Apr 02

Release Blitz: Bank Run by Alli Reshi (Excerpt & Giveaway)

Filed under Book Blitz, Giveaways

Title: Bank Run

Series: Expanding Horizon, Book Two

Author: Alli Reshi

Publisher: NineStar Press

Release Date: April 2, 2018

Heat Level: 1 – No Sex

Pairing: Male/Male

Length: 19400

Genre: Science Fiction, LGBT, science fiction, disability/PTSD/post-traumatic stress, military, hurt/comfort, interracial/intercultural, crime, HFN

Add to Goodreads

Synopsis

Mark Noland doesn’t know how he always ends up in these situations. All he wants is a few quiet days on Rescon with his new boyfriend Gavnson. But he’s just finished a job, and the rest of his team wants their pay.

A simple trip to the bank shouldn’t be much trouble, and then it’s back to peace and quiet. What could possibly go wrong? The answer to this is apparently robbery, kidnapping, and a foot chase across town. A run to the bank takes on a whole new meaning when you also have to thwart the bad guys.

A simple crime unravels to something much more. Amidst the chaos, Mark and Gavnson not only end up with new friends, but a renewed focus on Gavnson’s ongoing PTSD issues—once they finally have a moment to themselves.

*Bank Run is the second installment in the Expanding Horizons series and is best read after book one, Oops, Caught.

Excerpt

Bank Run
Alli Reshi © 2018
All Rights Reserved

Chapter One
Fire and metal shrapnel rained down, pinging off the roof of my small fighter ship.

“Everian Gavnson— The second Squadron is surrounded by the enemy. They are also advancing against the third. What are your orders?” Caspian Dal’s voice came crackling over the damaged coms line.

“Fourth squadron— Provide support for the second. Come in from the enemy’s right, and you can break up that dogfight. My men with me. We’re going to come in from the low left across the gorge. We can bottleneck the enemy there and stop their advance,” I called the orders across the channels.

A resounding “Yes, sir!” was the answer as the other fighter ships split off in their new assignments.

I angled my ship across the sky, leading the first squadron toward the swarm of ships. Blue mixed with white, though the blue was slowly overtaking the other. The infiltration of Zux pilots was taking its toll on my men. The battle for Rescon had already cost us so much. Our objective was to stop them in the skies so they couldn’t get to Rescon’s surface. Swooping under the belly of a few blue Zux ships, I opened fire on them, ripping through the metal and breezing by the ships as they crashed. The added forces were pushing back the opposition.

“Sir, your six!” the warning whined on the line. Reacting before glancing over, I angled my ship away from the oncoming attack. When I did look, I realized no amount of quick maneuvering would save me. A ship from higher up had collided with those below it, dragging and catching them as the tangled mess of metal fell from directly above me toward my ship.

Pushing the thrusters hard, I moved as far away from the trajectory as I could. I wouldn’t clear the area in time, but if I could minimize the damage, I could make an emergency landing. The wreckage struck the side of my ship, tearing the wing clean off. One of the engines ignited in the impact. Fire spread across the windshield. All I could see was fire. The fire. Fire everywhere—burning, trapping, killing.

I bolted awake, off-balance, and confined. I fought against the restraint, pushing and tugging until I felt cold air against my skin. Then, something was on my shoulder holding me. Pushing me back. I lashed out an arm against it.

“Gav, Gav hold still. Calm down. You’re all right; breathe, Gav. Can you hear me?” a voice said. Mark’s voice. The initial panic slowly faded from my mind. It was Mark’s hand on my shoulder. The sheets from my bed were tangled around my legs. Taking a deep breath, I reached a hand to Mark’s, suddenly realizing how shaky my own was against his steady one.

“Yes, I’m fine,” I said, clearing my throat.

“You sure? You’re trembling. Was it that dream again? You wanna talk about it?” Mark asked, leaning toward me. I shrugged off his hand, pulling away.

“No. Everything is all right, Mark. I’m going to take a shower. You can go back to sleep now.” I pushed off the blankets and forced myself to walk steadily to the adjoining bathroom.

After locking the door behind me, I turned on the shower and sat on the tile floor in the far corner of the room, my back against the wall. Curling in on myself, I was no longer able to fight the shaking of my body. My vision blurred, and I couldn’t focus on any one thing around me. All my senses screamed that everything was too much, too loud, too everything. Hopefully, the sound of the water muffled any sobs that escaped. My chest hurt from phantom pains and how hard it was to breathe. It was as though my lungs had forgotten how to, or not wanting to, would rather stop and close in on themselves.

Worst of all, I could feel the fire burning on my arm, searing through flesh. The cold wall behind me did little to help. The war was over, yet I couldn’t escape it, dogged by fire and failure in my sleep.

I don’t know how long it was before I could focus again and the shivers stopped. The burning on my arm had lost intensity, fading rapidly as I focused on taking deep gulping breaths, even though it stung. Mark hadn’t come knocking at the door, so it couldn’t have been that long.

Stripping off my sweat-dampened clothes, I finally stepped under the freezing spray of water. I found that I much preferred cold showers after the war and the hospital. I also refused to own another sponge of any sort, throwing them and any kind of liquid soap out in favor of bars and rough towels if necessary.

It had been about a month since Mark and I had agreed to start this relationship. Even with the time we spent apart for our respective careers, it was working out well. Better than I could have hoped. My off-planet missions were few, as I preferred to stay close to home. There was more than enough to keep me busy here with Stella Corps, while Mark chose any jobs across the quadrant that caught his fancy. Being that Mark’s starship was his home, when he wasn’t out on a job, he spent most of his time with me at my home. His team didn’t seem to mind the extra time spent on Rescon either.

Having Mark with me was a welcome change from the silence that permeated the building without him to fill it with laughter and conversation, however it didn’t stop the nightmares. I always felt guilty for waking him; it was unfair to him after all the help he gave me. Especially on nights like last night when he came in late, tired from a job, and well-deserving of some rest. He didn’t need me waking him up over something I should have long gotten over. In truth, I had been lucky; I knew that.

I had come home when so many hadn’t. I only had scars where so many had lost limbs. It was pathetic to still be holding onto fears when the danger had long passed.

I quickly finished my shower and turned off the water, not wanting Mark to worry and come investigating.

Drying off, I glanced at my reflection in the mirror. Dark hair plastered against my forehead. A once perfect complexion was now littered with appalling scars. Thankfully, the ones on my face were hardly noticeable if you didn’t know to look. The rest of me had not been as fortunate.

The burn marks were far more distinct over my left side. Trailing from my neck to almost my hip in patchy grooves, they also took up most of my arm and spread across my chest. I turned away from the mirror, tying the towel around my waist.

I should have the mirror removed the next chance I had—a sentiment I always had after a shower, but never managed to go through with. It was too easy to indulge in the shame of what my image now was. In any case, Mark would question it, and that was something I would rather avoid. I paused at the door, listening for any noise coming from the outer room.

Hearing nothing meant Mark must have either left the room or gone back to sleep. I cautiously opened the door, and the sun’s morning light filtering in through the window showed an empty room. Faint voices floated in from the direction of the kitchen.

I dressed quickly, worried that Mark might walk into the room before I was ready. A long-sleeved thin shirt hid the worst of the scars and simple pants covered the few on my legs. Having not yet let Mark see all of my scars, I was careful to always be clothed around him. Mark had said that he wouldn’t mind seeing them, but I was not ready to show more of myself to him. I still worried about his reaction. After combing my hair into something respectable, I walked toward the voices, steeling myself to greet the added guests.

“I’m just saying you don’t even know his first name, man. I’m not complaining about not having to listen to you talk about your sex life all’o the time now. But you sure ’bout this, boss? Relationships ain’t one-night stands—you gotta be serious here. Gotta be able to trust a person.”

I recognized Ken’s voice without having to turn the corner and paused in the shadows. I shouldn’t have to eavesdrop in my own house, yet I wanted to hear the honest conversation that wouldn’t happen with me there. Wanted to know what his teammates thought of me, though it did not appear to be a conversation in my favor.

“Dude, are you still harping on this?” Mark huffed. “Ken, let it go. The name thing is cultural, okay? Lots of Resconians don’t say it until they’re married. It’s like a super personal thing, and I can respect that. Stuff like this takes time, you know. Ain’t like I’m laying all my secrets out on the table either. You gotta build the trust slowly, and I trust him to tell me when he’s ready.” I could imagine the scowl he had as he crossed his arms.

Considering that Mark was more given to casual and informal mannerisms, I had been surprised at how easily he had adapted when I explained why Resconians only used surnames. It was an old social norm that revealing a given name was the truest form of trust and love. It gave me a small thrill to call Mark by his name privately—knowing it was his preference as well as a sign of his trust. I found it endearing how he mixed his habit for nicknames yet considered my preference. Still, our relationship was far too new to tell him my given name, or call him by his while in company.

“I believe what our esteemed mechanic is trying to say, is that we worry about you. You’re not only our boss; you’re our friend as well. As a friend, we want you to be in a healthy relationship. Given your previous lovers, this is a drastic change.” The higher-pitched voice chiming in told me that Tamaroa was here too.

“I know it’s different,” Mark said, his voice strained. “It’s weird for me sometimes, too, you know. Coming back to the same place all the time. And missing him. Lonely is something I’m used to having an instant fix for, but I can’t do that anymore because Gavnson matters. I want it to work with him. So, let me figure it out myself and drop it, all right?”

Knowing he missed me when he was away—same as I missed him—was an odd comfort. And it was reassuring that he would defend me, even though I sometimes thought his coworkers might have a more accurate opinion of me. After a few moments of silence, it was obvious they had dropped the topic. I might as well greet my guests properly.

Rounding the corner to enter the kitchen, I saw Ken and Tamaroa at the table, while Mark was standing by the stove, making something in a pan. Rescon had more than its fair share of interspecies travelers. But that still didn’t take away the strangeness of having others at my table.

I was so often alone in this room that the brightness of the fox’s dark blue fur and the woman’s rich orange skin would take some getting used to.

“You didn’t tell me your team would be visiting this morning, Noland,” I said, not wanting to sound accusing, but a warning would have been nice.

“Sorry, I didn’t know either, and some people don’t know what manners are. So, they invite themselves anywhere.” Mark sighed and gave Ken a pointed look. He momentarily abandoned breakfast to come to my side and give me a hug. His warmth was a welcome balm to my unsettled nerves. “Are you feeling better now? Is it okay for them to be here? I can kick them out if you want, no problem,” Mark whispered and then kissed my cheek.

He had no concern with showing affection any time he wanted. For the most part, I liked the attention too much to scold him for it when there were others around.

“No, it’s fine; I don’t mind,” I said quietly, giving him a one-armed hug in return before letting him go back to the stove. “It’s a pleasure to see you as always, Tamaroa, Ken.” I greeted the two as I sat at the table across from them so I could watch Mark.

“Sorry for the intrusion,” Tamaroa responded, brushing back her hair, a dark red against her skin. “Ken can be quite demanding when he wants something. Mark never said, but how did everything turn out on your end with our last joint effort? Was there any information missing?” It was easy to forget that Mark’s well-spoken navigator was also a highly trained assassin.

“No, you both did admirably,” I said. “As far as our technicians have found, nothing was leaked and all the files were still intact. Thanks to all your efforts, you prevented the potential exposure of a number of secret operatives.” I had assumed Mark would have told them about the successful conclusion of our mission long ago, but this at least gave me the chance to thank them in person.

“I imagine Stella would have just as many enemies as allies, and any information about your movements could go for a high price.” Tamaroa’s tone was far too light for a matter that could have been life or death to many officers. Then again, perhaps I shouldn’t expect differently from a woman in her profession.

“Unfortunately, yes,” I said. “Since Mark is always very vague about his work, I don’t suppose you’d be willing to make a few things clearer?” I could feel Mark’s eyes on me, and even though we’d both agreed that sometimes there were parts of our jobs we couldn’t talk about, it didn’t always stop professional curiosity. Tamaroa’s only response was a small smile that said I would not be getting any answers from her.

“All right, enough chitchat,” Ken huffed, his tail thumping against the leg of his chair. “I want Mr. Domestic over there to hand over our share of the pay from the last job. I ain’t looking to spend the day with no Stella officer in a stuffy house. Just ’cause you’ve turned sweet on the military sort, don’t mean I have. I got shit to do.” Ken had not warmed up to me nearly as much as Tamaroa had. Mark reassured me this was friendlier than Ken got with most.

“Hey, that Stella officer is my boyfriend, and I like his company. So, shut your muzzle. Besides, we just got here, and I’m sorry, but some of us like to sleep. Banks don’t even open until, like, nine anyways—so hold your tail.” Mark slid what was in the pan onto a waiting plate. Ah, he was making those fluffy flat breads he called pancakes. Terran food was odd.

I don’t think I had seen him cook anything that didn’t require some breed of fowl eggs. And he was always complaining they weren’t the same as chicken eggs, whatever those were. Mark had tried to describe chickens to me once, and for as much as I recognized that fauna was different across the galaxy, small flightless birds were not something I could easily conceptualize.

I knew that some planets domesticated their fowl, but the fear of them had been ingrained in me since childhood. It wasn’t an ungrounded fear, as the Ioxerous birds were as large as the average man and viciously carnivorous. They were the smallest breed of bird on Rescon. Thankfully, the mountains were the only place you would find them. These differences had led Mark and me to a have a few circular discussions about the merits of domestication of fowl.

Mark insisted on cooking, going so far as to favor old-fashioned methods of manually making the food, instead of letting the automatic kitchen equipment prepare the dishes for him. I had no love for cooking, so I left him to his strange cuisine.

“Oh, I’m sure you and pretty boy did plenty of sleeping. Then again, you were awful quick to open that door, and all rumpled too,” Ken said, winking at Mark. I tensed at the unknowing reminder that I had awakened Mark this morning. Even though he was still tired from his last mission, he hadn’t said anything about it. Yet, I could see the weariness as he moved about. It appeared I was nothing more than a bother.

“Okay, you’re done. Out. We discussed this— No suggestive or lewd comments that make Gav uncomfortable. So, out now. Before I skin you, and we’ll have a side of fox to go with breakfast.” Mark waved the spatula at Ken, whose fur bristled in offense.

“I think we’ve stayed long enough.” Tamaroa stood. “Enjoy your morning, Mark, and a pleasure to see you again, Gavnson. We’ll be on our way now.” She grabbed Ken by his scruff and lifted the four-foot Vanaska fox easily, ignoring his demands to be put down as they left the house. Mark chuckled at the antics.

Purchase

NineStar Press | Amazon | Smashwords | Barnes & Noble | Kobo

Meet the Author

Alli has always had a love for just about any story she can get her hands on. Be it from books, TV, or even video games—if there’s a good story, she will love it. Given that, it’s easy to see how Alli moved on to making stories of her own.

Raised in a small Colorado town, Alli also has a love of the outdoors and enjoys hiking. Nowadays she lives in a bigger city and fits in just fine there too, liking how close and comfy everything is. Often at home with her two cats, Alli is never far from her computer whether for work or for play. She believes the truth is a multifaceted thing and always works to write the world, and subsequently the truth of the world, as she sees it.

Facebook | Twitter

Giveaway

a Rafflecopter giveaway

Apr 02

Release Blitz: On a Summer Night by Gabriel D. Vidrine (Excerpt & Giveaway)

Filed under Giveaways

Title: On a Summer Night

Author: Gabriel D. Vidrine

Publisher: NineStar Press

Release Date: April 2, 2018

Heat Level: 1 – No Sex

Pairing: Male/Male

Length: 56200

Genre: Contemporary, LGBT, contemporary, YA, trans, bisexual, asexual, coming-of-age, coming out, family drama, HFN, #ownvoices

Add to Goodreads

Synopsis

Fourteen-year-old Casey is determined to have fun this summer going to camp with his best friend, Ella. His overprotective mother frets that attending this one instead of trans camp like he’s always done will cause problems, but Casey has his heart set on going stealth anyway.

His mom just might be right.

All Ella wants is love for her best friend, and she’s determined to set him up with someone, despite Casey’s protests that he just wants to have fun, not get involved in a summer romance. But things get complicated when camp bully Ryan focuses his energies on the two friends. At least Casey’s cute bunkmate, Gavin, appears interested in getting to know him better, making Casey rethink the whole romance thing.

Until he finds out Gavin and Ryan are good friends.

Summer camp turns into so much more when Casey has to decide if Gavin is worth pursuing, friend of a bully or not.

There’s just one more problem: Ryan knows Casey is transgender.

Excerpt

On a Summer Night
Gabriel D. Vidrine © 2018
All Rights Reserved

“Do you have your socks?” my mother called up the stairs.

“Yes, mother!” I shouted back down at her. Of course I had socks. But I double-checked the large footlocker anyway, scrabbling through it until I found them. They were buried under my binders, but there they were.

“Don’t forget towels!” came another shout up the stairs.

She knew me well. I always forgot something. I went back to my bathroom and rummaged around in the linen closet until I found enough towels for the trip.

When I got back to my room, Mom was staring down into my trunk, her hands on her hips. “Anything else?” she asked, eyeing how much was in it.

“I hope not.”

I tossed the towels in the trunk, only to be crushed into a hug from her. “I’m going to miss you Casey,” she said into my hair.

I patted her awkwardly. She meant well, but ever since I announced my desire to transition two years ago when I turned twelve, she’d gotten super overprotective and clingy. “I’ll miss you too, Mom.” I did mean it, but it was going to be a relief to be away from her for almost two weeks. Even though I’d never been away from my parents that long before, not even at trans camp.

She squeezed me harder until I gasped and then let me go. “Are you sure you want to do this?”

“For the millionth time, yes,” I said, rolling my eyes.

“Okay. I’ll get your dad to get this down the stairs,” she said, and then she was gone in a whirl of brown hair and scarves.

I shook my head at her back and pulled out my phone to text my best friend, Ella.

Me: Almost ready. U?

I knew she wouldn’t answer right away (she actually hated her phone, the weirdo), so I nervously went through my list again to make sure I hadn’t forgotten anything. I needed a distraction.

While I was rummaging, my dad, a big guy who had prematurely gone bald so he always wore an ugly hat, had lumbered up the stairs and was frowning down at my trunk. “Are you sure you need all that?” His voice was very deep.

“Yeah, Dad.” My phone buzzed in my pocket, but I ignored it. “It’s almost two weeks.”

“Twelve days,” he said.

“Yeah, I know.” I scratched at my head, slightly embarrassed to talk about my transition stuff with my dad. “I, you know, need some extra stuff.” I thought of the binders lying next to my socks.

He glanced at me and nodded, and then looked quickly away. He hadn’t been as supportive of my transition as my mom. When I first told him, he blurted, “But you’re a girl.”

We stood there in awkward silence for a moment as I wondered what I should say to him, father to son. But he hadn’t yet called me his son.

He cleared his throat, still not looking at me, and then crouched and heaved up the trunk onto a roller cart he’d carried up the stairs. It was going to be a pain getting it down on the cart, but at least he wouldn’t kill his back picking it up this way.

I helped him maneuver it down the stairs, wishing not for the first time I could start hormones. I wanted to be as strong as my dad, but I wasn’t old enough yet. Well, I was, but my parents wouldn’t approve it until I was sixteen. I figured Dad was the one holding out, because Mom would give me whatever I wanted.

Two more years.

When we finally got the trunk down the stairs, I pulled my phone out. Ella had texted back.

Ella: Yeah, loading the car. Are you ready?

Me: Yes! Just gotta say bye.

Ella: We’ll be there soon.

“Ella and her parents are going to be here soon,” I told my parents.

Mom had argued long and hard about how I was getting to camp. She wanted to take me, but I wanted to go with Ella and her parents. My friend and her brother had been going to this camp for years, and her parents knew exactly how to get there. Mom pursed her lips and crossed her arms over her chest. “Okay. Are you sure you have it all?”

Annoyance flared up. “Yes!” I said.

“Don’t take that tone with your mother,” Dad warned.

I closed my mouth and let the anger subside. It wouldn’t do to get into an argument with them now. They’d probably not let me go, whether or not they had already paid for my spot. And summer camp wasn’t cheap; I’d seen prices on the website.

“Sorry,” I mumbled, and Mom pulled me into another hug.

“Be safe, okay?” she said. “I wish you wanted to go to the trans camp instead.”

“Mom, please!”

“Okay, okay, I know. You want to go to regular camp like any regular boy.”

“I went to trans camp last year,” I said.

“I know, and you loved it. That’s why I wish you’d go again.”

“Stop worrying so much, Mom,” I told her. “The kids won’t hurt me.”

She didn’t look convinced when she finally let me go. It was true; trans camp had been fantastic. But everyone there knew I was trans. I wanted to go someplace where I didn’t always feel trans. I knew it was impossible, but I wanted a shot at it. All the other kids at trans camp had loved it, because they’d said they could shed their trans identity there. Since everyone was trans, we got to talk about other things. It made it less special, which was, in reality, a relief.

And that was the problem for me. I just wanted to be like any other boy. And all the other boys went to summer camp like the one I was going to, not to trans camp. I wanted to be a boy with the other boys.

Purchase

NineStar Press | Amazon | Smashwords | Barnes & Noble | Kobo

Meet the Author

Gabriel D. Vidrine is a trans masculine scientist, dancer, and writer but is working towards reversing that order. They teach and perform belly dance all over the country, but still manage to cram in writing time whenever and wherever possible.

They are an avid reader and writer, and love science fiction, fantasy, horror, and paranormal romance, but will give any genre a try.

Gabriel lives with their husband, video game systems, and ridiculous cat, Selina, in Chicago, IL.

Website | Facebook | Twitter

Giveaway

a Rafflecopter giveaway

#ownvoices, asexual, bisexual, Coming of Age, coming out, Contemporary, family drama, HFN, LGBT, Trans, YA
Leave comment

Apr 02

Blog Tour: Asylum by Robert Winter (Excerpt & Giveaway)

Filed under Blog Tour, Giveaways

Title: Asylum

Series: Pride and Joy book 2

Author: Robert Winter

Publisher: Robert Winter Books

Release Date: April 2, 2018

Heat Level: 4 – Lots of Sex

Pairing: Male/Male

Length: 120000

Genre: Romance, Contemporary

Add to Goodreads

Synopsis

Death threats drove him from his country. Can he ever find asylum from his past?

Hernán had family, college, and a future in El Salvador. Until a vicious gang targeted him as gay. Threatened with murder, he braved a nightmare journey toward a new life. Now, haunted by his trek, he hides from immigration trouble as well as his enemies. He prays to pass in Provincetown unnoticed.

But a handsome man with a secret like Hernán’s is vulnerable to predators.

Colin is in town for a wedding when he falls into the harbor. The man who rescues him is dark-haired, dark eyed and gorgeous. He’s also a target because of his immigration status. Colin owes a debt, and wants to repay it by helping his savior escape the monsters who would exploit him.

Hernán yearns to trust the kind man who offers him sanctuary. Will his demons destroy his chance at a future with Colin?

Asylum is a standalone gay romance novel but contains spoilers for the prior novel, September. Trigger warnings for brief references to off-page sexual abuse of a child and adult.

Excerpt

Brandon noticed as well and turned to follow Rudy’s gaze. He sighed. “Gerald. Of course. David ’n I managed to avoid him all summer. Guess my luck ran out.”

The newcomer was not as tall as David, but probably broke six feet. His silvering hair swept back dramatically, and he wore a fisherman’s sweater and jeans that looked too tight. His face was a bit jowly; Colin would place him around fifty-five or so. He had presence, though. He surveyed the restaurant like he owned the place, spotted Rudy, and walked over.

“I assume he’s working today,” Gerald said to Rudy, oblivious to the presence of customers.

Rudy flushed. “Yes, working. As in busy. Just like every time you come in here.”

Gerald looked down his nose at Colin, and then did a double-take when he focused on Brandon. “Oh. We’ve met.” His gray eyes narrowed in concentration. “Bradley, wasn’t it?”

Rudy said, “It’s Brandon. He came to the party you had last year, with David Something-or-other.” A glint of malice twinkled in Rudy’s eye as he added, “I remember how often you talked about David after that. Too bad he’s off the market. He and Brandon just got married yesterday.”

Gerald’s eyebrow twitched. “Married?” A flash of regret, confusion and longing crossed his face. Blankness covered it all quickly as Gerald turned to sneer at Rudy. “Well, I guess Brandon here knew how to play the game better than you.”

Rudy flushed and Brandon turned red. Colin saw he was about to do something rash. He picked up his fork and said loudly without looking at the asshole, “Thank you for stopping by, but we’re just about to eat. Rudy, could I get another tea?”

Gerald was clearly unused to being dismissed. Before he could say anything, Colin focused on Brandon. “So, David is off sailing with your sisters?” Rudy tittered and disappeared, and Brandon’s color returned to normal. Gerald stood there a few seconds longer before stomping off to a table in the corner of the restaurant.

“Nicely done,” Brandon said. “I almost lost it, but you kept cool.”

“Hey, I learned how to cut from the best hostess in Bergen County, New Jersey. You should see my mother working the room at a charity event. Icicles trail in her wake if anyone displeases her.”

“Charity events?” Brandon asked curiously. Colin realized his slip. He usually tried very hard not to mention his parents or anything about his family, so it was no wonder Brandon would take the opportunity to ask.

“Sometimes. Anyway, sailing?”

Brandon waited a moment, but then nodded. “David rented a boat to take Jo-Lynn, Suzanne and Matt out on the bay. I think Terry was goin’ with ’em too.” He chuckled. “Joe says the Lord may have walked on water but he prefers dry land.”

As they chatted, Colin noticed Gerald wave Rudy over to him. Rudy looked around the restaurant, but apparently could find no way to refuse without Gerald causing a scene. The restaurant was quiet enough he heard Gerald order Rudy in a peremptory tone, “Tell him to come out and talk to me.”

Rudy shook his head. “He’s working. He can’t take a break.”

Gerald snorted and gazed over the menu. “I could always have a chat with Claude. You know Claude, don’t you, Rudy? The owner of this restaurant? I think he might be shocked to find out what’s going on in his kitchen.”

Rudy flushed and pursed his lips. He looked around nervously, and then disappeared to the interior of the restaurant. A few moments later, he returned, accompanied by another man. He was slightly shorter than Rudy, and looked a few years younger, but the family resemblance between the two was strong.

That was why Rudy had looked familiar to Colin—he was clearly related to the man he led out. The man who had saved Colin the previous night.

The angel of his imagination.

Purchase

Robert Winter Books | Amazon

Meet the Author

Robert Winter is a Rainbow Award-winning author who lives and writes in Provincetown. He is a recovering lawyer who prefers writing about hot men in love much more than drafting a legal brief. He left behind the (allegedly) glamorous world of an international law firm to sit in his home office and dream up ways to torment his characters until they realize they are perfect for each other. When he isn’t writing, Robert likes to cook Indian food and explore new restaurants. He splits his attention between Andy, his partner of seventeen years, and Ling the Adventure Cat, who likes to fly in airplanes and explore the backyard jungle as long as the temperature and humidity are just right.

Website | Facebook | Twitter | Goodreads | eMail

Haven’t read September, book one in the Pride and Joy series yet? While Asylum can be read as a complete stand alone, you won’t want to miss David & Brandon’s story.

BUY IT NOW ON AMAZON!

Tour Schedule

4/2 Bayou Book Junkie

4/2 The Blogger Girls

4/3 Joyfully Jay

4/4 MM Good Book Reviews

4/5 The Novel Approach

4/6 Love Bytes

Giveaway

a Rafflecopter giveaway

Apr 02

Release Blitz: Midnight Twist by Rian Durant (Excerpt & Giveaway)

Filed under Book Blitz, Giveaways

Title: Midnight Twist

Author: Rian Durant

Publisher: NineStar Press

Release Date: April 2, 2018

Heat Level: 1 – No Sex

Pairing: Male/Male

Length: 19700

Genre: Paranormal, LGBT, fantasy, humor, demons

Add to Goodreads

Synopsis

Jaydon can’t afford to lose a bet he’s made, so when the sweet as sin Eluin offers him The Contract, it may be exactly what he needs. Or is it? Things get a little twisted with the cheeky demon being around.

The number of demons in Jaydon’s apartment grows, with Eluin’s big brother Eluel and his wayward lover Sam showing up. The couple is at a breaking point in their own on/off relationship and this time getting back together seems as probable as hell freezing over.

Excerpt

Midnight Twist
Rian Durant © 2018
All Rights Reserved

It all started with an espresso machine, even though I’d seen him drinking espresso only once in all the time we knew each other. Then he complained for three days that he hadn’t tasted such swill in his whole life. The fact that I’d made it for him with all my love didn’t cause him to show an ounce of tact.

I felt in my gut it was a tremendous mistake to enter the mall, but even if I’d tried to avoid it, I doubt he would’ve taken my opinion into account. He would’ve thrown a temper tantrum of magnificent proportions, which wasn’t a pretty sight. I’d been a witness and a victim of such antics once, only it was in front of a restaurant, which I hadn’t dared come close to ever since.

The glowing look in his eyes while we passed by the shop windows made my heart sink, because I couldn’t afford most of the things he stared at, especially with the plans we had for the rest of the week. My lovely boyfriend possessed a seductive appearance and a good heart, but his perceptions were terribly distorted due to eighteen years of systematic spoiling at the hands of his parents. He used to reassure me this wasn’t going to come between us since he was madly in love with me, but he couldn’t be further from the truth. After the ironic remarks I had been subjected to in the past few weeks, I knew I wasn’t going to get away with it.

I didn’t want to lose him, but it was clear that if I didn’t overcome my financial issues, his love for me would vanish into thin air together with his rebellious spirit, and he’d settle with any of the “appropriate partners” his parents tried to match him with. Once, one of his father’s business tycoon friends with his three hot lovers landed in front of my door and pounced on me, obviously not familiar with the appearance of his intended chosen one. I led a fierce battle using all means possible, which ended up being the shoehorn lying next to the shoes at the front door, in order to preserve my honor. Things deteriorated when Lyte came out of the bathroom in his short, sexy bathrobe to check why I was wreaking such havoc. We had to barricade the door and listen to a serenade for more than an hour before the police came to take them away.

I turned to Lyte with a smile, intending to remind him of that time the tycoon came calling, but when I caught his hand, he didn’t react at all. He had already seen it. He gazed at the window with an oblivious smile, and then raised his finger and pointed at it. A second later he issued a brief statement with a determination I’d rarely heard in the voice of another human being.

“I want it!”

At first, I couldn’t understand what the item in question was, wavering between a weird CD player, a hat rack, or Darth Vader’s helmet. But when the price tag next to it caught my attention, I shivered.

“You want an espresso machine? What do you need it for, sweetheart?”

“It will look great in the kitchen, don’t you think? The color scheme is the same, and besides, it’s so fancy with all these buttons!” He clapped. “You are going to buy it for me, love, won’t you?”

“But you don’t even drink coffee, sweetie.”

“It doesn’t matter. I can make tea in it. I mean, I’m sure it has such a function.”

I was positive it had a TV-watching function at least, judging by the price, which caused me severe trauma. I tried to sound as gentle and as reasonable as I could.

“We can’t buy it now, dear.”

His amazing blue eyes shot a quick malicious look at me, and he pouted. “So it wasn’t enough for you to turn me into a housewife, was it? Now you refuse to buy me this little sweet espresso machine. Did I understand you correctly?”

I didn’t know why he was always harping on it, given that there wasn’t an ounce of truth in his accusation, unless lying on the sofa with the remote control all day long was termed housekeeping these days. If it wasn’t for me, we would’ve both been dead by now because of the weird things he tried to cook a few times right after he’d moved in with me. I hardly let him do anything around the house, as I preferred to leave him enough free time to study. Week in, week out, he’d go to class to sit for some exams. There was a time when I suspected he was taking them in another way, not fit for a mixed audience, but he finally succeeded in persuading me in the opposite by quoting the declaration of human rights by heart.

I looked at him with regret and repeated to myself he wasn’t guilty in the least. His parents had driven him to this state of mind. I tried to hug him, which, naturally, I was denied.

“Are you really going to be mad at me over some stupid espresso machine?”

“It is not stupid!” he snapped. “You are stupid.”

I laughed, hoping he was joking like he sometimes did, but this time it was different. I suppose this was the proverbial last drop, so when we got home, he locked himself in his room without giving any explanation. After about an hour, he came out dragging his big red suitcase behind him.

“Eh? Sweetie pie…”

He hissed in my face like a kitten deprived of its food, with an expression showing me that if I breathed a word, anything I said would be used against me as he stomped past me, out the front door, slamming it behind him. Apparently, he’d realized there were two alternatives to obtaining his beloved espresso machine. One was to go back to his family, and after an enlightening reprimand on how he shouldn’t choose penniless partners like me, they would give it to him as a present. The other was to use his infinite charm and extort some other idiot with enough money into buying it for him.

I could get a credit card and buy the accursed gadget, but his leaving was a mixed blessing. I might’ve gotten him back, but next week he could decide he couldn’t live without some other splendid invention of modern science, and I couldn’t count on giving in and buying him every single thing he set his heart on.

Part of me wanted him back, but another part insisted that walking away was the best thing he’d ever done for me. We’d had great moments together, especially in the beginning, but to be honest, I’d wondered whether it wasn’t better we called it a day. Exhausted by all the thoughts swarming inside my head, I went to bed. The most difficult part was sleeping alone under the cold sheets after having someone to cuddle with for such a long time.

Purchase

NineStar Press | Amazon | Smashwords | Barnes & Noble | Kobo

Meet the Author

Rian is one of those who are both blessed and cursed by the insatiable desire to write. Short stories, sometimes longer stories and yeah, primarily M/M (you can insert more Ms if you like) romance stories.

Always having a plot in mind sometimes proves being hard when having a day time job but Rian manages them both for the time being, assisted by the
priceless support of her soul mate, large amounts of coffee and pure obstinacy.

What makes Rian smile is a sunny day, a beautiful flower, a piece of chocolate, a nice song, a good book and anything that could be the reason for that spark in the eyes, accompanied by the exclamation: “Oh my, I just saw something!”

Website | Facebook | Twitter | Instagram | Pinterest

Giveaway

a Rafflecopter giveaway

demons, Fantasy, Humor, LGBT
Leave comment

Mar 26

Release Blitz: Lunav by Jenn Polish (Excerpt & Giveaway)

Filed under Book Blitz, Giveaways

Title: Lunav

Author: Jenn Polish

Publisher: NineStar Press

Release Date: March 26, 2018

Heat Level: 1 – No Sex

Pairing: Female/Female

Length: 89600

Genre: Fantasy, LGBT, fantasy, YA, dragons, Fae

Add to Goodreads

Synopsis

They don’t have dragons where half-faerie Sadie was born—not living ones, anyway—but in the Grove, everyone knows dragon eggs grow on trees like leaves and need Dreams to hatch. Without faerie Dreams, the dragons won’t survive. And neither will anyone else.

Brash, boyish sixteen-year-old Sadie uses her half-human status to spy on the human monarchy, who’ve made it illegal to Dream. But spying is a risky business. Still, Sadie thought she was a pro until they sent a new human magistrate to the Grove. Evelyn.

Evelyn might be the most beautiful girl Sadie’s ever seen, and Sadie might be betraying her family by falling in love with the ruthless leader who locks them up. But that’s not even the biggest obstacle between the two: Evelyn is leading the charge against Dreaming, and there’s something she doesn’t know. Sadie can still Dream.

Excerpt

LUNAV
Jenn Polish © 2018
All Rights Reserved

Chapter One
The night hangs over us, in us, and I shiver a little in the cold. Even in the safety of my disguise, I swallow loudly. Lerian shoots me a look, pawing snow away from the packed dirt of the Tread with her front hoof. We both stare at the ground ahead of us, our ears straining for the signal that will indicate that we can proceed with our plan. We only have until the moon starts setting to infiltrate and sabotage the monarchy’s weapons shipment. A small thumping ahead of us, in the clearing where the caravan has curled in on itself, gives us the sign we’re waiting for.

“No need to hang back anymore, you two,” Osley tells us through the beating of quer paws. “Sadie, the freeze spell worked. Come see.”

Lerian meets my eyes before I reach down to receive permission from the grass for us to move forward. Her hooves and my feet barely make a sound as we slip across the thick layer of snow past the first wagon and the first pair of magically frozen guards. I pause to pat one lightly on the shoulder. He won’t wake—not as long as my growns are holding their freeze spell on the encampment—but in this weather, the small dribble of drool on his chin will be stuck to his face when we’re done here.

Osley stamps quer feet impatiently, quer long rabbit ears twitching with irritation, as Lerian bends way down to move the other guard’s temporarily stiff fingers into a position that would for sure offend Mom.

“Do I seriously look like them?” I whisper.

“Yep. Spitting image. With your wings tucked away, Sadie, you look exactly like a non.” I arch an eyebrow at the way she so casually refers to humans as nons: non-faeries, non-centaurs. Non-Grovian. Not like us. Except, I kind of am like nons, too. Ler pauses to consider me, running her fingers through her reddish hair. “Except probably you’re uglier.”

I roll my eyes and suppress a grin, not bothering to remind her that the front half of centaurs’ bodies pretty much look like nons too.

Osley’s thumps grow more insistent. “Sadie, we’re on a mission. Get Lerian over here.”

“All right, all right, we’re coming.”

I give Lerian a sharp tug, and we follow Osley as que leaps toward the heart of the coiled wagons. The air itself is crystallized with particles of dirt and flakes of snow, all hanging suspended around us, like bubbles floating in the ocean. There’s a fire pit in the middle of the encampment, but it, too, is still, with flames frozen in midcaress of the tree flesh it consumes, still midspark, midcrackle. The closer we get, the harder it is to breathe. The freeze spell has the Energies so deeply entangled it feels like walking through nectar. I limp even deeper than I usually do when I’m forced to walk.

A sharp smack from behind the fire pit makes our cautious steps turn into an awkward run and a graceful gallop. We round a bend in the encampment’s wagons to see Mom and Mama, hovering over two chained faeriesand their frozen non guards.

The faerie prisoners look like they’re from the Samp, a marshy province a few days’ journey from the Forest. The Sampians don’t look much older than Lerian and me. They’re nears, like us, but their wings are hidden away inside metal clamps, their necks connected by a piercing necklace. Their ankles and wrists, too, are chained together, and they’ve been propped up back to back, to sleep outside on the snow while most of the guards are around the fire or tucked into the relative warmth of their wagons.

One of the Sampians is flailing around, the chains from his wrists and ankles tugging on his fellow prisoner, threatening to both topple her over and whip her with their force. Mama’s webbed hand is on her cheek. She looks like she’s just gotten smacked—with flesh or metal, I can’t tell. My stomach is as shaky as my bare fingers.

One of the prisoners is reaching out to Mama, apologizing for her partner-in-chains, crying softly, explaining that he can’t help it, that it’s not his fault.

Mama dodges another blow. Both of his eyelids are closed, relaxed, but his body is the opposite. Mom is trying to calm him, like she tries to calm me when I…My heart threatens to fall out of my throat. He’s sleeping, yet he’s moving about in his chains like…

I step closer, in a daze, my attention on nothing but the Sampian boy. His wings are in those clamps, so he can’t move them except by thrashing his entire back around. To compensate, he’s flapping his golden brown arms about, as much as his chains will let him, just like a sparrow does when she’s taking flight. Soon enough, the motion of his arms evens out, like they’re catching the wind underneath them, rising…

I don’t realize I’ve stopped breathing until all my breath bursts out of me in one massive, cloudy white exhale, staying in the freeze spell instead of dissipating like it normally would. I step through the cloud so my attention doesn’t have to leave the sight in front of me. My mouth is desert dry.

The imprisoned Sampian can Dream. Like me.

No wonder he’s in chains.

Without even turning around, Mom calls back to me, “Sadie, don’t.” Don’t act as if I’ve just found my kin. Don’t act as if I’ve just seen, for the first time since I was a young one, another near, a nearly grown person, who sleeps as I do. Who hasn’t been Sliced.

I grind my teeth at the thoughts of Slicings—when they cut into the skull of newly born faeries, nons, and centaurs, and inject dragon blood into our brains. Sometimes, it kills us right then and there from so-called complications. Always, it stops us from ever Dreaming. From ever forming the connections we need to with our hatchling trees and dragons. From ever connecting with any of the lives across Lunav beyond our own.

I clear my throat and bend over to help Mama twist the Energies, already so stiff around us from the freeze spell, to unlock the chains around the Sampian who’s awake. When she notices me, she jolts back like she’s been burned, her thin golden eyes wide with terror.

Mama grimaces and holds up her own hands, showing the Sampian girl the webbing between her fingers, the way she flies horizontally with her stomach facing the ground, instead of upright, like Grovians.

“Look, it’s all right. I’m Sampian too. This is my daughter. She’s Grovian. Her wings are hidden under her cloak,” she says in Sampian faeric. The girl continues to stare at me. I look away. Lerian, shuffling behind us awkwardly, doesn’t even scoff. For once.

Osley hops between the girl and me, thumping out a message urgently. “Mara, these are the people I told you about on the Tread this sunup. These are the people the Grove has sent to help you sabotage the weapons shipment. To help you escape. It’ll be all right.”

The girl—Mara—sighs and glances toward her companion. Mom’s started to rouse him from his sleep, from his Dream. I wouldn’t wish a bad Dream on anyone, but I hope it wasn’t a great Dream, either. Waking from those is never exactly fun. Then again, it seems he was Dreaming some sort of bird, so compared to his chains… I look away and focus on Mara.

“Blame my moms. They made me tuck my wings away tonight so in case we got caught, I could pass as a non and maybe escape. I don’t usually look this—” I glance over my shoulder at Lerian and grin. “—ugly.”

Mara just bites the inside of her cheek. She turns to the boy and touches her webbed hands to the back of his neck, right above the chained collar. He jerks awake, eyes wide and pained. His breathing is ragged and shallow, and when his wild brown eyes find mine, he almost lets out a scream. Mama puts a gentle but urgent hand over his mouth.

“I’m sorry, so sorry, but you’re safe, and so is your secret. This is my daughter; she’s a faerie. We’re resistance, and we’re here to help.” He twists his neck and finds Mara’s eyes. She nods in the Sampian way, tilting her head all the way down to her right shoulder, confirming my mom’s words. He closes his eyes again, and even though I don’t know him, I can still tell what he’s doing. He’s willing himself back into the life of that bird. Willing himself to Dream again. But it won’t come back. They never do on command. Dreams only come when we’re in our deepest rest, when our Energies are most primed to be utterly synced with someone else, someone awake. After a moment, the boy sighs and opens his eyes again.

“You’re here to help us sabotage the weapons, right?” He turns his gaze down to Osley. Que shakes quer hind legs at him in confirmation, and Mom and Mama set about twisting the Energies to ease Mara and the boy out of the rest of their chains. They clank to the ground and force soft tufts of freshly fallen snow up into the air. The clumps of white just hang there, suspended.

“H-how’s it doing that?” the boy asks as he rubs his wrists, his neck, and sweeps his wings up eagerly, stretching them and sighing in relief.

“You never heard of a freeze spell?” Lerian asks as she tugs him to his feet, the boy’s thick sunset-red wings still crumpled from the clamps.

He stares around at the still guards blankly expanding the gill flaps on his neck. “Wish we could do ourselves a freeze spell,” he mutters to Mara. “How long will it last?”

Mom hovers in closer, seeming relieved that we can get started and do what we came here to do. “Long enough. But we’re gonna have to get going. Can you conjure any magic?”

“We can’t do anything like that freeze thing you did, but we can put some impurities into these weapons for sure,” Mara says before grabbing the boy and pulling him in for a deep, hands-everywhere kiss.

I don’t know whether to laugh or cry, so I study my feet intently. Lerian bends down to pack some snow into her fist, and Osley’s long ears press down into quer gray-speckled white fur. Mom bows her head, touches her forehead to Mama’s, and flies off toward one of the transport wagons, letting out a deep whistle into the disturbed Energies. That’ll be the signal for the others surrounding the enclosure to come and help her sabotage her chosen wagon, full of palace weapons.

Mama gestures for the rest of us to accompany her into another wagon. She peeks inside its Izlanian buffalo-skin covering before nodding at us—no nons are sleeping in this wagon. It’s just for weapons. Perfect.

I wiggle my fingers, preparing them to twist the already tensed Energies, which will work imperfections into the weapons they’re shipping to the Samp. My stomach churns as the buffalo skin brushes my shoulders when we crowd into the wagon, swords and arrows and axes scattered around in skin bags, hanging from the skin walls. I catch eyes with the Sampian boy, who’s slipped into the wagon behind me, still flexing his wings like he can’t quite believe they’re free of their clamps. I wonder if he’s ever Dreamed an Izlanian buffalo.

I have.

I look away quickly so he won’t see the question in my eyes. I know his secret. That doesn’t mean he has to know mine.

“Know what to do, all?” Mama asks as she tenses her arms, conjuring a fire out of the freeze. It hovers in midair in front of her. Ler and I nod, and Os stamps quer feet on the dead tree floor. The Sampian boy just tilts his head and grabs a sword off the skin wall. He sticks it into the fire, warming it so we can magick invisible impurities into it.

I follow suit, tossing arrows from their quivers onto the floor for Osley. Que starts chewing away, making slight adjustments in the arrows that will make them snap under tension, downing them on release from their bows. A genius at this sort of thing, que is. Quer black eyes are steely as que works. I wonder if que’s thinking of the non hunters who shot quer family with arrows like these.

“So name what yours is?” Lerian asks my fellow Dreamer in terrible Sampian faeric. She never was great at language learning pods.

“Leece,” he tells us quietly. Lerian puts her forehead to Mama’s before grabbing two swords at a time from the racks on the skin walls. I yank at the Energies to make a fire of my own, and Leece sticks a metal axe into it. We work in silence except for the crackling of the floating fires and the steady clicking of Osley’s teeth on wooden arrows.

“So,” Leece starts after a while, his attention carefully fixed on the axes he’s holding, now one in each hand. They’re glowing as red as his wings, and I’m sweating with the effort of pulling the Energies to magick impurities into the slightly melted parts. They’ll still look sharp, but they’ll be blunt and brittle in a battle. Or another massacre.

“You’re half non, huh?”

I nod in the Sampian way, not taking my focus off the axes or the swirls of purple and blue haze flowing from my fingertips into the reddened metal. Lerian nudges me, gesturing for me to pass her another sword. I grab one off the rack next to me.

“Ever gotten with a non with your wings tucked away like that?” he asks.

I drop the sword. Lerian swears and reaches for it, but Mama stills it magically, yanking the Energies hard enough so the blade stops just above my thigh.

“Thanks,” I breathe in relief, picking it up and passing it to Lerian. I look up at Leece, and the ghost of a playful grin is on his thin lips. I glance down at Osley with an arched eyebrow. Lerian’s glowering at the Sampian boy, but Osley contents querself with a twitch of quer ears.

“If by ‘gotten with’ you mean gotten information out of them for the resistance, yeah. The one good thing my non looks have done for me,” I tell him.

Mama smirks.

I change the subject. “So are you and Mara…a thing?”

Purchase

NineStar Press | Amazon | Smashwords | Barnes & Noble | Kobo

Meet the Author

Jenn Polish is the author of two young adult books, Lunav and Lost Boy, Found Boy. Their debut novella, Lost Boy, Found Boy, is a scifi re-telling of Peter Pan in which Neverland is a holomatrix, Hook is a bisexual cyborg, and Tink is an asexual lesbian computer interface. Their debut novel, Lunav, a lesbian faerie tale, features dragons that grow on trees and friendship amongst rebellion. They teach Theater and English in the CUNY system, where they are also a doctoral candidate in English. They live in New York with their fiancée and their fantasies of having multiple puppies.

Website | Twitter | Instagram

Giveaway

a Rafflecopter giveaway

Dragons, fae, Fantasy, LGBT, YA
Leave comment

Mar 26

Release Blitz: The Power of Love by Sydney Blackburn, Lina Langley (Excerpt & Giveaway)

Filed under Book Blitz, Giveaways

Title: The Power of Love

Author: Sydney Blackburn, Lina Langley

Publisher: NineStar Press

Release Date: March 26, 2018

Heat Level: 3 – Some Sex

Pairing: Male/Male

Length: 88300

Genre: Science Fiction, LGBT, superheroes, action, romance, science fiction

Add to Goodreads

Synopsis

The #1 rule of superhero training camp is you don’t talk about superhero training camp.

Or your parents.

Or their powers, which is the only thing saving Vince’s life—he’s the son of a notorious supervillain. But the secret could become a deadly deception when he falls into a super-powered entanglement with gorgeously heroic cabinmate Locke.

When their instructor disappears, Vince’s father may be to blame. Torn between loyalties, Vince’s greatest fear is that his father’s taint will corrupt him and poison his heart against Locke.

Vince might be doomed to follow in his father’s footsteps, but he hopes love can beat genetics.

Excerpt

The Power of Love
Lina Langley and Sydney Blackburn © 2018
All Rights Reserved

Chapter One
Vincent Silva breathed a sigh of relief when he saw his grade posted on the bulletin board. He’d already passed the entrance exams to be at Camp Hologram, but the on-site test was vital.

He didn’t recognize the names of the three other guys in Cabin One, but he never expected he would. Kids with power-gifted parents were raised to protect their identities, for everyone’s safety. He didn’t want anyone to know who his father and stepmother were. Especially his stepmother, though he hated to use that word. It went the other way as well—he used his mother’s maiden name on his application so his father and alleged stepmother wouldn’t know he was at the camp.

A sharp lack of noise brought his attention to a classroom that reminded him too much of high school—being lectured by Mister Mister, who used to be somebody. His power was mimicry—for a few hours he could have the power of any gifted person he touched. Five years ago, he’d run afoul of the villain Chameleon. Vince wasn’t sure exactly what had happened—the media reported only that somehow his stepmother had managed to defeat Mister Mister, after which he’d retired from active duty.

The resemblance to high school ended with Mister Mister, who didn’t look anything like a teacher. For a start, his gray hair, still thick and wavy, was shoulder length, and he wore an olive drab T-shirt the same color as his canvas pants. He had tattoos down his arms and over the backs of his hands. He was also more physically fit than any of Vince’s high school teachers had ever been.

“Welcome to Camp Hologram, gentlemen. You wouldn’t be here if you hadn’t mastered a general control over your powers, so the focus of your training will be learning independence and teamwork. How to maximize your strengths, minimize your weaknesses. How to survive without any powers at all.

“It takes strength of will, and discipline….”

Vince tuned out the boring “why you’re all here” speech. He knew why he was there. He was born with powers and a determination to never be the kind of person his father was. Being the son of a villain didn’t mean that was his only choice.

“Weekend leave is in the city of Guilford, but don’t get too excited. There’s a volunteer element to your grades. I believe most of you have ignored the pamphlet of rules you received before arriving so let me reiterate: booze, drugs, and gambling are not permitted here at Camp Hologram. Lights out is at 10:00 p.m. Reveille is at 5:00 a.m. sharp. You are expected to make up your bunks and keep your gear in your lockers. This afternoon you’re to stow your gear and get to know your cabin mates. When you hear the klaxon, get to the mess hall or go hungry. Now grab your packs and go to your assigned cabin.”

Finally! Vince leaned down to grab his duffle, a heavy canvas bag almost as long as he was tall and stuffed with everything he owned. Whatever he did at Camp Hologram, fail or graduate qualified to be an official hero, he wasn’t going back home. Guilt made him flinch as he thought of his mother. She deserved a chance to make a life without his father screwing it up, and that meant a place with immaculate security. The kind only money could buy. Money popular heroes earned through sponsorships and licensing fees.

The first step was to ace his training.

He listened to the other guys grumble as they shuffled out, most of them with much less luggage.

“This is so lame,” someone said.

“Piece of cake,” someone else said.

Vince didn’t say anything. He followed the others out of the administration building. It was a large complex, holding the showers, the shitters, the kitchen, and the dining hall, along with the lecture room and who knew what else. Stuff the trainees didn’t need to know. Might be in the paperwork Mister Mister rightly guessed he hadn’t read.

Purchase

NineStar Press | Amazon | Smashwords | Barnes & Noble | Kobo

Meet the Author

Lina
L. M. Langley has a postgraduate degree from Newcastle University in Creative Writing and a B.A (Hons) in English Literature and Creative Writing from Northumbria University.

She grew up in Colombia and currently lives in Gainesville, FL with her husband.

Sydney
Sydney Blackburn is a binary star system. Always a voracious reader, she began to write when she couldn’t find the stories she wanted to read. She likes candlelit dinners and long walks on the beach… Oh wait, wrong profile. She’s a snarky introvert and admits to having a past full of casual sex and dubious hookups, which she uses for her stories.

She likes word play and puns and science-y things. And green curry.

Her dislikes include talking on the phone, people trying to talk to her before she’s had coffee, and filling out the “about me” fields in social media.

Besides writing, she also designs book covers for poor people.

Website | Facebook | Twitter

Giveaway

a Rafflecopter giveaway

Action, LGBT, Romance, Science Fiction, superheroes
Leave comment

Mar 26

Release Blitz: Souls for Sale by Asta Idonea (Excerpt & Giveaway)

Filed under Book Blitz, Giveaways

Title: Souls for Sale

Author: Asta Idonea

Publisher: NineStar Press

Release Date: March 26, 2018

Heat Level: 3 – Some Sex

Pairing: Male/Male

Length: 51600

Genre: Paranormal, LGBT, humor, demons, angels, nerds-geeks, artists, hell

Add to Goodreads

Synopsis

When demon Saul persuades comic book artist Tom to sign over his soul in exchange for a night of passion, little does he know what lies in store. Demons can’t fall in love—or so he’s been told—but he finds himself smitten and attempts to destroy the contract, desperate to save Tom from an eternity of torture.

With Saul and Tom forced to run, a showdown between Heaven and Hell ensues as the angels and demons argue over who owns Tom’s soul. But does either party have a stronger claim than Saul?

Excerpt

Souls for Sale
Asta Idonea © 2018
All Rights Reserved

Prologue
Saul

It’s tough being a demon in this day and age. Times are hard and souls just aren’t what they used to be. I should know; it’s my job to collect them. Or try to, anyway. What I wouldn’t give to go back to the good ol’ days when you could buy a soul as easily as an apple at the marketplace. And I mean a proper apple, plucked straight from the tree that morning. None of this modified, refrigerated crap that passes as fresh fruit nowadays.

I know what you’re thinking. Trust me; I’ve heard it all before. You’re wondering how it could be so hard to get someone to sign away their soul in an age when everything can be obtained for a price, when everything is for sale. Actors, bankers, politicians. You’d think rich pickings; am I right? Well, you’d be wrong.

Problem is that no one believes anymore. Picture this: I walk up to someone and offer to grant them anything their heart desires in exchange for their soul. Now, in times past they’d either tremble in fear and drop to their knees, praying to the guy upstairs (my cue to leave), or they’d tremble in fear for a moment and then sign on the dotted line. Simple. Everyone knew where they stood. But if I were to try that today, most people would laugh in my face and walk off, or else they’d look uneasy and slink away from the ‘deranged lunatic’ as soon as possible. Hell, I miss the fear.

The faith is gone, you see, supplanted with technology, gizmos, and gadgets. An age of information. Everything you want, obtainable at the press of a button. What is there to long for anymore? What is there worth selling your soul for that you couldn’t get another way? Sure, you still have the old standards, the favourites—riches, power, and sex—but as I said, the belief is sadly lacking.

Every passing year it gets harder and harder to fill my quota. I have the boss breathing fire down my neck—both metaphorically and literally—and damned if I know how to get around the problem. It’s not just me. My colleagues are equally exasperated. It won’t be too much longer until it’s impossible to sign up even one new soul to burn in everlasting Hell. Then what’s a conscientious, hard-working demon to do?

Anyhow, I guess it’s about time I introduced myself. The name’s Saul. Yeah, I know, but it’s not like I picked it. We get what the boss dishes out, and I drew the short straw that day. Guess he was in one of his funny moods. I’m here today following a mark. I’m actually pretty stoked I found this guy, as he’s shaping up to be the most promising potential soul-seller I’ve seen in several months. Hey, try saying that three times fast! The trick now is not to rush things, not to push him too hard or too fast.

Oh, here he comes. See if you can pick him from the crowd. No? Hard, isn’t it? Everyone looks the same these days. It used to be so much easier to tell a sinner from a saint. Now the line is so blurred it barely exists at all.

But I digress. Just wait a moment… There! See the guy heading into the pub? The one in the Marvel T-shirt? With the blond curls? That’s our man. Bit of a stereotype of a comic-book nerd, isn’t he? Unlikely to sell his soul, you think? Well, we’ll soon see.

Purchase

NineStar Press | Amazon | Smashwords | Barnes & Noble | Kobo

Meet the Author

Asta Idonea (aka Nicki J Markus) was born in England but now lives in Adelaide, South Australia. She has loved both reading and writing from a young age and is also a keen linguist, having studied several foreign languages.

Asta launched her writing career in 2011 and divides her efforts not only between MM and mainstream works but also between traditional and indie publishing. Her works span the genres, from paranormal to historical and from contemporary to fantasy. It just depends what story and which characters spring into her mind!

As a day job, Asta works as a freelance editor and proofreader, and in her spare time she enjoys music, theater, cinema, photography, and sketching. She also loves history, folklore and mythology, pen-palling, and travel, all of which have provided plenty of inspiration for her writing. She is never found too far from her much-loved library/music room.

Facebook | Twitter

Giveaway

a Rafflecopter giveaway

Angels, artists, demons, hell, Humor, LGBT, nerds-geeks
Leave comment

Mar 26

Release Blitz: The Luxorian Fugitive by J. Alan Veerkamp (Excerpt & Giveaway)

Filed under Book Blitz, Giveaways

Title: The Luxorian Fugitive

Series: Centauri Survivors Second Chance Chronicles, Book One

Author: J. Alan Veerkamp

Publisher: NineStar Press

Release Date: March 26, 2018

Heat Level: 3 – Some Sex

Pairing: Male/Male

Length: 76500

Genre: Science Fiction, LGBT, Sci-fi, gay, space, military, BDSM

Add to Goodreads

Synopsis

Trying to escape his tortured past, Sergeant Liam Jacks travels aboard the transport vessel, the Santa Claus, as the security chief alongside his best friend and captain, Marc Danverse. Having survived the Civil War, they shuttle amongst the Proxima Centauri planetary cluster, trying to find some modicum of peace. Something of which Liam is in short supply.

During a stopover on the planet Luxoria, they take on a mysterious passenger. Hadrian Jamison’s history is questionable and his effect on Liam is undeniable. The more they learn, the more questions they have. As they are drawn together, Hadrian’s presence threatens to disrupt the quiet.

When Hadrian’s past catches up to claim him, the ensuing conflict is more than any of them expected.

Excerpt

Chapter One
“Have you found him yet?”

“We’re looking…”

“Hurry! We don’t have much time!”

“Scanner picked up the target in the crowd.”

“I have him in my sights.”

“Sergeant, terminate with extreme prejudice!”

“I…I can’t. You can’t ask me…”

“Take the shot! That’s an order!”

“Captain, you can’t be serious.”

“Pull the trigger, damn it, or we all die!”

“Oh God, forgive me…”

Cold sweat rolled off Liam’s body as he sat upright in bed, sheets tangled around his legs. His deafening pulse drowned out the soft whir of the environmental systems and the mechanical hum of the ship’s movement. There was a hollow quality to the titanium hull of his private quarters that seemed to amplify the resonance of the dream.

“Pull it together, Marine. You’re not a child.” The horror refused to recede even now that he was awake.

Liam looked around his room as his reality began to settle. The windowless space was nearly pitch-black; the only illumination came from the data screen on the wall, its soft cyber-green time code proof that he was not lost in the abyss. Yes, he was aboard the cargo vessel the Santa Claus. Yes, they were en route to Luxoria from Alpha Centauri Prime for a supply delivery and pickup. Yes, he was the security chief of the thirty or so men employed on the ship. Yes, the dream was of a harsh memory, but still just a dream.

“Mrs. Claus. Status report please.” Liam spoke in quiet, shaken tones while threading his unsteady hands through his hair. A synthetic voice, sounding like a middle-aged woman, hummed back in response.

“It is zero three seventeen, Sergeant Jacks. We will be docking at Luxoria Spaceport Alpha at approximately eleven fifteen. System sync to the Luxorian environment is in progress and will be complete in two hours and twenty-five minutes. Is there anything else I can do for you?”

“No.” His reply was brusque, but Mrs. Claus’s feelings couldn’t be hurt; she was artificial, after all. Normally, Liam found Captain Danverse’s penchant for ancient Earth history—including the ship’s name and the computer’s voice identity—endearing. Marc was his best friend, after all. But that night, there was no comfort in it.

Even without the nightmares, it was hard to sleep well when forced to acclimate to a new planet’s environment and timeline every time you came into port. The ship’s systems were designed to gradually shift the sleep cycles of everyone on board to match up to the active hours for each destination. Add the dreams into the equation, and his rest was as fractured as his self-esteem.

“Lights. Low.” Twin light panels on opposite sides of the small room began to glow. The undecorated metal walls were nothing more than panels hiding the storage spaces within. The large bed looked out of place in the three-by-four-meter space but at his size was required for any chance of a comfortable night’s sleep. Not that he’d seen many of those in a long time. A lone desk sat in the corner with a basic chair on wheels covered in dirty clothes. Several recessed shelves held stacks of paperwork, but the entire room was devoid of anything personal.

Liam peeled himself from the dampened sheets, the fabric refusing to release due to the tackiness of his salty skin. He knew he couldn’t sleep anymore, even if the bed weren’t already cooling and saturated. The ship ran warm, but he couldn’t suppress a slight shiver as the air hit his bare body. Even the dense pelt of hair that covered his chest, arms, and legs provided little warmth at the moment. He slid into a pair of cargo shorts and sleeveless shirt that were piled in the corner, too shaken to care if they were clean enough to wear. A pair of thick-soled sandals waited for him in front of the room’s exit. Out of habit, he picked up his communicator from the random pile on the desk and put it in his ear.

He placed his hand on the plexiglass palm reader embedded in the hull and the door slid open with a loud hiss. From the outside, he slapped the matching panel to close the door and trudged out into the hallway.

His footsteps gave a soft metal echo as he wandered in no particular direction through the dimly lit tunnel. This was no luxury liner; a subtle vibration could be felt at all times from the tech and mechanicals hidden behind the scuffed and weathered walls. The Santa Claus was sturdy, but not designed for creature comforts. Captain Danverse had purchased the decommissioned cargo ship nearly a decade ago and offered Liam a job when the pair had left the military following the Centauri Prime civil war.

Intelligently, Danverse had populated the Santa Claus with a crew of men who could stand the long distance between stops and appreciate the company of their fellow men. Ports were few and far between, and it was a small world to live in for an extended span.

The planetary cluster of Alpha Centauri’s binary star hosted an unparalleled fifteen or more planets that were capable of sustaining life, but travel between them could take weeks or months, depending on the quality of the ship engines. Faster-than-light capability was restricted to military-class vehicles. Subspace Link kept the information systems of every planet connected, and a space station-sized hub kept the entire cluster in range and part of a vast system of cultures and technologies. The current run to Luxoria had taken weeks, and they would only be docked for one twenty-four-hour cycle to load and refuel before making a return trip to Centauri Prime.

Danverse had chosen this way of life because, after the civil war, he had lost interest in planetary life, with its conflicting politics and the reminders of all the wasted lives. Liam had similar incentives to live off planet, bearing the invisible scars of a wartime job well done. He lived on the transport ship in an attempt to bury the memories, but the dreams always returned to reignite the guilt in his breast.

And he was remembering it oh so acutely at this late hour.

Liam knew the blueprint of the Santa Claus like it was imprinted in his brain, but that night, he wandered without recognizing what deck he was on or what passageway he was in. A strange sadness filled him, weighing him down as the confusion thickened. He knew he had ridden a lift and walked down several corridors, but he was damned if he was aware of where he was as he rounded a corner.

“Boss? You look like shit.” Mac knelt in front of an open access panel, various tools around his feet and hanging from his utility belt.

“Mac? What are you doing up?” Liam straightened to hide his fragile frame of mind. Even now, his military training was too ingrained to stop maintaining the illusion of rank.

Mac was a rugged, dark-haired man with a sturdy body under the dirty coveralls he wore as the ship’s head tech mechanic. Short and thick, with rounded muscles, Mac was smaller and less defined than Liam, but no less powerful. Dark hair covered his forearms and could be seen on his chest through where his zipper lay open. His youthful complexion was stained with machine oil and other occupational hazards—and too many hours on the job. Mac was the youngest man on the crew but made up for it in his diligence to his profession.

“Look who’s talking. I’m giving the systems a few checkups and prepping the environments on Beta deck. We’re going to have a couple guests taking the cruise.”

“Why don’t you let Mrs. Claus run the diagnostics and environmental presets and get some sleep?”

“First, I didn’t get this good by letting the tech take care of itself. Second, I don’t live on this boat because I trust anything to do my job, boss. That’s kind of the same thing, but that’s beside the point. Synthetic or not, if she strokes out on us, I’ll be the one who gets blamed when we all start screaming ‘Oh God, oh God, we’re all going to die.’”

Usually Mac’s crass sense of humor was infectious, but Liam was having difficulty holding himself together. A tremor was building, making it hard to stand still. Mac’s brow flattened, and his scrutiny only made Liam’s nerves worse. He could imagine the calculations going on in the tech’s mind; he couldn’t hide how disturbed he was. Mac couldn’t know the cause, but he had to see the damage as Liam’s facade started to erode.

“You okay, boss?” Mac’s genuine concern was clear. Still, Liam was not about to share his past.

“I’m fine.” He shifted his feet as he searched for a polite excuse to step away. The rising awkwardness only amplified his tension and made him pause when the ideas wouldn’t form.

“The gym’s always open. I bet no one else is up.” Mac picked up a small tool and began making adjustments to the open logic boards.

“Thanks, Mac. That’s not a bad idea.” Liam was relieved Mac let the matter drop. “Don’t take too long with that. We need you during the docking.”

“Don’t worry. I’m almost done. Besides, I only sleep about four hours a cycle anyway. My brain rarely shuts down enough. Too much nervous energy, I guess.”

“Sounds like you could use a workout, too.”

“How do you think I get the four hours in the first place?” Mac nodded down the hall. “Go on, boss. I have to get this finished, and you’re distracting me.”

Liam called out over his shoulder as he turned away. “All right. I’ll see you before we get to port. You do good work, Mac.”

“Go away, boss.”

It took a few moments for Liam to process his location and head toward the gym, a large section of Beta deck housing a sizable exercise room, connected with lockers, lavatories, and an open shower room for the entire crew and possible passengers. Since the Santa Claus was a former military vessel, most quarters did not contain private baths. The communal bathroom for thirty men was maintained in a near-pristine condition. Mac was obsessed with the sanitary and recycling systems working at optimal efficiency.

Liam stepped off the lift and rounded the corner, stopping in front of Captain Danverse’s quarters. Still haunted and fidgeting, he stared at the plaque engraved on the door. He knew he should go to the gym.

Fists tight, he resisted the urge to ring the door com. He should not be there. Not like this. It wasn’t fair to everyone concerned. He spun away, took one step, and stopped.

“Mrs. Claus, is Captain Danverse in his quarters?” He rubbed his weary brow with an unsteady hand.

“Yes, Sergeant. The captain’s status is marked as In and Do Not Disturb. Would you like me to contact him?”

“No, Mrs. Claus.”

He stood unmoving for countless minutes, admonishing himself over and over. The dream had left him so anxious he could feel his skin crawling. Muscles twitched in uncomfortable patterns as he barely held himself still. In the end, desperation and need won out.

Hands shaking, he turned and pressed the door chime. With his gaze to the floor, he waited the endless seconds for the door to be answered, his guilty conscience overwhelming his senses.

Purchase

NineStar Press | Amazon | Smashwords | Barnes & Noble | Kobo

Meet the Author

While spending years more focused on visual arts, J. Alan Veerkamp never let go of his innate passion for storytelling, wanting to write and draw comic books when he grew up. Once he discovered M/M fiction, a whole new world opened filled with possibilities. Why couldn’t you have fantastic and dynamic sexy tales with an M/M cast? He started reading the online tales of authors like, Night Tempest, Rob Colton, and Alicia Nordwell, which only fueled his need to create. Eventually he found GayAuthors.org, and with a little coercive nudge, started sharing his tales with an unexpected level of positive response. The experience and support gave him the courage to cross his fingers and aim for the world of M/M publishing.

Born and raised in Michigan, J. Alan continues to type away, wishing it was practical to use an noisy, old fashioned keyboard that clacks with each strike, if just to annoy his loving partner and spoiled miniature dachshund.

Website | Facebook | Twitter | Instagram

Giveaway

a Rafflecopter giveaway

BDSM, Gay, LGBT, Military, Sci-Fi, space
Leave comment

Mar 23

Book Blitz: Leaning Into the Look by Lane Hayes (Excerpt & Giveaway)

Filed under Book Blitz, Giveaways

Title: Leaning Into the Look

Series: Leaning Into Stories, #6

Author: Lane Hayes

Publisher: Lane Hayes

Release Date: March 23

Heat Level: 4 – Lots of Sex

Pairing: Male/Male

Length: 82000

Genre: Romance, friends to lovers, san francisco, humor, businessmen

Add to Goodreads

Synopsis

Grant Kostas made a career based on his looks before joining his family’s real estate firm. He may not love his job but he’s better at sales than he thought. And when he’s poised to bring in the biggest account of the company’s history, even his father is impressed. Unfortunately, the extra attention highlights Grant’s personal life. His parents accept that he’s gay. They just wish he’d meet a nice Greek man.

Miles Harrison is a fabulous red head going through a rough patch. Between getting dumped by his long-term boyfriend and finding a new place to live in the city, he’s nearing his wits end. He’s not sure why he thought rooming with his boss’s friend was a good idea. Miles has had a crush on Grant for years. However, he knows attractive people aren’t always pretty on the inside. As the two men grapple with external problems, they form an unexpected bond of friendship and trust that feels like the real thing. The only way to know for certain is to let go of fear and lean into the look.

Purchase at Amazon

Excerpt

I stopped short when we reached the other side of the street and then backed him against the brick façade of a bank building and pressed my lips over his. It was a bold move and not one I’d ever tried on any man in public before. But I couldn’t help myself. It felt oddly freeing to share one of the bleaker parts of my past with him. I wanted to thank him somehow but that seemed awkward so I kissed him instead. I held his head and glided my tongue alongside his, loving the moment when he flung his arms over my shoulders and responded with fervor. When we broke for air, I rested my forehead on his and grinned.

“Your ass is pretty spectacular too, Mi.”

He chuckled good-naturedly. “Thanks.”

“No really. I think I’m love with it.” I lowered my hands down his back and squeezed his cheeks as I molded his pelvis to mine.

“That’s kind of romantic. But if you’re thinking about falling in love with me too…don’t.”

I backed up slightly to get a better look at him. “Okay. I won’t.”

“Pinky promise.” He held up his right hand and wiggled his fingers.

“What makes you think you’re so irresistible?” I asked, wrapping my pinky finger around his.

“I’m not and you’ll figure it out sooner or later. But I like you and I want you and…”

“And what you’re really saying is you don’t want to fall for me.” I kept my tone light, hoping a jocular vibe would steer us from turning this into an uncomfortable conversation.

“Maybe.”

“Look, Mi. I’m not—”

“No. Listen. Don’t make this into a big deal. It’s not. We’re going to have a grand adventure. Just me and you. We’ll do incredible things and have amazing conversations and lots of sex. And when it’s time to say good-bye, we won’t ruin it by pretending we were ever in love. What do you say?”

Nothing. I had nothing to say. All I could think was maybe he really was crazy because who said shit like that?

But when I looked past the lighthearted swagger I saw the cracks in his armor. He was scared and battered and raw on the inside. Kind of like me. And somehow I had a feeling it wasn’t an ex-lover that made him so cautious. I only knew he was right. We were a couple of oddballs who unexpectedly found ourselves inhabiting the same circle. Temporarily.

But love? I should have walked away. Or at the very least, laughed at his wild leap. Instead I cocked my head and squinted. “What kind of adventures?”

Miles grinned. A slow-moving, gorgeous upturn of the lips that morphed into something celestial. He literally took my breath away. I hoped the dizziness faded before I gave him a reason to think it was a good thing he’d issued a warning about getting too attached.

“All kinds! We’ll turn this town upside down being one hundred percent ridiculous.”

“Okay…” I gave a half laugh and pushed a stray lock of hair behind his ear. “What do you have in mind? Dancing, parties—”

“No. More like Trivial Pursuit marathons, Netflix binge-watching fests in our Pjs, the compare and contrast game and—”

“The what?”

“Don’t worry. We’ll have fun. You’ll see,” he assured me earnestly as he laced our fingers together and pulled me away from the wall.

I glanced down at our joined hands and briefly thought about joking that he should be careful about giving me mixed signals. But I knew my limits. My comedic timing was crappy and the last thing I wanted was to push him away. I might not love Miles but I liked him. A lot. And holding his hand while we wandered through town under a sea of rainbow flags on a random Sunday felt special. The way new beginnings sometimes did.

Meet the Author

Lane Hayes is grateful to finally be doing what she loves best. Writing full-time! It’s no secret Lane loves a good romance novel. An avid reader from an early age, she has always been drawn to well-told love story with beautifully written characters. These days she prefers the leading roles to both be men. Lane discovered the M/M genre a few years ago and was instantly hooked. Her debut novel was a 2013 Rainbow Award finalist and subsequent books have received Honorable Mentions, and won first prize in the 2016 and 2017 Rainbow Awards. She loves red wine, chocolate and travel (in no particular order). Lane lives in Southern California with her amazing husband in a newly empty nest.

Website | Facebook | Twitter | Goodreads | Amazon

Giveaway

a Rafflecopter giveaway

Mar 19

Release Blitz: Tomboy by Janelle Reston (Excerpt & Giveaway)

Filed under Book Blitz, Giveaways

Title: Tomboy

Author: Janelle Reston

Publisher: NineStar Press

Release Date: March 19, 2018

Heat Level: 1 – No Sex

Pairing: Female/Female

Length: 17000

Genre: romance, historical, LGBT, Historical, lesbian, 1950’s, tomboy, student, blue collar, mechanic, NASA, scientist, friends to lovers

Add to Goodreads

Synopsis

Some kids’ heads are in the clouds. Harriet Little’s head is in outer space.

In 1950s America, everyone is expected to come out of a cookie-cutter mold. But Harriet prefers the people who don’t, like her communist-sympathizer father and her best friend Jackie, a tomboy who bucks the school dress code of skirts and blouses in favor of T-shirts and blue jeans. Harriet realizes she’s also different when she starts to swoon over Rosemary Clooney instead of Rock Hudson—and finds Sputnik and sci-fi more fascinating than sock hops.

Before long, Harriet is secretly dating the most popular girl in the school. But she soon learns that real love needs a stronger foundation than frilly dresses and feminine wiles.

Excerpt

The first time I met Jackie, I thought she was a boy. Of course, she was only eight then, an age when most humans would still be fairly androgynous if our society didn’t have the habit of primping us up in clothes that point in one direction or the other.

Jackie was in straight-legged dungarees, a checkered button-down shirt, and a brown leather belt with crossed rifles embossed on the brass buckle. Her hair was short, trimmed above the ears.

“Who’s that new boy?” my friend Shelley whispered as we settled into our desks. It was the first day of fourth grade, and Mrs. Baumgartner had made folded-paper name placards for each seat so we’d know where to go. Shelley always sat right in front of me because our last names were next to each other in the alphabet. She was Kramer; I was Little.

I looked at the blond cherub in the front row. He—as I thought Jackie was at the time—had his gaze set toward the ceiling, eyes tracing the portraits of the US presidents that hung at the top of the wall. A cowlick stuck up from the back of his head. He reminded me of Dennis the Menace, the mischievous star of my new favorite cartoon strip, which had debuted in our local paper that summer. I liked the way Dennis talked back to adults but somehow never got in trouble for it. I wished I had the same courage.

Mrs. Baumgartner walked into the room. The class fell silent and we straightened in our chairs, facing her. “Good morning, class. I’m your teacher for this year, Mrs. Baumgartner.”

“Good morning, Mrs. Baumgartner,” we answered in unison. She spelled her name on the chalkboard in cursive and asked us to recite the Pledge of Allegiance. Back then, the Pledge didn’t have the gist of a prayer like it does today; “under God” wasn’t added to “one nation indivisible” until three years later, after Eisenhower became president. I wiggled my toes around in my hand-me-down saddle shoes as we recited the words.

The trouble began when Mrs. Baumgartner started to take attendance. “Jacqueline Auglaize?”

“Here, Mrs. Baumgartner,” Dennis the Menace answered from the front row.

Mrs. Baumgartner narrowed her eyes. “New year at a new school, and we’re starting with the practical jokes already?”

“No, ma’am.”

“Will the real Jacqueline Auglaize please speak up? This is your only warning.” Mrs. Baumgartner’s eyes scanned the room. I craned my neck around. I hadn’t noticed any new girls in the classroom before our teacher’s arrival, but maybe I’d been distracted by the Dennis the Menace boy.

“I’m Jackie Auglaize, ma’am,” Dennis the Menace piped up again.

Mrs. Baumgartner’s face screwed up as if she’d accidentally sucked on a lemon. “What you are is on the way to the principal’s office, young man.”

“I’m not—”

“And a detention for talking back.”

Mrs. Baumgartner called on one of the other boys to escort the new, nameless student to his punishment. From chin to scalp, Dennis the Menace’s face turned red as a beet. His flushed ears looked almost purple against his pale hair.

Kids playing pranks didn’t blush like that.

“I think that really is a girl,” I whispered to Shelley. But if she heard, she didn’t respond. She knew better than to turn around in her seat when a teacher was already angry.

An hour later, Mrs. Baumgartner was quizzing us on our classroom rules when the school secretary appeared at the door. In tow was a student in a frilly cap-sleeved blouse, knee-length blue corduroy jumper with a flared skirt, lace-trimmed white bobby socks, a pair of shiny black Mary Janes—and short blonde hair.

The cowlick stood like a sentinel at the back of her scalp despite the hair polish that had clearly been combed through since we’d last seen her.

An audible gasp filled the classroom. Actually, it was multiple gasps, but they happened in such synchronization that they had the effect of a single, sustained note.

“Mrs. Baumgartner,” the secretary said, “Jacqueline Auglaize is ready to return to the classroom. We’ve explained the school dress code to her mother. The behavior of this morning won’t be repeated.”

“Thank you, Miss Hamilton. Welcome back, Jacqueline.”

Titters filled the room as Jacqueline walked toward her desk. Mrs. Baumgartner slapped her ruler against her desk. “Does anyone else want a detention?”

We went quiet. Detentions are never an auspicious way to start a new school year.

We spent the rest of the morning learning how to protect ourselves from atomic explosions. Mrs. Baumgartner said this knowledge could save us now that the Soviets had the bomb. “When an air raid siren goes off or you see a bright flash of light, duck and cover underneath a table or desk, inside a corridor, or next to a strong brick wall. Then pull your sweater or coat up to cover the back of your neck and head,” she explained.

We all squatted under our desks as instructed. My father said the Russians weren’t stupid enough to bomb us, that they loved the common people and wanted to protect us. But Mrs. Baumgartner seemed to think they were. She went on in excruciating detail about the things that could happen to us if we didn’t duck and cover. Glass from broken windows could fly in our faces, we could get a terrible sunburn from the blast; pieces of ceiling might drop on our heads. I wasn’t sure whom to believe about the bomb—my dad or Mrs. Baumgartner. I didn’t want to think about it. I shut out my teacher’s voice and stared at my scuffed saddle shoes, pondering how a boy could magically turn into a girl in the wink of an eye.

“She’s not a girl,” Shelley insisted as we walked out to morning recess. “Girls can’t have hair like that.”

“They can if they cut it.”

“But no mother would let a girl wear her hair so short.”

“The school wouldn’t let a boy wear a dress to class.”

Shelley must have been won over by my logic, because the next thing that came out of her mouth was, “Maybe she has a little brother who likes to stick gum in people’s hair.” Shelley’s brother had done that to her once, but since he only got it on the tail end of her braid, she hadn’t lost much length to the scissors when her mother cut it out. “Or she got lice. Yuck.”

I didn’t like the direction of Shelley’s last comment. As it was, the new girl was guaranteed to have very few friends after the morning’s clothing incident. If the lice rumor spread, she’d have no friends at all. I’d been new once too.

“She doesn’t look dirty,” I said. “Maybe her hair got caught in an escalator and they had to cut it off.” I was terrified of escalators. My mother had warned me never to play around on one or my clothes would get snagged between the steps and I’d be pulled in, then smashed as flat as a pancake. Back when she worked in a department store, before marrying my dad, she saw a lady get caught by the scarf in an escalator’s moving handrail, and it would have been death by strangling if an alert gentleman with a penknife hadn’t been nearby to free her. I still get a little on edge every time I step onto one.

We got in line to play hopscotch on a board a couple other girls had drawn earlier that morning. I looked around. The whole school was out on the playground, and it was harder than I would have expected to find a short-haired girl in a blue jumper. There were lots of blue corduroy jumpers darting around the swings and monkey bars and jungle gym. Wanamaker’s must have featured them in its back-to-school sale that year. My dress wasn’t new. It was a hand-me-down from my older sister, with a ribbon tie and a skirt made with less fabric than the newer fashions. Shelley and I had done a test run of our first-day outfits the previous week, and no matter how fast I spun around, my skirt failed to billow as dramatically as Shelley’s.

Still, I tried to make the skirt swing gracefully as I hopped down the squares. I had no desire to be dainty, but I liked the aesthetic of fabric twirling in the air. We went through the hopscotch line four times before I finally spotted Jackie. She was over by the fence, poking at the dirt with a stick. Alone.

That last bit was no surprise.

It took three more rounds of hopscotch before I worked up the nerve to go find out what she was doing.

“Where are you going?” Shelley called as I marched off.

I didn’t answer her, afraid I’d lose my momentum. It was risky talking to an outcast. On the one hand, it was the only way to turn her into not-an-outcast. On the other hand, it might turn me into one too.

“What are you doing?”

Jackie looked up. “Thinking about digging a hole to China.”

Purchase

NineStar Press | Amazon | Smashwords | Barnes & Noble | Kobo

Meet the Author

Janelle Reston lives in a northern lake town with her partner and their black cats. She loves watching Battlestar Galactica and queering gender. You can keep up with her at www.janellereston.com.

Giveaway

a Rafflecopter giveaway

1950's, blue-collar, friends-to-lovers, Historical, Lesbian, LGBT, Mechanic, NASA, scientist, Student, tomboy
Leave comment

Synopsis

Excerpt

Purchase

NineStar Press | Amazon | Smashwords | Barnes & Noble | Kobo

Meet the Author

Facebook | Twitter

Giveaway

Synopsis

Excerpt

Purchase

NineStar Press | Amazon | Smashwords | Barnes & Noble | Kobo

Meet the Author

Website | Facebook | Twitter

Giveaway

Synopsis

Excerpt

Purchase

Robert Winter Books | Amazon

Meet the Author

Website | Facebook | Twitter | Goodreads | eMail

Haven’t read September, book one in the Pride and Joy series yet? While Asylum can be read as a complete stand alone, you won’t want to miss David & Brandon’s story.

Tour Schedule

Giveaway

Synopsis

Excerpt

Purchase

NineStar Press | Amazon | Smashwords | Barnes & Noble | Kobo

Meet the Author

Website | Facebook | Twitter | Instagram | Pinterest

Giveaway

Synopsis

Excerpt

Purchase

NineStar Press | Amazon | Smashwords | Barnes & Noble | Kobo

Meet the Author

Website | Twitter | Instagram

Giveaway

Synopsis

Excerpt

Purchase

NineStar Press | Amazon | Smashwords | Barnes & Noble | Kobo

Meet the Author

Website | Facebook | Twitter

Giveaway

Synopsis

Excerpt

Purchase

NineStar Press | Amazon | Smashwords | Barnes & Noble | Kobo

Meet the Author

Facebook | Twitter

Giveaway

Synopsis

Excerpt

Purchase

NineStar Press | Amazon | Smashwords | Barnes & Noble | Kobo

Meet the Author

Website | Facebook | Twitter | Instagram

Giveaway

Synopsis

Purchase at Amazon

Excerpt

Meet the Author

Website | Facebook | Twitter | Goodreads | Amazon

Giveaway

Synopsis

Excerpt

Purchase

NineStar Press | Amazon | Smashwords | Barnes & Noble | Kobo

Meet the Author

Giveaway

Please follow & like us :)

Email Us!

Search Our Site

Follow Us On Twitter!

Subscribe to Blog via Email

Tags

Categories

Grab A Tour Button!

Join Team IndiGo!

Grab A Logo!