coming out

A MelanieM Review: Made in Portugal (Made In #1) by Ana Newfolk

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Rating: 4.5 stars out of 5

At 10 years old Joel was uprooted from his home and everything he knew in Portugal to start a new life in the States. At 26 he finds himself returning for the first time in thirteen years. So what if looking into the eyes of his childhood best friend again still makes his heart race out of his chest?

Living in sunny, laid-back Portugal isn’t all it’s cracked up to be. For David, dreams of being a pastry chef come second to working in his family’s café where his renowned custard tarts draw in the crowds. Seeing Joel brings old feelings back. Feelings he’s not sure he’s brave enough to acknowledge to anyone other than himself.

With the inspiration of an old travel journal, the two friends embark on a real journey through memories in a country where looking back into the past runs as deep as the blood that courses through their veins.

Falling in love was never meant to be a stop along the way, but maybe inevitable when you have the adventurous spirit and courage to pursue what you want, make love under the stars and even figure out how to jumpstart an old Citroen 2CV in the middle of the Alentejo countryside.

I really enjoyed Made in Portugal (Made In #1) by Ana Newfolk.   The author managed to bring the country of Portugal alive for me as a reader on so many levels while never losing sight of her oh so connectable romance between two best friends given a second chance at everything they ever hoped for.  The first in a series apparently, Made In Portugal takes us into the the dynamics and intertwined relationships of two families that has stretched over the decades.  It started in a village in Portugal where Joel was born to a Portuguese mother and an American  father, a place where he left broken hearted at age 10 because his parents had to move to the US, and is now finally returning at age 26 to lay their ashes to rest.

It is also the story of David, that best of friends he left behind, the one he shared his first kiss with,  The one whose mother was best friends with his mother and whose family has always been tied up  with his.  All of these families, all of these people await Joel and the reader when his plane lands.  And it actually begins at the rental car station.

The author starts to create an immediate sense of the familiar and homecoming for Joel and the reader when things go wrong with his rental car.  I  won’t spoil it but Newfolk’s ability to have secondary believable characters have meaningful interactions that leave you with warm happy thoughts of what will lie ahead?  Oh yes!  Then you know you are in good hands indeed.

This story is also about family, coming home, coming out, rediscovering love, taking journeys, and finding out exactly where your home lies….yes, all that.  And the author does a spectacular job.  The writing is smooth, the dialog realistic with Portuguese linguistic touches that makes you feel as though you are in the country, and the relationship dynamics work as well.  Its poignant, conflicted, and all family.

I felt I knew these men at the end.  And their mothers.  And truly all the rest of their family.  It takes everyone and a ancient Citroen called Ladybug to finally let Joel and David see their way to their HEA and their home.  But that journey they take?  It’s one you shouldn’t miss.  It made me want to take a flight to a place I haven’t been in years to soak up the sun, the love and laughter, the warmth and family that’s exuded from the pages of this story.  I know I can just find it  if only I can rent a Citroen named Ladybug.

Yes, I do highly recommend this story.  Grab it up now.

Cover art by Jay Aheer:  I like this cover, except only one of the models matches the  characters. Joel is blond  unlike David. But the colors and composition is lovely and bright.

Buy Links: Amazon US | Amazon UK

Book Details:

Made In Portugal is a 74000 word gay romance novel with a happy ever after ending.
It is the first in a series but can be read as a standalone.

Kindle Edition, 1st edition, 231 pages
Published June 1st 2018
Original TitleMade in Portugal
ASINB07DH27RR1
Edition LanguageEnglish
SeriesMade In #1

​Hans M Hirschi on his new release Returning to the Land of the Morning Calm by ​Hans M Hirschi (author guest post)

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Returning to the Land of the Morning Calm by ​Hans M Hirschi
Releasing date: May 21, 2018
Pages: Approx. 200, 67K words
More info: http://www.hirschi.se/the-books/morning-calm/ (buy-links, trailer)

Hans M Hirschi writes a new novel and bridges cultural divides between East and West.

Returning to the Land of the Morning Calm is the eleventh novel by author Hans M Hirschi. In it, he explores the life of an 84-year-old African-American Korean War veteran who is reminded by new friends of a man he once loved back in Seoul. As he thinks more and more about that first love, he begins to contemplate his life and suddenly wonders if he’s still alive. From there, the thought of actually traveling to Seoul to find out isn’t far… We asked the author a few questions:

Hans, you live in Sweden yet write in English, about an African-American war veteran in upstate New York…

HMH: Is there a question? LOL Guilty as charged. I can’t really say why Martin is a black man, I can only hope to have done him justice. As for the Korean connection, I think the increasing tensions along the Korean border last year somehow pushed a button in my subconscious. I have been to Korea in the past, on business and on vacation, and developed a special connection. It’s a beautiful country, an impressive culture, and the people are very kind and welcoming. It was interesting and helpful to go back to Korea just before the Olympics and follow recent geopolitical developments on the peninsula firsthand.

Martin is an old man, an octogenarian. Not something you read about very often in books. Yet this is the fourth time you’ve written about mature men. Are you obsessed with age?

HMH: Touché!?! I might just be interested in ageing, yes. I’m one of those
“mature” (odd word, but oh well) men myself. I’ll be fifty-one this summer, and all around me, the generation above me is thinning out. My grandparents are long gone, my husband and I have lost half of our parents, and the ones left are ageing rapidly and are affected by various ailments. So yes, ageing is on my mind a lot. Obsessed? I hope not.

On the other hand, as you say, there aren’t that many great characters who are older out there, and I think Martin’s story is both beautiful and inspiring. I think stories like his deserve to be told.

Returning to the Land of the Morning Calm tackles many different life aspects: culture clashes, racism, coming out, religious intolerance etc. Are you afraid you may have taken on too much?

HMH: I don’t think so. First of all, none of the topics you mention permeate the entire novel, but given that the story covers several decades, it’s inevitable for some topics to come up. Quite the contrary, I’d say it would be unrealistic to write about the gay world of the 1980s without mentioning the impact of HIV or to write about a black man in the U.S. without addressing racism and how it impacts the lives of the African-American communities. I think that the story simply reflects life, in all its glory as well as its darkness.

As for Korea, I think that most of us who do not live there or haven’t visited Korea know very little about it. I try to infuse a bit of knowledge about this beautiful country and show the reader a bit of its intricate culture. Once a teacher, always a teacher.

How did you do research for this book?

HMH: Most of my research, if not all, begins online, using the great resources available to us, from Wikipedia to niched blogs about trams in Seoul or sites dedicated to the Korean War. I use a lot of maps, images online, and I’ve been known to head to a library for books. Unfortunately, when it comes to non-fiction, libraries often carry old and sometimes obsolete books on certain topics. Ultimately, just as I had to last year for Last Winter’s Snow, I felt obliged to travel, and do research on-site. I visited many museums, looking for photographs of the war era, what the city looked like, but also how people lived back then, trying to get a sense of daily life in Seoul. I spent many hours poring over documents, talking to Koreans about life back then and now. I also had people read through the manuscript at various stages to make sure the story is a fair and realistic representation of the Korean people and their culture. While fiction, I find it important to reflect things accurately. I also spent a lot of time just walking through Seoul, taking in this metropolis, one of the biggest cities in the world, walking two marathons in four days. Interestingly, my days in Korea deeply impacted the story, not just the descriptions, but the plot and characters. For the better, I hope.

You call yourself a “feel-good writer.” Care to elaborate?

HMH: I have been looking for a genre to call mine ever since I began writing. My first published novel about a coming-out relationship was quickly adopted by romance readers. I never liked that label, simply because I never intended to nor actually did write romance. But in gay fiction, it’s impossible to avoid the romance genre, since it’s the dominant genre with over 90% of all published books belonging to that category. Most male writers of gay fiction who do not write romance struggle to be seen or to be

recognized for what they’re trying to achieve. Either because their stories are misunderstood, with readers only focusing on the romance aspect of the story, or dismissed because they don’t meet the expectations of what a real romance novel should be like.

That is true for my writing as well. I’m no romance writer. I explore relationships, not romances. I like to write stories that end well. Enough misery in the news. I like uplifting stories, but on the other hand, I try not to shy away from the darker aspects of contemporary (gay) life. Just because we can get married and start families legally (in some societies) doesn’t mean the struggle for true equality is over. It doesn’t mean that even those few of us fortunate enough to live openly and freely don’t have challenges to face. And for the vast majority of us, and the Korean example is indicative of that, marriage and openly lived relationships are still far from being a reality for most gay men.

To write feel-good, which is a widely used genre term in Sweden, despite the English term, simply means that you explore life but keep an optimistic outlook. You believe in the good of humanity and that things will get better. No light without darkness, and to see the light, you need to show people the shadows it casts. I may go darker than some, but my books always end on a positive, hopeful note. It’s why they call me the Queen of Unconventional Happy Endings. This is how I interpret feel-good, and I think it suits me well.

You mention Korea and the situation for the LGBT community in that country. Your book ends in a very particular way. Let’s not spoil it for your readers, but is there a reason why it ends the way it does?

HMH: Yes, and I don’t think I could’ve ended it differently and still remain true to Korea, which was important to me. I rewrote it at least three times and – unusual for being me – I wrote the ending early. It takes the current sociopolitical climate in South Korea into account, the developments in recent years, which are positive baby steps for the LGBT community, which include Pride parades etc. On the other hand, I also try to be mindful of the generational aspects, the fact that it is still a very conservative society, with a strong aspect of honor, particularly with regards to family. That’s about as much as I can say without spoiling anything…

One final question: your covers. They’re always so artful, so beautiful. Is there a message to them?

HMH: Thank you. I’ll make sure to pass your compliment on to my cover designer, Natasha Snow. I certainly like to think that we put a lot of thought into my covers, Natasha, my publisher and meI. Cover design is tricky. You want a cover that stands out among dozens of other thumbnails on Amazon, you want to make sure it’s not too

cluttered for the same reason, as most people first see a thumbnail, not the full-sized cover.

On top of that, I would like my covers to carry or convey at least aspects of the story. When I look at the final cover of pretty much all of my books, there are always details that will remind me of a particular scene. And that is my wish for my readers, to go back to the cover once they are finished with the book, and look at it again. This time, they’ll see that both the sunlight and, the scene in the foreground as well as the mountain in the background are significant with regards to some key scenes. I very much like this cover myself.

Synopsis:
“Martin is eighty-four years old, a Korean War veteran, living quietly in a retirement home in upstate New York. His days are ruled by the routine of the staff. In his thoughts and dreams, Martin often returns to the Seoul of his youth, and the lost true love of his life.
Two close friends urge him to travel back to search for that love. What awaits Martin in Korea, more than six decades after he left the country on a troop transport back to the U.S.?
Returning to the Land of the Morning Calm is a story of friendship, love, and family, in all its many shapes, across time, generations and cultures.”
Series: N/A, stand-alone
Genre(s): Contemporary fiction, LGBT, Feel-good
About the Author

I’m an author. I write books. I write about things that are important to me: family, parenting, children, our environment, our world. Contemporary, fresh fiction with unconventional, hopeful or happy endings. It’s what I like to read myself. I write because I don’t have a choice. There are so many stories in my head, constantly forming, constantly trying to get out. Feel free to have a look on the other pages to learn more, listen to me narrate from those stories, and – if you like what you see or hear – you can follow the links to buy them on e.g. Amazon.

I’m an author. But I’m also a fifty-year-old father who clings to the illusion of still being twenty-seven (my pen age!), despite my body’s daily wake-up reminders to the contrary. I’m married to the most amazing man, Alex, and together we have a beautiful four-year-old son, Sascha. I consider myself a citizen of the world, having lived on two continents and traveled extensively (a hobby) through another three. I have friends all over the world. When I’m not writing, I like to do public speaking or training (where I have my professional background). Oh, right, I do have a Facebook profile, too. Say hi. If it is of interest to you, have a look at my LinkedIn profile or our company’s website.

Thanks for dropping in, enjoy your stay and welcome back!

Hans M Hirschi

PS: You’re more than welcome to contact me. I don’t bite and I try to be nice to people.

New Release Blitz for On a Summer Night by Gabriel D. Vidrine (excerpt and giveaway)

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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

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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

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Release Blitz – Closets Are For Clothes (Dream On #1) by Addison Albright (excerpt and giveaway)

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Universal Buy Link
 
Length: 43,199 words
 
Publisher: JMS Books
 
Blurb
 

Mike’s life is carefully compartmentalized. He’s deep in the closet to his family back in Kansas, but lives life honestly and openly in Austin. He’s unnerved when Wes, his old university crush, turns up at his door in answer to a roommate advertisement, but quickly sees the potential…benefits of the arrangement. Wes has never doubted nor denied his sexuality. With the support of his family he’s an out and proud LGBT activist.


On the scale balancing his self-esteem on one side, and the love of his family on the other, Mike has to decide which weighs more. Is Mike being fair to his parents by not giving them the chance to know his real self? When the delicate balance of his life is disrupted, he decides he’s tired of living a lie. Will Wes understand his concerns, or will their fledgling relationship crumble under the strain of Mike’s uncertainty?

Excerpt
 

I walked down the narrow aisle with a book jammed under my arm and holding my carry-on bag in front of me as I focused on the labels for the rows. Due to the effect my nerves were having on my stomach, I was beginning to regret the meal I’d eaten during the two-hour layover in Houston.


I found my aisle seat, but it was occupied. Nobody sat in the window seat. This leg of my trip used a smaller plane—Wichita was hardly a bustling hub—and there were only two seats on either side of the aisle.


My shoulders stiffened, waiting for the request. My guess was he had a traveling companion, but they’d booked their flight too late to get two seats together. I’d be willing to trade, but I hoped it would at least be to another aisle seat. I wasn’t claustrophobic at all, but I preferred the freedom an aisle seat provided.


I stopped in front of my row and looked at the man, my eyebrows raised questioningly. He stood and stepped into the aisle. I opened my mouth, but wasn’t entirely sure what to say. He hadn’t moved on. He stood as if waiting to sit back down after letting me in. “I’m sorry.” I held up my boarding pass. “Apparently, there’s some confusion. This is my seat, here.”


“You don’t mind, do you?”


My whole body tensed at his tone. As if he simply assumed I’d switch seats for no obvious reason beyond he preferred mine. Which frankly—dammit—was likely to happen because I was non-confrontational and this wasn’t worth the fight. But it pissed me off that he wasn’t asking, acting like it was a done deal, and he didn’t even try to offer justification. He also had the kind of smile you see on people trying to sell you a load of crap, be it a used car or a dubious political position.


“Is there a problem?” The inquiry came from behind—a male voice with a polite but firm tone.


“No problem,” the man in front of me said. The slick politician smile that had come so naturally to him now seemed strained, or rather, a mild sneer supplemented it. “We were just switching seats.”


“Sir, do you want to switch seats with this gentleman?” the flight attendant asked.


“Gentleman” was a generous term for the jerk, but points for diplomacy. I was sure the answer was obvious. I’d booked an aisle seat because that’s what I preferred. But I imagined that wasn’t the real question. I wasn’t sure if the flight attendant would rather, like me, avoid a confrontation, or if he’d like to see the pushy bastard put in his place. I knew which I’d rather see if I were a random spectator, but I wasn’t.


“I’m willing to switch.” But I refused to say I “wanted” to. It was a cop-out, but it would be miserable enough sitting next to the guy for the next couple hours without adding the possibility of his simmering hostility to the mix.


I hefted my carry-on bag into the overhead bin and sidled across to the window seat. I sat with my book in my lap and stared out the window at the tarmac, hoping it was clear I wasn’t interested in making small-talk and wished to be left alone.


The man parked himself back in the seat that should have been mine, and the flight attendant made his way toward the back of the plane.


“Jesus H. Christ. We had it under control,” the man muttered.


Apparently, being left in peace was too much to wish for. As my dad liked to say, you could wish in one hand and—


“Don’t know why that faggot felt he needed to stick his nose in our business.”


My grip on the book tightened and I spun without thinking toward the man. “Excuse me?” My tone oozed with aversion. I didn’t try to hide my feelings, so I’m sure the incredulous disgust I felt at his use of that word showed on my face as well.


Was it Wes’s influence or was I more likely to stick up for someone else than for myself? I wasn’t sure which, but I found I couldn’t let that go without expressing my repugnance at his shameless and vocal bigotry. I didn’t even know if he was simply using the word as a general derogatory insult or if he’d assumed the flight attendant was gay because of his career choice.


His lip curled as a soft snort puffed from between his thin lips. “I said, I don’t know why that fellow felt he needed to stick his nose in our business.”


That wasn’t what he’d said. I hadn’t imagined it. But I wasn’t going to pursue it. If nothing else, at least he knew his prejudice wasn’t always going to be accepted when aired in public. The more people realized it was bigotry that needed to be hidden in a closet, not the targets of it, the better the world would be. Yeah, Wes’s activism was influencing me.


I turned back to the window, closed my eyes, and counted to ten before reopening them. This was the last thing I wanted to deal with on the flight home to come out to my parents. My gut was churning enough without this added stress.


I’d been rather proud of how I’d managed to push aside my uncertainties the past two weeks and return to being my regular normal self. Right up until it had been time to head to the airport, anyway. I’d studied Wes’s pamphlets, and Greg had taken a set of them home, too, so he could be prepared on my behalf. That alone had taken a huge share of the weight off my shoulders.


Even so, now that the big moment was looming, it took a concerted effort to not be that jittery guy on the plane that everyone kept an eye on, waiting for them to crack and brandish a nail file that had slipped by security. Sure, there was a good chance everything would be fine. But there was still a possibility that my relationship with my parents would never be the same, and there was a huge sliding scale of degree for that potential unpleasantness.


Would my dad react similarly to the man sitting next to me? Under pressure, faced with his son admitting to being gay after he’d spent years talking about how wrong he felt that was, would he crack? He’d never used that word—“faggot.” He’d never used any kind of derogatory word.


Thinking back, I knew Greg was probably right about Dad’s apparent angle during his campaign to convince me it would be wrong to be gay. It all boiled down to the motivations behind his efforts. Was it as simple as he’d convinced himself I was making a choice, and wanted the best possible life for me, or did he think there was something intrinsically wrong—sordid, contemptible—with being gay?


Would I lose his respect? His love? Would holidays forevermore be tense? Helen was on my side, thank goodness, but what if Dad were to become convinced that I couldn’t be trusted around her two young children? I shifted in my seat, trying to get comfortable, but it couldn’t keep my mind from picturing him mining for all his arguments from only websites that were biased against LGBTQI+ people and not seeking the truth from a fair balance of sources. If that was the case, then there’d be a good chance he’d bought into a lot of the bullshit they were peddling. The fact he’d held off saying the more disparaging claims didn’t mean he hadn’t read them and thought there might be something to them.


The plane taxied down the runway and took off, and I turned my gaze to my book. I’d brought Andy Weir’s The Martian because I’d read it before and loved it, and I’d figured I might be distracted, so it’d be best not to try to follow a new story.


I opened the book, read the first three lines with the character thinking he was “pretty much fucked,” and closed it again. I didn’t believe in omens, but that summed up how I felt. It was just a question of degree.

About Addison
 

Addison Albright is a writer living in the middle of the USA. Her stories are gay (sometimes erotic) romance in contemporary settings. Her education includes a BS in Education with a major in mathematics and a minor in chemistry. Addison loves spending time with her family, reading, popcorn, boating, french fries, “open window weather,” cats, math, and anything chocolate. She loves to read pretty much anything and everything, anytime and anywhere.


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New Release Blitz for Sweethearts by Gemma Gilmore (excerpt and giveaway)

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Title:  Sweethearts

Author: Gemma Gilmore

Publisher:  NineStar Press

Release Date: January 29, 2018

Heat Level: 2 – Fade to Black Sex

Pairing: Female/Female

Length: 62600

Genre: Contemporary, LGBT, YA, high school, friends to lovers, alcohol use, visual arts, coming out, teen pregnancy, coming of age, slow burn

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Synopsis

When seventeen-year-old Ingrid Harper realizes she may not have the talent to pursue a scholarship for the most prestigious art school in Australia, she turns to pink hair dye as a distraction.

Her new hair captures the attention of a fellow art student, Kat, who introduces Ingrid to the LGBT clubbing scene, and although Ingrid enjoys partying with her new friend, she becomes caught up in confusion about her sexuality. Her fear is overwhelming—she can’t think about anything else.

Until her best friend, Summer, reveals that she is pregnant.

As her best friend faces the realities of being pregnant at seventeen, Ingrid is shown the true definition of courage. It motivates her to come out about her sexuality—she likes girls. Only girls. Now she just has to work out what that means for the other areas of her life.

Excerpt

Sweethearts
Gemma Gilmore © 2018
All Rights Reserved

Chapter One
I am desperately trying not to attract attention.

My arms are folded across my chest. My chin is tucked into my neck. I am leaning against the brick wall as I watch her sing. It takes every ounce of strength I have to keep my face still, hiding any expression that bubbles to the surface. Any reaction I have to her lilting voice is shoved down, adding to the pit in my stomach.

The younger students are sitting respectfully in their seats. They are still too naive to question the teachers when they are told they must be present. I know better than to think that this school performance is anything special to Amber Freeman. She’s been singing since before she could walk, and although I am always the first viewer, her YouTube videos are gaining more and more popularity with every upload. This is just practice to her. A warm-up.

The spotlights are trained on her, and she throws her hands up whilst the climax of the song cascades from her talented lips. I let my eyes flicker shut and Amber’s voice surrounds me, caressing my ears as she sings deeply. Her voice is crashing through me, tingling across the skin on my arms and seeping through my body, calming me.

My head has fallen back against the wall, and I remain frozen there as I listen to her sing. In this moment, nothing else matters. With my eyes closed, she’s right next to me. Singing softly, untying the knot that’s sunken deep into that pit in the bottom of my stomach.

“Ingrid? What the hell are you doing?” The voice that hisses right next to my ear jerks me out of my daydream.

I jump with shock and wrench my eyes open, tearing myself away from the peaceful moment. In front of me, my best friend Summer stands, her arms folded across her chest and her eyes wide in that you are busted expression.

“Jesus,” I mutter. “I thought you had better things to do than sneak up on people. Way to give me a heart attack.”

“I thought you had better things to do than stand here creepily at the back of the gym listening to Amber sing,” Summer challenges me, an amused smile dancing across her full lips.

“You snuck up on me and you’re calling me the creep?” I snort. “Come on, let’s get out of here.”

The quicker I can get Summer outside of this gym, the quicker I can shove away the fact that she caught me watching Amber’s performance. We duck behind the last row of seating and out of the door in the corner of the room, swiftly ignoring the Emergency Exit Only sign. We’ve done this so many times now that it’s like second nature.

Outside, the rain lashes against the building. The wind howls so loudly that I’m surprised no one noticed our little escape from the gymnasium—then again, they never do. For Summer, there’s more to life than just sitting in a desk at school. Any chance my best friend has to escape the mundane restrictions of life is an opportunity she must take. She’s never been the kind of girl to follow the traditional paths.

Then again, neither have I.

My thoughts still spin as we duck through the car park and head out to the tin shed at the back of the school. Summer knew exactly where to find me during Amber’s performance. She knows that I watch Amber. While everyone else in our grade snuck off to make out in abandoned classrooms or smoke cigarettes behind the main building, I followed the crowd into the gymnasium with one intention.

Why did I need to watch her?

“I had a headache and the gym was dark.” I shrug off Summer’s curious stare as we take shelter under the tin roof. The rain really lashes down now, bouncing off the pavement and whipping through the trees. “It was better than watching you make out with Jackson for an hour straight.”

My snide comment is low but, right now, I’ll do anything to take the attention away from me.

“You had a headache, so you decided to listen to Amber sing?” Summer rolls her eyes at me. “Makes sense.”

She fidgets with her oversized tartan scarf, staring out into the rain. Maybe I’m not the only one who is trying to avoid things today.

“You were in there too,” I argue half-heartedly. “What’s your obsession with her?”

This time, Summer does turn to me. “I’m obsessed?” She snorts. “Ingrid, honey, if I’m obsessed, then you’re deranged.”

“Then I’m deranged.”

Summer rolls her eyes, signalling the end of that particular conversation. “Whatever. Your deeply disturbing issues are the least of my problems right now. Look, Ingrid, I think I’m going to have to take a test.”

Red splotches gleam against Summer’s pale cheeks, and I watch her carefully. She tugs on that scarf like it’s strangling her.

“Like an STD test?”

“Are you stupid?” I know her voice is harsher than intended, and I brush it off with a blunt laugh. “A pregnancy test.”

“Oh, for god’s sake, here we go again. You and Jackson really need to invest in some efficient birth control because this I’m pregnant freak-out that you have every month is getting boring.”

“Trust me, I know.” Her tone is suddenly tense, and she blinks back emotion. “But right now, I’m pretty sure I have the devil’s spawn growing inside of me, so I’m allowed to freak out. I’m two weeks late.”

I raise my eyebrows. She’s never been this late before. “Jackson is not the devil’s spawn. You know he loves you. But I highly doubt you’re pregnant. It’s all the stress from thinking you’re pregnant every month starting to get to you.”

“Yeah, okay, whatever.” She says, throwing her hands up in defeat. “I knew I shouldn’t have said anything. I don’t know what you’re moping about—we got a free class and you got to watch Amber singing. It’s a damn good day for Ingrid Harper right now.”

“Listen, I really did just have a headache. I don’t care about Amber’s singing. And you and Jackson were quite obviously distracted. You didn’t seem to have pregnancy on your mind during that public make-out session. Or maybe you did. Either way, I think it’s a damn good day for both of us, don’t you think?”

I know what Summer is doing. She is the ultimate denier of reality. More than that, she is aware that I will follow along with every topic change she throws at me. I get distracted easily, apparently.

Summer laughs, but the smile doesn’t quite reach her eyes. Distraction is inevitable right now, for both of us. These are not issues we should be faced with at seventeen years old. Summer’s mother is getting married soon, so that’s just one more thing to top off what I’m coining Summer’s Distressing Summer.

We stand silently as the rain pours over the sides of the flimsy tin roof. Muddy water pools right to the edges of the door. It’s mid-December. While politicians are throwing around the term climate change like it’s currency, I stare at the pools of water near this emergency exit, wondering if our town has sufficient flood safety plans.

“Come over tonight,” she murmurs. “Please, Ingrid.”

“You’re buying me McDonald’s.” I sigh in return. The truth is, I have my own things to worry about, whether Summer is pregnant or not. She’s been with Jackson for three years—that’s three years they have successfully been together and prevented pregnancy. It’s not a possibility. It just isn’t.

Summer is wild, just like her name. Her light-brown hair is constantly tangled, but her dominating blue eyes seem to distract everyone.

But today, she stares out at the grey sky and nervously chews at her lip, clutching that damn scarf so tightly that I know she’s already certain about this pregnancy. More so than I’ve ever seen before. Her blue eyes don’t seem so bright today.

“I heard Jackson was thinking about transferring to the art school. I didn’t think that boy had an artistic bone in his body.” I smirk, desperately trying to relax Summer. I don’t know what to say when she’s so shut off like this. My lie is smooth, slipping off my lips easily.

“Yeah, he does comics. I don’t know, I guess they’re funny.”

“It’s our last year of high school. Surely he’s left it a bit late?” I frown in earnest now.

What Summer doesn’t know is that I’ve known Jackson a lot longer than she has. I know that he’s been wanting to do art since he started high school, but his military-driven father would never allow it—he’s all about physical education, mathematics, and science. He used to drill that into Jackson every time I was around; none of this fairy fluff nonsense, he would say pointedly.

“Look, Ingrid, I don’t really want to talk about Jackson right now,” Summer snaps, finally releasing the titan grip on her checked scarf and running a frustrated hand through her frizzy hair.

“Do you even want me to stay tonight then?” I throw back. “I can’t deal with you when you’re being like this. Either let me in or let me go. I’ve got shit to do.”

To my complete surprise, Summer snorts as she turns to face me. “Just shut up and come and sleep over at my house. I need your brutal honesty, but I also need you to do literally everything I say right now. You know I’d do the same for you.”

I don’t bother telling her that to be in her position, I’d actually have to get closer than two feet to a guy, but I think she already knows that.

“Look, I don’t like that you called Jackson the devil before. I don’t care if he’s annoying sometimes, if you are…pregnant…it’s definitely not the devil’s spawn that could be growing inside of you. And that’s all I’m going to say about that,” I huff.

“Okay, I didn’t know you were Jackson’s number-one cheerleader, but whatever.”

“Yeah, whatever.”

Purchase

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

Meet the Author

Gemma Gilmore is graduated from university with a degree in Journalism and a passion for writing and travelling. In 2016 she was awarded a highly competitive residency with the Tasmanian Writers Centre. When she’s not writing YA fiction, she’s spontaneously booking trips across the world so she can draw inspiration from new cultures and places.

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Riptide Publishing Tour and Giveaway: Two Man Station (Emergency Services #1) by Lisa Henry

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Two Man Station (Emergency Services #1) by Lisa Henry
Riptide Publishing
Cover art: Natasha Snow

Read an Excerpt/Buy It Here

 

About Two Man Station

Gio Valeri is a big city police officer who’s been transferred to the small outback town of Richmond with his professional reputation in tatters. His transfer is a punishment, and Gio just wants to keep his head down and survive the next two years. No more mistakes. No more complications.

Except Gio isn’t counting on Jason Quinn.

Jason Quinn, officer in charge of Richmond Station, is a single dad struggling with balancing the demands of shift work with the challenges of raising his son. The last thing he needs is a new senior constable with a history of destroying other people’s careers. But like it or not, Jason has to work with Gio.

In a remote two man station hours away from the next town, Gio and Jason have to learn to trust and rely on each another. Close quarters and a growing attraction mean that the lines between professional and personal are blurring. And even in Richmond, being a copper can be dangerous enough without risking their hearts as well.

Available now from Riptide Publishing.

About Lisa Henry

Lisa likes to tell stories, mostly with hot guys and happily ever afters.

Lisa lives in tropical North Queensland, Australia. She doesn’t know why, because she hates the heat, but she suspects she’s too lazy to move. She spends half her time slaving away as a government minion, and the other half plotting her escape.

She attended university at sixteen, not because she was a child prodigy or anything, but because of a mix-up between international school systems early in life. She studied History and English, neither of them very thoroughly.

She shares her house with too many cats, a green tree frog that swims in the toilet, and as many possums as can break in every night. This is not how she imagined life as a grown-up.

Connect with Lisa:

● Website: lisahenryonline.com

● Blog: lisahenryonline.blogspot.com

● Twitter: @lisahenryonline

● Goodreads: goodreads.com/LisaHenry

Giveaway

To celebrate the release of Two Man Station, one lucky winner will receive a $20 Riptide credit and a package of Australian goodies! Leave a comment with your contact info to enter the contest. Entries close at midnight, Eastern time, on January 27, 2018. Contest is NOT restricted to U.S. entries. Thanks for following the tour, and don’t forget to leave your contact info!

A Kai Audiobook Review: One Call Away by Felice Stevens and Seth Clayton (Narrator)

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Rating: 5 stars out of 5

 
When a brutal attack from a jealous competitor leaves Noah Strauss, darling of the modeling world, physically scarred and emotionally damaged, he quits the runway to become a psychologist. Using his contacts from his time in the spotlight, he creates One Call Away, a radio show dedicated to gay men looking for love, advice or someone to talk to. But with secrets of his own and a mother who refuses to understand the career path he’s chosen, the one person Noah can’t seem to help is himself.

On a drunken dare from the senior partner’s grandson, Oren Leavitt calls Noah’s radio show, pretending to be gay. Only Oren isn’t certain if he’s pretending. He’s left his strict Orthodox Jewish upbringing behind, but the guilt remains. Guilt that his actions have prevented his sister from finding a husband and guilt that he’s failed his parents. Talking to “Dr. Noah” helps, and as he finds himself calling the man again and again, he knows he must be honest. But Oren is unsure if he’s lying to Noah or himself.

For Noah, trust is paramount; he’s been deceived in his personal and professional life and while he desperately wants to help Oren, he also finds himself falling for the sweet and tortured man. Oren is trapped: he risks losing his job and more importantly the love and security of his family but knows he can’t hide if he wants to be with Noah. When unresolved heartaches from the past rise up to control the present, Noah and Oren discover that love often comes from the most unexpected places, and sometimes a call for help not only saves a life, it can be a new and beautiful beginning.
 
 

OMG! this is such an emotional and amazing story!

Say that I loved this novel is an understatement. Really, guys, I can’t recommend this audiobook enough. So go there and listen to it. Like now!

 

The story wasn’t only about two men falling in love. No, it was so much more. It was also about struggle and fear of coming out. About acceptance. About being real and true to himself. About take help and help others. About family. And yes, about love.

Felice Stevens did an exceptional work in this book. And here’s a revelation: I had never read or listened to anything by this author before. Can you imagine how I am mad at myself now? I can’t believe I waited so long to get to know the work of this amazing author. Of course, now my TBR is even more crowded. Lol

In one call away we are introduced to Noah and Oren. Two great and well-developed characters. They both have been struggling with life. Noah was deeply emotionally affected by the brutal attack he suffered in the past. Oren lives a life where he doesn’t know who he is and when he finally face some trues, his love for his family and fear about their reaction hold him back. Together, the two men will help each other to overcome their fears and stand up for themselves.

 

 Noah and Oren’s journey is touching and gave me a lot of feels. I loved the friendship they developed along the story. The attraction they had was palpable and I was so cheering for them. They felt real and their story was so interesting that I couldn’t stop. Really couldn’t.

The narration by Seth Clayton was incredibly well done. He actually brought life to each character and made the story even more exciting. I loved especially his interpretation of Noah. The deep and sexy tone was just perfect for the character. I actually could identify each one of the characters by the voice, so you see how incredible Seth was in this narrative.

And look how sexy and emotional is the cover art by Reese Dante. I really liked it. And it fits the story perfectly.

Guys, I couldn’t love this story more. I highly recommend it!

 
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Audible

Audiobook Details:

  • Written by: Felice Stevens
  • Narrated by: Seth Clayton
  • Length: 10 hrs and 54 mins 
  • Unabridged Audiobook
  • Release Date:08-31-17