaves. She sucked in the fragrance of the creek as she brushed her bangs from her eyes. Then she took a deeper breath and looked down.

James Creek glittered below, cut into geometric shapes by dim sunlight. Shadows gathered at the edges of the water and then spread away along the bank. From where she stood, the water looked deep and inviting.

About the Author 

Sarah Remy/Alex Hall is a nonbinary, animal-loving, proud gamer Geek. Their work can be found in a variety of cool places, including HarperVoyagerEDGE and NineStar Press.

Author Links

Blog/Website  |  Twitter: @sarahremywrites 

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