Check out this new release”Don’t Let Me Drown“ by Andy Siege (Other Worlds Ink Tour and excerpt)

Andy Siege has a new queer magical realism romance out (bi male, intersex female): Don’t Let Me Drown.

Traumatised by his experiences as a war photographer, Aaron is drowning in guilt and tranquilisers. On a new assignment to document the civil conflict in the African country of Miberia, he is paralysed by the belief that terrible things only happen so that he can capture them on camera.

When he meets Mary, a young woman in danger because she is intersex, he’s convinced that if he can just save her, it will redeem him for all the other deaths he’s witnessed.

So begins a race to the border, one step ahead of the rebel army. But as love grows between them and the country is submerged in innocent blood, Aaron comes to understand that he’s not saving Mary. She’s saving him.

Amidst the horrors of war, can Aaron rediscover hope?

Warnings: Violence, Drug Abuse, Depression, Explicit Sex

About the Series:

Unusual stories about racially diverse, neurodivergent characters of marginalised orientations and gender alignments. Enter bizarre, thought-provoking new worlds in these speculative novellas that explore deeply relevant themes in an irreverent way.

These are stand-alone novellas and can be read in any order.

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Excerpt

CHAPTER ONE

I’m chilling at the bottom of a swimming pool. Being down here, deep underwater, feels amazing. I can’t hold my breath forever though. I wish I could, or that maybe I would drown. Unfortunately, that’s not how human beings work, and eventually my stupid survival instincts will force me to resurface.

Did you know that crocodiles can hold their breath for up to an hour?

I’m behaving like an idiot and I should be embarrassed. I’m an adult and I need to get out and get dressed. I have responsibilities and a job to do. I’m an award-winning photographer, for fuck’s sake. I worked hard to get where I am.

I haven’t taken a photograph since Greece. The last picture I took was of a drowned toddler in a Mickey Mouse T-shirt, curled up on the beach with shallow waves lapping at his little body. The boy and his entire family tried to come over to Europe by motorboat, but a storm flipped them over and they all died. The toddler’s father, mother, and two sisters lay washed up further down the sandbank, with bloated bellies and wide-open eyes.

The Aegean Sea is beautiful at sunrise. I must have taken a thousand photographs with my most expensive Ceica Camera, but only that one specific picture was broadcast around the world. You’ve probably seen it in a newspaper or on TV. In the photograph, the little boy in the Mickey Mouse shirt looks like he’s sleeping, except that his lips are just a bit too blue, and his face is too relaxed. Also, a child wouldn’t be sleeping right in the surf as the sun rises over the Aegean.

My lungs start to burn and there is a kind of pressure building inside my brain, pushing me to resurface out of the swimming pool. I manage to hold my breath for a few more seconds while I rise, and then I pop my head out of the water and gasp.

Soft reggae tunes float through the air, and I smell curry and wood smoke from the buffet by the bar. I’m alone at the pool, apart from one high-class prostitute who is reclining in a pool chair, sipping water through a straw.

The African country of Miberia is at war, so the Western tourists and professionals have all left the country. The only foreigners still here are diplomats, weapons dealers, and journalists like me. I’m staying at the Crystal Hotel, which is a Chinese style high rise, painted blue and with bluish window glass. Even though it’s almost happy hour, and the buffet is extravagant, there’s no one at the bar. I arrived this morning, and the only other guests I saw at lunch were a pair of sketchy looking Asian businessmen.

I was supposed to take a taxi to the outskirts of the city today, to start photographing refugees, but I didn’t. The problem I have right now is a complex state of artistic paralysis. I haven’t taken a picture in many months. You see, people think that I’m good at taking photographs, but the truth is that every good picture I’ve ever taken mystifies me. When I got that major award for the picture of the drowned toddler, I pretended to know what I did to deserve it. But actually, I don’t know what I did, and I fear that I’ll never take a picture that good ever again.

I swim to the edge of the pool and then hoist myself up and out. I have a towel and a papaya vodka cocktail waiting for me on a rickety iron table. I dry myself off and down the drink, while doing a casual sweep of my surroundings. The walls around the hotel courtyard are tall and topped with razor wire. I wonder if they added the razor wire because of the war outside or if it has always been there. I hear a gunshot off in the distance. Somewhere in the city, someone may have just lost their life, and I wasn’t there to take the picture.

I believe in fate. I believe that things happen for a reason. But that poses an ethical problem. You see, I’m a war photographer, so when I take a picture of something horrible, I ask myself if that horrible thing happened just so that I could take a picture of it. Do you follow? I ask myself if the act of me taking a photograph caused the drowning of that little boy in the Mickey Mouse shirt. The obvious answer is no, but hear me out. That little boy’s death, together with my camera, sparked a global conversation about refugees. Fate?

The high-class prostitute on the other side of the pool just winked at me. I don’t find her particularly sexy. I haven’t found anyone sexy in a long time, actually. My libido seems to have died with that toddler in Greece. I can still appreciate the aesthetics of a beautiful person, healthy skin, good teeth, an outgoing personality, but I just can’t get a boner anymore. I shake my head at the prostitute so that she gets it.

There’s a war going on in Miberia. A complex, brutal, bloody beast of a war, and I’m here to take pictures. So now I ask myself, does my presence here mean that bad things will happen just so that I can photograph them? If that’s true, then it might be better if I just stay at the Crystal Hotel, if I don’t venture out into the city, out into the countryside where entire villages are getting butchered. Maybe my presence out there will cause more atrocities to happen. That’s a crippling thought.

I make my way over to the buffet by the bar. There’s roasted chicken and rice that smells like curry and cinnamon. I load my plate with the exotic food and take a seat at a small table. The chow is delicious, probably because the ingredients are much fresher than anything from the supermarket back in Canada. I feel a little shitty though, because I know that while I’m pigging out, about thirty percent of the population of Miberia is starving. There isn’t anything I can do about that, of course, plus I’m hungry.

The two Asian businessmen who I saw at lunch come in through the gate. They’re tall, with unremarkable haircuts, intelligent eyes, and pot bellies. I wonder what category of war profiteer they fall under. Are they weapons salesmen, diplomats, military advisors, diamond miners? They both nod at me, although they don’t smile. I spent some time in the Ukraine during the Russian invasion and I noticed that men who mean business don’t smile a lot.

I’m actually a quarter black, although I pass as white. Most people think I’m Greek or Italian on account of my black hair and slight natural tan. The truth is, though, that my granddad on my mom’s side was Miberian. That’s one of the reasons why I took this assignment. I wanted to get to know the country that my ancestors are from. I even know the name of my tribe, the Mzuru, who live in the northern jungles of Miberia. I don’t know a lot about them, except that they worship crocodiles and have six fingers on their left hands. So do I.

The medical term for this condition is “polydactyly”, which means “many fingers” in Greek. Most people who have this condition can’t use the extra finger because it doesn’t have bones in it, but mine is fully functional. It’s located on the little finger side of the hand and it even helps me complete some tasks better than normal people can. For example, I can switch the settings on my camera faster than other photographers are able to.

I won’t be able to visit the tribe, of course, because of the war. I would love to hug a long-lost relative right now. When I said earlier that I can’t get a boner, I didn’t mean that I’m completely adverse to affection. I do sometimes wish for physical contact, actually I don’t think any human being can exist without it. They did a study with orphans in Romania who were starved of hugs, cuddles, kisses, etc. Those children became sick and died. So yeah, I too feel like getting a backrub or a peck on the forehead from time to time. Today is one of those days where I wouldn’t mind some affection. Paying a prostitute isn’t my style, and the Asian businessmen at the bar are probably too homophobic to cuddle with me.

Actually, homosexuality is illegal in the government-run parts of Miberia, so I’ve got to be a little careful. If I do meet someone to share warmth with, it has got to be a woman. You can literally go to jail here if you are found to be gay. Horrible? Certainly, and it gets worse… you see, in Miberia, you can go to jail if you support gay rights, even if you are straight. That means that there is practically no way for things to get better, because even allies are too afraid to say anything. Whatever, maybe once the war is over, things will change.

The high-class prostitute by the pool is the only female at the hotel, and I’m not going to pay someone for love. I guess I’ll have to toughen up and be alone tonight. As I’m thinking this I hear a burst of machine gun fire out in the city. Did someone just die for no reason? Was I supposed to be there to photograph what happened? Should I have been there to give meaning to the loss of life? Or did the bullets miss their mark because I wasn’t there? Did I save a life by refusing to engage with the bloodshed?

Author Bio

Andy Siege born as Andreas Madjid Siege in Kenya in 1985 is an award winning film director and author. He is a POC, neurologically diverse, and queer. He has published 11 novels/novellas, and his debut feature film “Beti and Amare” which he wrote and directed was nominated for multiple high profile international film awards. He has a BA in Creative Writing and an MA in Political Science.

Author Facebook (Personal): https://www.facebook.com/andreas.siege

Author Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/andysiege/

Author Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/25963464.Andy_Siege

Author Amazon: https://www.amazon.com/stores/author/B08P1XL2DV

Check out this new release “Iguana“ by Vincent Traughber Meis (Other Worlds Ink Tour and excerpt )

Vincent Traughber Meis has a new MM romance out: Iguana. And there’s a giveaway!

Dawson Wozniak moved to Puerto Vallarta, Mexico looking for a change after ending a long-term relationship. Returning to the site where his parents honeymooned, immersing himself in the local culture, and meeting new friends was sure to bring adventure and, hopefully, clarity about both his past and his future. His apartment building’s manager, Ivan, throws a wrench in the plan with his handsome looks, occasional flirting, and forced distance. Just as they are about to test their undeniable curiosity and attraction for each other, a tragedy strikes the building, forcing Dawson and Ivan apart.

When it seems there are too many obstacles, Ivan insists they can’t explore their chemistry. Still, he keeps coming back and pulling Dawson in, teasing him with possibility but filling him with doubt. Soon Dawson is consumed with thoughts of Ivan and his mercurial attention, and he can’t help but compare himself to the tragic gay characters in the books he edits. One minute Ivan is playful and laughing, and the next he’s cold and aloof, battling with cultural expectations and familial responsibilities.

Dawson gives into the push and pull of this confusing but exhilarating relationship, trying to convince himself he can handle a no-strings-attached situation with a man who is still coming to terms with his sexuality…even if he knows that he would love nothing more than to have Ivan fully, openly, and all to himself. While this confusing relationship may not be the adventure he was expecting, it may just be the adventure that allows Dawson to decide exactly who and where he wants to be.

Warnings: COVID, death, drug/alcohol use, possible suicide, mention of rape

Universal Buy Link

Giveaway

Vincent is giving away a $20 Amazon gift card with this tour:

a Rafflecopter giveaway https://widget-prime.rafflecopter.com/launch.js

Direct Link: http://www.rafflecopter.com/rafl/display/b60e8d47326/

Excerpt

A rustling in the dry undergrowth and the crackling of twigs indicated a large-ish animal. It spotted me before I spotted it, but even with its camouflage, it couldn’t hide in the sparse surroundings. The iguana slithered up the embankment to higher ground with its long black and tan striped tail fanning back and forth to aid its escape. It climbed a tree and moved out on a branch that hung over the sidewalk in front of me.

I stopped. It stopped. I took a step forward. It crawled out a little further on the branch as if it was a gatekeeper. I had never been that close to an iguana, just ten feet above me, looking fierce with a torso about three feet long and a dewlap of variegated skin fluttering under its throat. A row of spikes ran down the spine, getting shorter as they reached the long tail. I’d been told they were harmless as long as they weren’t threatened. Some people even took them on as unlikely pets, putting them on leashes and charging tourists to take a picture with them.

But there was something about the way it stared at me that kept me frozen there on the pavement, wondering if it was safe to walk under its perch on the branch. I stared back. For what seemed a long time, we stared at each other. And then, its scaly eyebrow closed over the black marble pupil in a bed of yellow iris. If we had been playing a game of who blinks first, I had won. I didn’t feel like a winner, though, and the iguana didn’t seem to care as it continued to observe me, blinking as if bored with the relative newcomer on the planet. I nodded, acknowledging I was an invader in its land. Not just as a foreigner but as a human carving into the jungle habitat of the animal.

I was in Mexico for a new beginning, walking down the hill to do my shopping, if this beast would let me. Sweat began pooling in the middle of my chest, and I needed to move on. As I passed under the branch, I swear the iguana shrugged and looked away as if it was done with me. I felt dismissed. And then I began to laugh, a laughter of relief and surprise, thrilled with this new experience, one more in a long list that seemed a daily occurrence since I had moved here.

The day had begun with clear skies broadcasting hope, the balcony slightly cooler than inside the house as I lingered over my breakfast, feeling the view of the Bay of Banderas from Punta de Mita to Los Arcos like a physical thing that coddled me. We were in the dog days of summer, with the dog-star, Sirius, rising and setting about the same time as the sun. It was the hottest time of the year, and relief only came, I was told by my neighbors, when afternoon showers again pelted the corrugated roofs of the neighborhood down below. Everyone talked of the rains coming late this year.

Before the heat and humidity became too oppressive, I planned to walk down the hill to the market and buy food for the next few days when the forecasters insisted the heavy rains would come, ushered in by thunder and lightning. I would get back up the hill before the church bells struck ten in the plaza below.

I stepped out of the apartment into the stuffy hall, which smelled of fried onions and spices I couldn’t identify from the apartment across the hall. I summoned the elevator and watched the short countdown from the rooftop to my floor. When the doors opened, Ivan in his company logo polo shirt and jeans stood chewing on one of his fingernails. He dropped his hands and folded them in front of his crotch as he stepped aside and made room. “Buenos días, señor Dawson.”

“Hola, Ivan.” I leaned against the back wall and watched his blurry reflection in the shiny metal of the doors.

On the next floor, he got off, and as the doors closed, I let out the breath I didn’t know I had been holding. The tension I felt when near him made no sense. Ivan had been hired a few months before as the day manager who oversaw daily operations in the twelve-unit building curiously named Paradiso, which sounded both presumptuous and unsettling. He handled everything from delivering packages to residents’ doors to coordinating cleanups to keeping the place secure. Everyone found him friendly and efficient. Everyone loved him. Why did I often see him joking and bantering in English and Spanish with other residents when he was all business and cold with me? Why did my packages sometimes go undelivered when everyone else got theirs the same day?

Author Bio

Vincent Traughber Meis grew up in Decatur, Illinois and graduated from Tulane University in New Orleans. He has also traveled extensively, and as result of his travels and time abroad he published a number of pieces, mostly travel articles, but also a few poems and book reviews, in publications such as, The Advocate, LA Weekly, In Style, and Our World in the 1980s and 90s. He has published five novels with Fallen Bros Press: Eddie’s Desert Rose (2011), Tio Jorge (2012), and Down in Cuba (2013), Deluge (2016) and Four Calling Burds (2019).

Tio Jorge received a Rainbow Award in the category of Bisexual Fiction in 2012.Down in Cuba received two Rainbow Awards in 2013. Deluge won a Rainbow Award in 2016. His sixth novel The Mayor of Oak Street was released in 2021 with NineStar Press and a book of his short stories in 2021. Three more novels have been published with Spectrum Books, First Born Sons (2023), Colton’s Terrible Wonderful year (2023) and The Long Journey to You (2024). His stories have been published in several collections, including WITH: New Gay Fiction, and other collections. He lives in San Leandro, California and Puerto Vallarta, Mexico.

Author Website: https://www.vincentmeis.com

Author Facebook (Personal): https://www.facebook.com/vincentmeis

Author Facebook (Author Page): https://www.facebook.com/vincenttraughbermeis

Author Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/vincentmeisauthor

Author Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/5755735.Vincent_Meis

Author Amazon: https://www.amazon.com/~/e/B00J7YZQU4

Check out the new tour for “Lady Grace and Her Knights“ by M.D. Grimm (Other Worlds Ink tour and excerpt)

M.D. Grimm has a new MMF fantasy romance out: Lady Grace and Her Knights. And there’s a giveaway.

Two knights are better than one…

Lady Grace never expected to be kidnapped. Why would she? She’s a duke’s daughter and about to marry her beloved white knight, Prince Isaac. Although Grace manages to escape the bandits… she doesn’t do it alone. A masked man sweeps her off her feet, and from their first encounter, she knows he’s something special. Thankfully, her betrothed is of a similar mind to her own.

Prince Isaac is equal parts delighted to be reunited with his bride and intrigued by her rescuer, a courteous, quiet man named Samuel. He and Grace always wanted a special third on their wedding night—and in their marriage bed—and Samuel might be the one they’ve been looking for. They simply need to seduce him into believing it as well.

Samuel can’t help but be enraptured by Grace’s beauty and spirit and Isaac’s strength and charm. Hiding behind a mask, he knows they will reject him if they see his devastating scars, but their playful coaxing and suggestive smiles force him to wonder if they are as sincere as they seem.

Convincing Samuel to join them might prove to be their greatest challenge yet. Good thing Grace is a woman who gets what she wants, and Isaac has a royal’s stubbornness.

Samuel doesn’t stand a chance.

Universal Buy Link

Liminal Fiction: https://www.limfic.com/book/lady-grace-and-her-knights/

QueeRomance Ink: https://www.queeromanceink.com/book/lady-grace-and-her-knights/

Giveaway

M.D. is giving away a $10 Amazon gift card with this tour:

a Rafflecopter giveaway https://widget-prime.rafflecopter.com/launch.js

Direct Link: http://www.rafflecopter.com/rafl/display/b60e8d47312/

Excerpt

She ran.

Her torn skirt allowed her legs full movement, and she ran despite the lack of light and her questionable balance. She dodged around trees and leapt over roots, praying she wouldn’t trip again. But she didn’t get far before she heard the thunder of hooves behind her, and her balance failed her completely. She collapsed onto the moss and gasped for air, shivering and sick.

Palm sweaty, she gripped the dagger tighter and rolled over, scooting backward to press against a tree. She held the blade in a trembling hand and faced her pursuer. She could handle one easier than a dozen.

A gorgeous black stallion stood a few feet from her. He stamped his hoof and tossed his head, gnawing at the bit. His rider was like a shadow in the dark. Dressed all in black, the hooded, lean figure dismounted, revealing his height and rangy limbs.

He wore a mask. It was also black and though tailored to the shape of his face, it didn’t have features, giving him an eerie, otherworldly visage. It was more like a solid shield of onyx. Dark eyes with an inner brightness stared at her, and as he came closer, she realized the mask also had a cutout for his mouth.

She gritted her teeth and raised her dagger. “One step closer, and I will cut you from navel to nose. I swear to The Three.”

He froze.

As her vision adjusted to the dimness, she peered at his eyes. Though she searched for the same cruelty as was in the bandit’s leader’s gaze, she didn’t find it.

He slowly raised his hands palm out before dropping to one knee in front of her. He bowed his head after pushing back his hood, revealing straight black hair that brushed his shoulders.

She blinked. She’d grown up around knights and realized he moved as one. Who was he?

“I am at your service, my lady,” he said, his deep voice low and calm. “I swear to The Three, I mean you no harm. One of my friends spotted you with the bandits, and I knew we needed to rescue you. We have been after the bandits since they started terrorizing this forest months ago. We cannot stay here long. I need to get back to my friends, and we need to retreat. Unfortunately, we don’t have the means to take them on and win.”

Grace swallowed, wanting to believe him with everything inside her. But her life depended on trusting the right person.

“Take off your mask and let me see your face.”

He flinched.

She frowned.

“Forgive me, my lady. I… cannot. My face is damaged you see, and it wouldn’t be proper for a lady of your standing to see it.”

His words thickened as if emotion was clogging his throat. Sir Alexander—may he rest safely in the bosoms of The Three—had sounded like that when he’d spoken about his two sons. Barely more than lads, they’d died in a war years ago. He’d also take on a solemn, choking tone when he’d mention his own time fighting enemies as a younger man.

Grief and bad memories. His sorrow touched her, and she let her hand drop.

Movement and hurried footsteps had her squinting over his shoulder. She gasped when three bandits rushed them, startling the stallion into a whinny.

“Watch—”

The man in black rose to his feet, and in one fluid motion, spun and unsheathed his sword. Without hesitation, he engaged the bandits, acting as a shield. Her shield. His skill with a sword was enviable, as was his fearlessness as axes sliced down at him. He was quick on his feet and bold in his moves. Entranced by his prowess, Grace momentarily forgot her predicament and remembered the times she’d watched Isaac on the training fields with his knights.

“You bloody devil!” One bandit yelled before taking a slice to the chest.

“Masked coward!”

The masked man said nothing as he fought with the fury of ten men.

As one bandit went down with a grunt, bleeding out, another slipped past Samuel and leapt toward her. “Noble bitch. Better you die now. You’re not worth the trouble.”

He raised his axe.

She screamed and raised her knife.

Gleaming steel erupted from the bandit’s chest, blood spraying, a few drops landing on her face. Then the masked man yanked out his sword and tossed the bandit away like refuse.

Shocked, Grace stared past him and noticed the third bandit was already twitching on the ground, groaning as he died. The skirmish hadn’t lasted very long, the brutes not standing a chance against someone with training.

Panting, the masked man wiped his sword on his cloak before sheathing it. He glanced at their surroundings before kneeling once more at her feet. She dropped her hand again and swallowed hard, shaken by what she’d witnessed. The man’s eyes had changed during the battle, a raw battle fury she’d seen in many a knight. But now they returned to their compassionate, concerned gleam.

She cleared her throat. “What is your name?”

“Samuel,” he said, still panting.

Author Bio

M.D. Grimm has wanted to write stories since second grade (kind of young to make life decisions, but whatever) and nothing has changed since then (well, plenty of things actually, but not that!). Thankfully, she has indulgent parents who let her dream, but also made sure she understood she’d need a steady job to pay the bills (they never let her forget it!).

After graduating from the University of Oregon and majoring in English, (let’s be honest: useless degree, what else was she going to do with it?) she started on her writing career and couldn’t be happier. Working by day and writing by night (or any spare time she can carve out), she enjoys embarking on romantic quests and daring adventures (living vicariously, you could say) and creating characters that always triumph against the villain, (or else what’s the point?) finding their soul mate in the process.

Author Website: https://mdgrimmwrites.com/

Author Facebook (Personal): http://www.facebook.com/mdgrimmwrites

Author Facebook (Author Page): https://www.facebook.com/mdgrimmbooks

Author Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/mdgrimmwrites

Author Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/mdgrimm

Author Liminal Fiction (LimFic.com): https://www.limfic.com/mbm-book-author/m-d-grimm/

Author QueeRomance Ink: https://www.queeromanceink.com/mbm-book-author/m-d-grimm/

Check out this new release “Once Upon A Goth Dog Solstice“ by R.L. Merrill (tour and excerpt)

R.L. Merrill has a new MM romance out (gay, bisexual/genderqueer), part of the multi-author Once Upon A Holiday series: Once Upon A Goth Dog Solstice. And there’s a giveaway!

From the author of the award-winning novel You Can Do Magic: Carnival of Mysteries and Publishers Weekly’s BookLife quarterfinalist Earthquake Ethan comes a heartwarming holiday tale of found family and sacrifice. Two wildly opposite veterans connect over a shared love of art, rescue dogs, and a very special foster child.

Doug Cross spent the first half of his life attempting to appease his career-military father. After a stint in the Air Force and a successful career in cybersecurity, he’s traveled the world in search of fulfillment. He believes he’s found it in the San Francisco Bay Area with a room on an urban farm, a new spot in a goth punk band, and the support of his extended family. He’s always been a helper by nature, so when he learns that his housemate’s dog rescue is in trouble, he creates goth-influenced dog accessories to sell at the Treasure Island Arts and Crafts Fair in hopes of raising much-needed funds for the pups. He also lends a helping hand to his neighbor at the fair, and the two have a potential meet-cute…that quickly fizzles, leaving Doug wondering why his charming personality failed to make a new friend.

Luther Sorenson is a disabled Marine veteran who is struggling to keep his family afloat—and himself literally on his feet. His sister convinces him to sell his wood paintings at the fair as a way to supplement his income. He’s a single foster dad to eight-year-old Mila and is desperate to give her everything she deserves. His body doesn’t always cooperate, however, and having to ask for help from the goth guy next door at the art market could have potentially been humiliating. But Doug makes it easy, and Luther can’t stop thinking about him in between markets. Doug seems like the kind of person Luther could add to his support network. Not to mention, his superb makeup skills and the way he rocks a utilikilt have Luther smitten in no time.

A brunch “business meeting” turns into adult summer camp, and Doug and Luther embark on a tentative courtship while navigating the challenges of parenthood and owning a small business. But as the seasons change, the two men find in each other what they’ve always desired: love, family, and acceptance. On the night of the winter solstice, will they choose to combine forces and step into the unknown together?

Once Upon A Goth Dog Solstice is a part of the multi-author series Once Upon a Holiday Story. Each book can be read as a standalone and in any order. What links these books together is The Hook’s Book Nook Traveling Library, a library on wheels owned by two old ladies in love.

About the Series:

Universal Buy Link

Giveaway

R.L. is giving away a $25 Amazon gift card with this tour:

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Direct Link: http://www.rafflecopter.com/rafl/display/b60e8d47321/

Excerpt

“I had a bad dream.”

Eight-year-old Mila Saavedra stood in the doorway of Luther’s room with a stuffed dinosaur hanging limply from one hand. Her other hand was pressed against her stomach.

Luther turned over and sat on his yoga mat with his arm out, gesturing for her to come closer. The brief seconds she hesitated to move toward the mat gutted him. Once she settled on a course of action, she approached him, not front on but coming around the mat to stand nearer his side.

“What happened in your dream?”

Mila sat cross-legged and folded her hands in her lap with Terry D’actyl against her body. It was still tough to get her to make eye contact, but Luther knew better than to push that issue. It hadn’t worked with him as a young man, and he was determined not to make the same mistakes as the foster parents he’d lived with.

“I went to school and no one was there to greet us. I went to my classroom and no one was there. No one came to take us to lunch. I sat at my desk all day, and no one came. And at the end of the day…” She ducked her head, and Luther heard the shaky breath she took in.

“At the end of the day, I come to get you.”

She shook her head.

Luther let out a breath. As much as he hated to revisit his past, Mila’s social worker, Miss Vanessa, told him from the start that building rapport with his foster daughter would likely require him to find ways to connect with her around their shared experiences.

The whole reason he’d become a foster parent was to help other kids avoid having those kinds of shared experiences.

“I used to have dreams like that, too.”

She lifted her head long enough to look at him from under her thick bangs, and then she looked at his feet. “What did you do?”

Luther definitely didn’t want to get into all of the negative ways he’d coped as a kid. That was in the past. But he could tell her about the ways he coped with life now.

“When I have bad dreams now, I exercise, or I go work in my studio. Those are things that make me feel better.” He let out a breath and thought how much he wished he could spend the day with Mila, but he’d signed on to work the art market on Treasure Island one weekend a month, and today was his first day. He’d gone over and parked his trailer in his spot the previous night, so he could scope the place out. He’d been a little nervous about registering to become a vendor, but once he’d stepped out of his truck and breathed in the San Francisco Bay breeze, he’d allowed himself the briefest moment of peace. The view of the San Francisco Bay at sunset was breathtaking, the weather was forecast to be mild, and he’d finally have a chance to see what—if any—kind of money he could make selling his wood paintings.

It had been his sister’s idea for him to try selling the art he usually reserved as gifts for his closest friends. Violet helped him research vendor opportunities, got him registered for this one, and helped him get everything set up to run a business. She volunteered to stay with Mila on the days he’d be at the fair. If he hadn’t already known how incredible his sister was, well…now he knew she was an absolute gift.

“I like to fix things,” Mila said quietly. She reached over and tentatively touched a tiny hole in the hem of his sweatpants. “My tummy feels better when things are all right.”

Luther’s own stomach clenched at her words. “Mine does, too. What do you think would make things all right this morning?”

She glanced at him under her bangs. “I wish I could sew,” she nearly whispered. “I could fix your pants.”

Luther wanted to reach out and take her hand, but Miss Vanessa had suggested he wait for her to engage with him when she was ready. She’d been with him for six months now, and they’d made huge progress, but he was determined to do everything right so she could have a chance to heal. He wanted to make things safe for her, give her a place to find herself.

“These old things?” He tugged at the cuff and showed her the inside. She gasped at the barely attached threads. “Don’t you worry about these. I’ve had them since before I was in the Marines.” There was a hitch in his voice as he mentioned his previous calling. He cleared his throat. “If you tried to sew these holes, the material would likely disintegrate in your fingers. Auntie Violet will be up soon. She’s an expert at sewing.”

That got him a timid smile. “Would she teach me?”

“I’m sure she will. She taught me.”

Her eyes bugged out. “You know how to sew?”

Luther let out an exaggerated sigh. “Marines know everything, remember?”

She groaned and squeezed Terry tight. Then she turned him around and pointed to a seam on the critter’s back that was barely hanging on. “Do you think I can fix this?”

Poor Terry had been through it. Luther had gently tried to replace him, but every morning he’d find Mila’s arms wrapped around the beat-up pterodactyl. He was the only toy she’d been able to bring with her when Miss Vanessa took her from her unsafe situation, and Luther knew the two of them had seen some shit together.

“I do. Now,” Luther said, looking at where she still had a hand on her stomach. “What can we do to fix your tummy?”

She tilted her head as though it was a difficult decision, but Luther knew her answer.

“Pancakes?”

“As if it would be anything else. Come on,” he said, knowing that cutting his exercise time short would bite him in the ass later, but he was determined to give the world to this little girl, no matter the price he paid.

He managed to push himself up off the floor without cursing and he took it slow as he straightened his back, stretching his arms above his head.

Author Bio

R.L. Merrill loves creating compelling stories that will stay with readers long after. Ro writes inclusive contemporary romance, paranormal, and horror-inspired music reviews. A mom, wife, daughter, former educator, and advocate for social and reproductive justice, you can currently find cruising in her Bronco with Great Dane pup Velma, being terrorized by feline twins Dracula and Frankenstein, or headbanging at a rock show near her home in the San Francisco Bay Area! Stay Tuned for more…

Author Website: https://www.rlmerrillauthor.com

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Check out The Cover Reveal for “Chaos Kin” by Sheryl Hayes (OWL World Tour and Reveal)

Sheryl R. Hayes has a new FF paranormal romance book coming out (bi, poly), Jordan Abbey book 3, and we have the cover reveal: Chaos Kin.

In the town of Rancho Robles, can one werewolf protect the Children of the Wolf and the Bat? Chaos Wolf Jordan Abbey has made friends among the Black Oak Pack even though she refuses to join it. The same can’t be said of the vampires, but her life has taken a turn for the better.

That is until Enya Blevins, sister to the werewolf who turned Jordan, arrives in Rancho Robles. She wants to know who killed her baby brother and is less than impressed by the Chaos Wolf. Enya wants revenge, starting with Jordan and ending with the vampires infesting the area.

Jordan is prepared to flee, but a technicality makes her an Alpha Werewolf. Now she must stand her ground to protect her nascent Pack and those she loves.

The past has come back to bite her. Does she have the fangs to bite back?

About the Series:

In the Northern California town of Rancho Robles where the Children of the Wolf and the Bat share an uneasy coexistence. One werewolf woman threatens to upset that balance.

Universal Buy Link | Liminal Fiction | Goodreads

Author Bio

Sheryl R. Hayes can be found untangling plot threads or the yarn her three cats have been playing with. She is equally likely to be shooing one of them off the keyboard as she is working on her novels and short stories. In addition to writing, she is a cosplayer focusing on knit and crochet costumes.

Author Website: https://www.sherylrhayes.com

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Check out the latest tour and giveaway for The Hencha Queen by J. Scott Coatsworth

J. Scott Coatsworth has a new queer sci-fantasy book out, Tales from Tharassas book 3: The Hencha Queen.

“A richly painted world that is both beautiful and sinister, evoking landscapes that are as much science fiction as Tolkiensian fantasy. 5 stars.” –Ulysses, Paranormal Romance Guild

SILYA COMES INTO HER OWN, BUT WILL SHE BE ENOUGH?

Silya finally has everything she always wanted. She’s the Hencha Queen, head of the Temple, and is working to master her newfound talents. So why does the world pick now to fall apart?

Her once-nemesis Raven is off riding dragons, and their mutual friend (and her ex) Aik is nowhere to be found. Meanwhile, a new threat menaces the Heartland from the East, and if she can’t convince a reluctant Gullton city council to prepare for the worst, she may lose everyone and everything she’s ever cared about.

As she uses her magic-like abilities, wit and sheer determination to try to save the city, she’s joined by Raven and his new friends. Will their help tip the scales? And will they finally find out what happened to Aik as a dark storm threatens to sweep them all away?

Forget messy. Things just got apocalyptic.

Universal Buy Link

About the Series

The Tharassas Cycle is a four book sci-fantasy series set on the recently colonized world of Tharassas. When humans first arrived on planet, they thought they were alone until the hencha mind made itself known. But now a new threat has arisen to challenge both humankind and their new allies on this alien world.

Books 1 & 2 are on sale through March 31st for just 99Â¢ each (eBooks, all vendors). And if you buy one (or all three) of the main series books, email scott@jscottcoatsworth.com and let him know and he’ll send you a free copy of Tales From Tharassas, the prequel.

See All the Pre-Release Deals

Giveaway

Scott is giving away an eBook copy of Tales from Tharassas, the prequel, to everyone who enters the sweepstakes:

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Excerpt

A sharp crack filled the wine cellar. Kerrick swung the heavy mallet back and then assailed the flopwood boards that blocked the tunnel entrance again. The ancient wood splintered under the blow, sending shards clattering across the stone-paved floor.

It felt good to work out his frustrations. Still, the stubborn wood held out against his assault.

He rested the mallet on the black-tiled stone floor, wiping the sweat off his forehead with the back of his hand. Even after a hundred years, the barrier was strong. Heâd tried to pry the boards out of the solid stone, but theyâd been fastened in too tightly. Brute force it is.

âYouâre doing great!â CorâLeaâs voice was artificially bright, and she was as tall as he was, maybe a little taller, peering over his shoulder at the sealed tunnel entrance.

Silya had tasked her with bringing him down here to check out these hidden caverns under the Temple, in preparation for the coming war. Important, sure, but also clearly an excuse to get him out from underfoot while she prepared for her official Raising.

He grunted. âThanks. These boards are hard as iron.â And hard as Silyaâs will.

One day things would be different between them, once this crisis was over. I just have to be patient.

Coral laughed. âIâm sure a big, strong man like you can break through them easily.â She squeezed his bicep appreciatively.

He shrugged her off. He wasnât sure if the gawky initiate was flirting with him or just trying to encourage him to get on with it, but either way, he wasnât interested. âStand back.â He hefted the hammer again, and she scurried out of his way.

He suppressed a smile, swinging the mallet around for another heavy blow.

Craack.

This time the board buckled inward visibly. Another few hits should do it.

He pulled back the heavy iron hammer again and hit the same spot with blow after blow. Craack. Craack. Craack.

The mallet broke through and a board fell away into splinters, clattering across the stone floor. One down, three more to go. âWhy did they seal this cavern up?â

CorâLea gestured at the natural chamber. âThere was a winery here before the Temple. Sister Dor said they used to use it for extra wine storage.â She looked around the natural chamber, which was now filled with wooden shelving holding a variety of bottled food stores. âWhen Jas ordered the Temple to be constructed, they kept this wide cavern and blocked off the rest of the tunnels.â

âJust in case the gully rats got in?â That thief Raven had apparently made his home in one of the underground tunnels. Who knew who elseâor what elseâlived down there?

CorâLea snorted. âMaybe.â

Are tunnels all connected, somehow? That was one of Silyaâs most urgent projects, to map out the network of caverns beneath the city. Another reason she sent me down hereâto get me out from under her robes.

A few more whacks at the next board served to both break it and let out his frustrations at the situation preventing him from doing his sworn job and keeping them apart. And at what she said was coming.

Craack. Craack. Craack.

The board snapped in half, and he judged that heâd cleared enough space to step through into the blocked-off tunnel. âHand me that lantern?

CorâLea complied, taking the opportunity to brush his hand.

He rolled his eyes. I should be flattered. But his heart was already taken.

It was times like these he wished his brother Enrick were still alive. Heâd know what to do. Heâd been absurdly confident about everything, even though heâd been younger than Kerrick.

Kerrick wasnât great with women.

He took the lantern and stepped over the bottom board, holding it in front of him. The bright light temporarily blinded him as he sought to get his bearings.

âWhat do you see?â CorâLea peered through the hole behind him.

His sight adjusted, and the tunnelâs walls came into focus.

He whistled. Stacked along the side of the tunnel were hundreds of crates, all strapped together in groups and sealed. âItâsâ¦ I donât know what it is. But Iâll bet Silya will be surprised.â Theyâd have to find a place to put all this stuffâwhatever it was, it was likely rotten after all this time. Silya needed somewhere to store people, not ancient goods.

CorâLea stepped carefully over the splintered boards to join him. âWhat do you thinkâs inside them?â

The long row of crates disappeared into the darkness. Who knew what the ancients had considered valuable enough to stash down here. Coin? Lost treasure? âOne way to find out. Does the Temple have a crowbar?â

Author Bio

Scott lives with his husband Mark in a yellow bungalow in Sacramento. He was indoctrinated into fantasy and sci fi by his mother at the tender age of nine. He devoured her library, but as he grew up, he wondered where all the people like him were.

He decided that if there werenât queer characters in his favorite genres, he would remake them to his own ends.

A Rainbow Award winning author, he runs Queer Sci Fi, QueeRomance Ink, Liminal Fiction, and Other Worlds Ink with Mark, sites that celebrate fiction reflecting queer reality, and is the committee chair for the Indie Authors Committee at the Science Fiction and Fantasy Writers of America (SFWA).

Author Website: https://www.jscottcoatsworth.com

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Author Amazon: http://www.amazon.com/J.-Scott-Coatsworth/e/B011AFO4OQ

Review: You, Again (The Elmwood Stories 1) by Lane Hayes

Rating: 4.5🌈

You, Again is the first in Lane Hayes heartwarming, contemporary romance series set In Elmwood, Vermont. This is another case of me running back to the beginning of a series after reading the second book, Next Season, and falling into love

with the town and characters.

Delightfully, You, Again, just reinforces all my impressions that Hayes has carefully crafted with the previous book, having left such a warmhearted and deeply happy memory of this series and town.

It’s got Vermont with all its small town charm and northern beauty, especially with its rich history and traditions. Then folds that in with hockey, at every level. From the famous NHL D-man reluctantly retiring from a game he passionately loves to return home for reasons he’s not even aware. Then the local ice rink and junior hockey teams with their tag team coaching, it’s all there realistically on the page. The kids pushing on ice, raw and full of energy but maybe not talent, using whatever equipment available, for the love of a game that defies age and skill and background. Hayes’ writing has this element richly jumping off the pages , off the ice and into our hearts. Along with the returning recently retired hockey god, Vinnie Kempinski, 36, trying to make amends and find a future.

Nolan the man Vinnie left behind, Ronnie who is Vinnie’s old friend and Nolan’s brother ,and MK, Ronnie’s daughter, all are amazing characters. Nolan especially as he’s been the one to shoulder the burdens of a family and the bitterness of a career left behind.

Hayes’ narrative has to rebuild relationships by revealing old ones and replacing them with new structures that have new truths for all involved. This is an emotional story and journey for both men. The fear on Vinnie’s side for his sexuality revelation, his coming out late in life feels believable.

This was the foundation for Next Season which is still my favorite of the series but I very much loved the characters and journey here to HEA. I’m hoping that the author has quite a few more stories planned for Elmwood. It’s a fabulous place to visit.

The Elmwood Stories:

✓ You, Again #1

✓ Next Season #2

◦ Holiday Crush #3 – Dec 10, 2023

Buy Link:

You, Again: MM Small Town/Hockey Romance (The Elmwood Stories Book 1)

Blurb:

The hometown hockey hero and his best friend’s brother…

Vinnie

Hockey is in my blood. I learned to skate before I learned how to ride a bike. I’ve been on a wild ride, playing at the highest level for some of the biggest and best teams in the league. But now it’s over, and I’m not sure what to do with myself.

So I’m going home to Elmwood.

But I’ll tell you what I’m not gonna do—I’m not going to coach my buddy’s junior hockey league. No chance. I don’t know how to deal with kids, and besides, the other coach—who happens to be my best friend’s brother—hates me. With reason.

That may be old news, yet something tells me we’re going to have to deal with the past.

And that’s almost as scary as coaching teens.

Nolan

No, I don’t hate Vinnie, but he drives me nuts.

He’s cocky, goofy, selfish, and yeah…after all these years, I’m still attracted to him. But I’m a responsible adult now. I run my family’s business, and with the help of my ex, I’ve made Elmwood Diner into a New England institution.

So maybe my life isn’t particularly exciting at the moment, and maybe Vinnie isn’t the worst. Nonetheless, I have no desire to rekindle a friendship with the hockey hero who no doubt will be on the first flight out of town the second he gets bored or gets a better offer.

And I’m not coaching with him. No way.

Ugh…

I can’t believe I’m doing this again.

You, Again is an MM bisexual, best friend’s brother, frenemies to lovers romance featuring old friends, a new quest, and a little hockey HEA!

Check Out the latest Release from M. D. Grimm! A Priest, A Plague, and A Prophecy!

M.D. Grimm has a new MM fantasy romance out (ace, bi, demi): A Priest, a Plague, and a Prophecy. And there’s a giveaway.

“Orcs are the answer but what is the question?”

Elias is a priest at the Temple of the Divine Sibyl. When he becomes lost in the woods after his brother’s hunting party abandons him, it’s just his luck that he’d stumble upon an angry orc caught in a trap. Unable to stomach the suffering of others, Elias throws self-preservation to the wind and frees the orc. Then Gurrkk—that’s a name?—ends up leading him to safety.

Gurrkk finds himself rather smitten by the sweet, awkward human. He’s always been fascinated with his people’s sworn enemy, and now he has a life debt to fulfill to maintain his honor.

Hiding an orc among the temple’s crypts wouldn’t have been Elias’s first choice but Gurrkk is stubborn about leaving. As they learn each other’s languages and spend more time together, Elias realizes they’ve become friends… and maybe more. And when the dying sibyl gives her last prophecy, Elias knows it wasn’t chance that brought them together, it was the gods.

But why?

This is a sweet, ace romance, so no sexy times, but plenty of snuggles and cuddles!

Universal Buy Links | Amazon | Barnes & Noble | Kobo | Smashwords

Giveaway

M.D. is giving away a $10 Amazon gift card with this tour:

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Excerpt

Elias closed his eyes and clasped his hands under his chin, sending a fervent prayer to the gods, asking for a sign. Any sign that would lead him home. Seconds passed. Minutes. He cracked open one eye to look around. Seeing nothing, he glared and set his fists on his hips.

So much for divine intervention.

“I’m one of your priests, and you don’t give me the time of day,” he mumbled as he set off down the left-hand path.

He was hungry again.

Even as he was contemplating the pros and cons of eating one of his last apples, he stumbled around a thick tree before halting in shock.

An orc sat on the ground, his greenish-gold skin glistening with sweat and his coal-black eyes glaring with menace. He was almost bald, except for a spiky strip of green hair running from his forehead to the back of his skull. The lack of hair accentuated his large ears that moved independently of each other. Two pronounced fangs jutted up from his lower jaw, which was square and blunt, and more sharp teeth showed when he growled.

Elias stayed frozen, taking in the long black tunic cinched at the waist by a gold cord. The short sleeves were trimmed with gold thread, baring muscled arms. The stately garb struck Elias, making him wonder as to the status of the orc. Did they have hierarchy as humans did? The tunic ended around his knees, leaving the rest of his muscled legs bare. Also, this orc wasn’t of monstrous size, so he couldn’t be of the mountain variety. He was certainly taller and broader than Elias, but also leaner, corded with muscle, like that big cat Elias had spotted earlier. And his face was… not horrible. Brutish and sharp but not hideous or even ugly. Those illustrators of tomes really set out to depict orcs as the most horrific creatures ever to grace the earth.

The urge to run made his palms grow damp and his breath to quicken. Not that he could run for more than a few steps before wheezing because he was so damn out of shape, and why the hell didn’t he train with his brother? I’m going to die, I’m going to die….

Then his gaze traveled down to the reason the orc was sitting on the ground and not eating his face. Vicious steel jaws had the orc by the ankle, piercing deeply into his flesh. The jaws were attached to a chain that was buried into to the earth. The fact the orc hadn’t freed himself meant this was one of the trick jaws. One specifically made for capturing orcs. The scoured earth around the chain proved that the orc had tried to dig himself free but clearly hadn’t succeeded. His ankle was a mess of torn flesh and caked blood, and only then did Elias notice the buzz of flies.

How long had he been sitting there, in pain? In fear?

Sympathy rose with anger not far behind. Elias and the orc stared at each other, and Elias found himself stepping closer without consciously deciding his actions. The orc growled deeper, eyes narrowed in warning. Elias stopped again, wondering what he was doing. This was an orc! The enemy! The beasts that kept trying to take their lands. Attius’s tirades whirled through his mind even as the battle songs about marauding orcs jangled in his memory.

He’d never joined in. He’d never had anything personal against orcs. He never thought one way or another about them. Fighting them wasn’t a part of his world. Most of his life had been spent ensconced in the Temple of the Divine Sibyl, which was safely behind fortified stone walls and separated from the general populace of the city.

He was sheltered and he knew it. To see such ugly pain in another living creature struck him to the core. That was one of the reasons he didn’t eat meat. He couldn’t reconcile killing just to feed himself when there were plenty of other things to consume if he simply looked.

At that moment, this orc was no different than any other wild animal caught in a trap. And would he let such a creature die so horribly? No, he would not.

Taking a deep breath, and with more courage than he would profess to have, Elias crouched before slowly pushing off his pack. He kept his eyes on the orc and opened the top flap before tilting it to show the orc that it only held medicines, plant samples, parchment, and ink.

“I don’t want to hurt you,” he said gently. “Can you understand me?”

The orc made no indication either way. He continued to growl and glare.

“I want to help you.” Elias took the one weapon he had, a long dagger, and showed the orc the blade before tossing it away. The orc stopped growling and blinked in apparent surprise. Elias shuffled closer on his knees, keeping his demeanor as non-threatening as possible. He almost snorted—as if a soft priest like him could be threatening. He kept speaking in low tones as he would to a frightened animal. He kept his pack held out in front of him, hoping the harmless items would convince the orc he wasn’t a hunter.

The orc’s large nostrils flared, and he squinted into the bag. He must have smelled the remaining apples, the plant samples, and the few healing ointments Elias carried with him everywhere. Elias set the bag within easy reach of the orc just in case he wanted to investigate. Then he took a good look at the steel jaws and winced.

The orc didn’t wear shoes, his sturdy, rough feet tough enough not to need them. His nails were more like claws, almost identical to those on his fingers. The trap would have been covered, and he’d stepped directly onto the triggering mechanism. The blades had barely missed his foot to cut into his ankle, probably scraping against the bones and tendons.

Elias took a moment to fight nausea.

“Damn. Once I free your leg it’s going to bleed profusely. I have to wrap it fast and tight.” He glanced up and met the orc’s eyes. Grim determination stared back at him and Elias blinked. “You do understand me.”

Author Bio

M.D. Grimm has wanted to write stories since second grade (kind of young to make life decisions, but whatever) and nothing has changed since then (well, plenty of things actually, but not that!).

Thankfully, she has indulgent parents who let her dream, but also made sure she understood she’d need a steady job to pay the bills (they never let her forget it!). After graduating from the University of Oregon and majoring in English, (let’s be honest: useless degree, what else was she going to do with it?) she started on her writing career and couldn’t be happier.

Working by day and writing by night (or any spare time she can carve out), she enjoys embarking on romantic quests and daring adventures (living vicariously, you could say) and creating characters that always triumph against the villain, (or else what’s the point?) finding their soul mate in the process.

Author Website: https://www.mdgrimmwrites.com

Author Facebook (Personal): https://www.facebook.com/profile.php?id=100001710645622

Author Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/4574220.M_D_Grimm

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Author Amazon: http://www.amazon.com/M.D.-Grimm/e/B00I0KZMY6/

Review: Fairy Cakes in Winter by Lane Hayes

Rating: 5🌈

“In the midst of winter, I found there was, within me, an invincible summer.”—Albert Camus Scott”

With that quote, Lane Hayes leads us into a heartwarming, absolutely engaging tale about two men who meet on a turbulent life changing airplane ride to London.

I fell so in love with this story from the moment I met them as they tried to get settled into their seats next to each other and prepared for their journey to London. Hayes effortlessly captures the essence of the intimacy of the closeness of the seats, the emotional experience it becomes as they get deeper in conversation and farther along into the flight.

There’s 39 year old Scott O’Brien, a baker originally from Seattle who now lives and works full time in the UK. Bearded, bearish, and quiet , Scott is a portrait of a man who has withdrawn into himself and intends to stay there. Too bad his seat companion is 29 year old Theodore Belden, an accountant from San Francisco on his way to visit his mother.

Theo is vibrant, a gift of verbiage and positivity. He’s also absolutely adorable in a Theo way. He’s also afraid of flying.

From this point the story flows visibly gathering layers and bits of each man’s past as they’re being pushed and pulled together into a incredible romantic journey that includes fairy cakes and side trips to Bath’s historic sites.

This was funny, sexy, romantic, and had me researching fairy cakes! It’s also now one of my favorite Lane Hayes story. Theo and Scott are such a fabulous couple.

If you are a fan of romance, grab this up! It’s a joy to read! I’m highly recommending it.

Buy link:

Amazon.comhttps://www.amazon.com › Fairy-C…Fairy Cakes in Winter: An M/M Age-Gap, Grumpy/Sunshine Romance

Description:

A grumpy baker, a quirky ad man, and a recipe for forever…

Scott

So this cute guy sits next to me on the plane and proceeds to talk my ear off for hours. Not good. I don’t like talking and I don’t like strangers. But Theo’s sweet, smart, and sexy—the perfect distraction from business woes and personal worries.

Okay, things get overly friendly, but we’re adults who know the score. I’m too old, he’s too nice, and we live on different continents.

Then, out of the blue, he shows up at my bakery with that pretty smile and a list of wacky marketing ideas—like how to make fairy cakes a thing.

I don’t like fairy cakes.

But I do like Theo, so…maybe?

Theo

The new me takes risks. The new me is brave and confident. The new me flirts with hunky, imposing bears on planes while traveling to a foreign country.

It’s going well, thank you.

However, my plans to sight-see, drink tea, and eat my weight in biscuits every day are derailed when I realize there might be a way to help Scott and prove a few things to myself.

Don’t worry. I won’t fall for the grumpy baker. No way. He’s complicated and broody and—

Uh oh…it might be too late. Help!

Fairy Cakes in Winter is a bisexual, age-gap, grumpy/sunshine MM romance featuring a sexy baker, a sunny tourist, and a few dozen fairy cakes.

Review: The Humbug Holiday by Lane Hayes

Rating: 4.5🌈

Lanes Hayes has written a heartwarming holiday story in The Humbug Holiday. One of my favorites this season, it’s has a gentle romance between two men whose histories include adolescent pasts with deep emotional pain associated with the Christmas holidays.

One, Cameron Warren, a famous author of mysteries, has escaped his LA home , family, and notoriety for a newly purchased old Victorian in small town Fallbrook, Vermont . He’s there to write and hide from the holidays.

However, his elderly aunts have temporarily accompanied him to make sure he’s settled, alive, and decorated in his new home. One that needs a ton of work.

Joe Linton, Handyman, is hired by one aunt to help make the beautiful old house livable for the winter, and start with the crusade to get their nephew to decorate.

Hayes’ characters are real in their faults, charming in their own ways of thinking about life and their feelings for the holidays, decorating and the town. Each man’s story will slowly come tumbling out , piecemeal, as one writes, the other puts the house in order, and their relationship grows.

It’s warm, like sitting next to a fireplace, chatting, learning about someone. It’s believable and grounded in small town culture and the strengths of that lifestyle.

My heart was easily invested and flowed with the story, right through to the end. So charming and wonderful.

Perfect for the holidays and one I’m absolutely recommending.

Goodreadshttps://www.goodreads.com › showThe Humbug Holiday by Lane Hayes

Description:

Two grumpy bears and a holiday season neither will forget…

Joe

So this sexy silver fox rolls into my small New England town and buys a run-down old house in need of renovation. That’s where I come in. My job is to do some basic repairs, so he can write in peace. Yep, the hotshot is a bestselling author, but that’s not why I recognize Cameron Warren.

No worries, I won’t let a one-night stand make things awkward. I could use the work, but is he seriously asking me to help him buy a Christmas tree too?

No way.

Cameron

I’m a good-natured guy all year long, but I have to admit…I hate the holidays.

There. I said it.

This season, I’m hiding away on the opposite side of the country in a picturesque village. My family isn’t excited about my decision, and the only way to assure them I’m fine is to deck the darn halls. Or hire someone else to do it.

The handyman might not be the logical choice for an elf, but his grumpy act makes me smile. Which makes me think the holidays might not be so “bah-humbug” this year after all.

The Humbug Holiday is a bisexual, age-gap romance featuring two grumpy bears who find unexpected magic and learn to embrace everyone’s favorite time of year!

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Universal Buy Link | Liminal Fiction | Goodreads

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