Apr 01

New Release Blitz: The Soulstealers by Jacqueline Rohrbach (Excerpt & Giveaway)

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Title: The Soulstealers

Author: Jacqueline Rohrbach

Publisher: NineStar Press

Release Date: April 1, 2019

Heat Level: 1 – No Sex

Pairing: Female/Female

Length: 90100

Genre: Fantasy YA, LGBT, Magic, soldiers, power struggle, spirits, Penumbra, slow burn

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Synopsis

Arnaka Skytree grew up believing she was chosen to bring new magic to the world. As the heir to the cult of druids responsible for keeping their floating palace habitable for the wealthy aristocracy, she’s expected to wield her power as those before her did: by culling the souls of peasant women.

But when Arnaka learns more about the source of her magic, and that her best friend’s soul will be harvested, she embarks on a journey to end the barbarous practice and to restore a long-forgotten harmonious system of magic practiced by the original druids. Along the way, she discovers she’s not the only girl chosen to restore balance to their world—many others have powerful magic inside, and with them, she will tear the floating palace from the sky so everyone can live in the sun—out of the shadow of the eclipse.

Excerpt

Soulstealers
Jacqueline Rohrbach © 2019
All Rights Reserved

Chapter 1
The Choosing

Flowers bloomed around Arnaka Skytree. Tiger lilies tickled her feet while orchids pried open one eye. Rose, the pricklier of the three, stuck her with one of its thorns. She puffed some air up in its direction, fluttering petals and her bangs. Late for her Choosing, Arnaka forced the insistent garden out of her mind, to focus on the currents of air traveling around her, picking out the magic radiating from the flowers the way her older brother picked out soldiers to die for him—delicately, decidedly.

Strong magic ran in her family. The ritual she had to go to was nothing but a mere formality. She would be a druid like all the other women in her family before her, down to the original matriarch—Arnaka the Creator—whose name she shouldered. She was bound to it the way her magic was bound to living things. Soon, it would be the last tattoo burned by magical fire into her skin.

Squeezing her eyes shut, she pressed her finger deep into the sifted dirt around her, begging the world to swallow her whole. The flowers, sensing her sadness, bowed their heads, but they couldn’t give her what she wanted. Destiny’s feet were too heavy for soft petals.

“Lady Arnaka? Are you here?”

Nara, one of her maids, stumbled into the conservatory. Arnaka felt the young woman’s life force before she opened her eyes to watch the bony girl blunder over the flowers, which recoiled from her steps, lifting their leafy underparts to avoid a trampling. Arnaka gave Nara’s approach a small, fond smile.

When she finally saw Arnaka, Nara jumped as if surprised. Her brown eyes widened, giving her the appearance of a deer about to be speared. “Lady Arnaka. Your mother wants you in the hall for the ceremony.”

“I know.”

“She sent me here to get you.”

“I assumed.”

“Lady Arnaka…” the poor girl prompted her.

Arnaka sighed. Nara, who was brought here as a servant and lived on the daily whims of her captors, had no choice but to play her role in today’s events. She wasn’t trying to drag Arnaka to the ceremony out of spite, avarice, or revenge. Doing her job without getting hurt was her only goal.

Pity softened Arnaka’s voice. “Of course. Tell Mother I’ll be right there.”

Nara hopped from one foot to the other. Voice barely above a whisper, she said, “I’m supposed to escort you, Lady Arnaka.”

Arnaka lifted her head and glowered at the servant, hoping the severe expression might be enough to send her on her way. Having company on the long trek toward the hall forced Arnaka to be strong. Really, all she wanted to do was run, hide, vanish.

You promised, she reminded herself. You promised you’d go through with this, and that you’d keep it from happening to anyone else.

With a wince, the servant tried again. “My lady, please. Your mother. She’ll—”

“Very well. Come on,” Arnaka interjected before Nara completed the statement with “punish me.” Hearing about her mother’s temper coupled with her propensity to harshly correct servants for slight failures would only twist Arnaka’s already knotted emotions.

“Thank you, Lady Arnaka.”

Said as if she had a choice. “You’re welcome.”

Banter wasn’t something Arnaka lavished on the silly, sweet girl. The walk down the hall was silent. Nara didn’t seem to mind the quiet, or notice. Newly employed, she occupied a world where magic was still magical. The diamond archways casting rainbows to the reflective surface beneath their feet dazzled. Gold shone. Ruby and sapphire mosaics sparked her brown eyes to flame. Tiredly, Arnaka grabbed the gawking servant, who tripped over her own feet as she ogled the spectacle, by the upper arm to drag her inside the transport.

“Ceremonial hall.”

In moments, they arrived. In front of them, the entire court gathered. Thousands of nobles, maybe more, in their best attire.

Her mother broke from the crowd and rushed over. “Arnaka, my daughter. You are radiant today.”

Both of them had black skin that always seemed moonlit and black hair that grew in thick waves. Her mother’s was always swept up into elaborate twists. Arnaka cut hers rebelliously short, letting her curly bangs cover her golden eyes, the pride of her family line. Look into your future mirror, the elder druids always liked to say, you are the spitting image of your mother.

Although her mother was undeniably beautiful with her high cheekbones and angular features, Arnaka’s pleasure in hearing about their resemblance waned. She didn’t want to be kin to a monster.

The swirl of Mother’s elaborate gown extended a foot or two in each direction. Mercurial as the woman herself, its folds, bows, frills, and ruffles shifted on whim in color and in style until she settled on a deep royal purple with a long ivory lace train that fluttered in the air like a cobweb in the breeze.

“Wasteful as always, Mother.” Arnaka pointed to the dress, to which she still made minor adjustments. Meanwhile, the living gathered around her looked wary. Druid magic required life, willing or not. “Glad you settled on something before the whole assembly was depleted.”

A few of the nobles glanced at their feet and cleared their throats but did not comment on the awkward exchange. Her brother puffed his chest. “Sister,” he bellowed, not unlike a braying goat. “We have waited for this moment your whole life.”

Lacking the refinement of magic, Escan’s features looked blunt and staggered as though whoever carved him had jittered uncontrollably during the process. Only his eyes, the color of golden flame that was his family’s legacy, rendered him attractive. Every girl wanted babies with ladder-climbing genes and nothing said advancement quite like the bloodline of old aristocracy. Otherwise, her brother lacked figurative magic as well as literal. He was doing his best to steal the moment despite it.

Arnaka looked at the assembly of aristocrats before her. Like her mother, they wanted all the religion with none of the sacrifice religion required. Servants were there to pay the life price for their magic. In a pinch, merchants would do. Who better to understand there was a cost to doing business? This was probably the first time in centuries any of them felt the intrusive pull of magic’s touch at their own doorstep.

Resigned to what was to be, Arnaka raised her voice to carry across the room. “I am here to bring new magic.”

Applause broke out. Arnaka winced away from it, hating the fact they clapped for her, for the evil thing they were about to do. You promised her, Arnaka had to remind herself again. You looked her in the eye and said you’d go through with this, then you’d keep it from happening to anyone else.

She’d been so focused on remembering her vow that she forgot the ceremony. The pain from the burning as her final tattoo, a small circle on her forehead, seared her skin surprised her. More than any of the other tattoos branded into her arms and back, it hurt with pain beyond the smell of her own flesh, beyond the residual throb of the wound. It foretold what was to come after.

As the smoke around her cleared, a young woman a few years older than her was escorted forward. Unnamed at birth, she existed to be Arnaka’s spirit sister until she became a soul familiar, forever bound to serve as an instant source of magic. But Arnaka knew her name, a deep secret between them that she’d sworn to keep. She held onto it even as the knife plunged into the young woman’s throat. She thought it when the soul heeled at her side—Hannah. Again when she went to bed with the thing looming over her shoulder—Hannah. Only once more after that.

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Meet the Author

Jacqueline Rohrbach is a 36-year-old creative writer living in windy central Washington. When she isn’t writing strange books about bloodsucking magical werewolves, she’s baking sweets, or walking her two dogs, Nibbler and Mulder. She also loves cheesy ghost shows, especially when the hosts call out the ghost out like he wants to brawl with it in a bar. You know, “Come out here, you coward! You like to haunt little kids. Haunt me!” Jackee laughs at this EVERY time.

She’s also a hopeless World of Warcraft addict. In her heyday, she was a top parsing disc priest. She became a paladin to fight Deathwing, she went back to a priest to cuddle pandas, and then she went to a shaman because I guess she thought it would be fun to spend an entire expansion underpowered and frustrated. Boomchicken for Legion! Follow Jacqueline on Twitter.

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LGBT, magic, Penumbra, power struggle, slow burn, soldiers, spirits
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Mar 29

Book Blitz: Fracture by Jocelynn Drake & Rinda Elliott (Excerpt & Giveaway)

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Title: Fracture

Series: Unbreakable Bonds Series #6

Author: Jocelynn Drake & Rinda Elliott

Publisher: Drake & Elliott LLC

Release Date: March 29, 2019

Heat Level: 4 – Lots of Sex

Pairing: Male/Male

Length: 71,000

Genre: Romance, Thriller/Suspense

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Synopsis

After three years, Snow and Jude’s relationship is still passionate and strong. They’re getting ready for a romantic vacation at home when Jude receives a horrifying call no one wants to receive. His youngest brother was found barely clinging to life. While Jude’s family is rallying around Jordan, Jude is determined to find out what happened to him.

Snow and Jude follow the clues, investigating a side of Jordan’s life none of them knew about…and is far darker than any would have believed possible. They get pulled deeper into the seedy side of life, while echoes from a past Snow thought he walked away from return to offer an unexpected insight into the cause of Jordan’s injuries.

But someone else has noticed their involvement and is furious, putting them both in danger. The risk is high but so is Jude’s determination to find the truth—though the knowledge could very well fracture his heart.

Trigger Warning: This book has a scene that some might find triggering, but the triggers are also spoilers to the plot, so they can be found at the front of the book.

Excerpt

Snow rushed through the emergency room with Jude. His heart was pounding so hard it was like he could feel it in his throat, threatening to choke off his airway. A sinister nagging voice in the back of his head kept repeating, <em>Three years, three years, three years</em>.

Roughly three years ago, he’d run into this same hospital to find one of his best friends on the floor, his entire world falling apart because his wife had been killed in what had appeared to be a car accident. And he hadn’t been there to operate on her. To save her life.

Melissa Ward had been light and laughter and happiness. She’d brought joy to all who knew her.

And Rowe Ward had been devastated to lose her. They all had been.

They’d nearly lost Rowe to his grief.

Now Snow was running through the hospital where he and Jude worked nearly every day. He was vaguely aware of familiar faces registering surprise and flashes of sadness as they passed by, but it didn’t matter. They stopped only long enough to find out that Jordan was in surgery and that Jude’s family was already in the surgical ICU waiting room.

“Snow,” Jude said in a low, shaky breath as they waited for the elevator to ascend to the correct floor. That broken sound gutted him.

He reached over and wrapped his hand around the back of Jude’s neck, pulling him tight against his taller frame. “We’ll figure this out,” he replied, forcing the words past the lump in his throat while telling himself that this was not going to be like Mel.

Jordan was a strong young man. Not even twenty-one yet. A good guy who loved to laugh. Definitely not the sort to seek out trouble. This had to be nothing more than him being in the wrong damn place at the wrong damn time. The doctors on call would be able to fix him up and get him safely on the mend.

But he couldn’t give Jude promises that he couldn’t keep or offer fake platitudes. Jude had worked as a paramedic for several years now. He’d been the paramedic first on the scene for Mel. He knew how quickly things could turn bad with nothing anyone could do to stop them.

“My brain won’t accept it. Not Jordan.”

“I know,” Snow said. “But he’s young and he’s strong. That works in his favor.”

The elevator doors parted, and they were quickly moving again to the large, quiet waiting room.

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Meet the Author

Jocelynn Drake and Rinda Elliott have teamed up to combine their evil genius to create intense gay romantic suspense stories that have car chases, shoot outs, explosions, scorching hot love scenes, and tender, tear-jerking moments. Their first joint books are in the Unbreakable Bonds series.

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Mar 25

New Release Blitz: A Symposium in Space by K.S. Trenten (Excerpt & Giveaway)

Filed under Book Blitz, Giveaways

Title: A Symposium in Space

Author: K.S. Trenten

Publisher: NineStar Press

Release Date: March 25, 2019

Heat Level: 1 – No Sex

Pairing: Female/Female

Length: 22700

Genre: Science Fiction, LGBT, symposium, symposium in space, love, matriarchy, decadent sci fi

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Synopsis

Phaedra and her lover, Pausania are invited to a dinner party. Only this won’t be like any party Phaedra has ever been to. Nor does Pausania want her to go. But Phaedra is determined, even if she has to find her own way to this symposium in space.

A fateful encounter with the spaceship of her dreams and the wandering philosopher, Sokrat, lead Phaedra to a unique gathering of individuals where thoughts of love are offered up…and consumed.

Excerpt

A Symposium in Space
K.S. Trenten © 2019
All Rights Reserved

One: An Invitation
The invitation resembled an eyeball.

A floating, pink orb drifted up to the open panels of Pausania’s apartment and fixed me with its lidless stare.

I froze, unsure how to react. An unfashionable citizen of the Intergalactic Democracy, I still ran around in a vest with pocket protectors, unfamiliar with the latest technology. The bobbing globe made me think of tales of magic from Ancient Earth.

“Phaedra, beloved of Pausania.” A melodic voice, filled with sly suggestion, came from the orb. “I’d be very pleased if you and your lover would attend my symposium in space.”

“A symposium?” I murmured, confused by the archaic word. It conjured more images of Ancient Earth, but this time of our patriarchal past. An era when those who looked down at you were referred to as patronizing rather than matronizing.

Such barbarism was behind us. A new democracy had spread out from Ancient Earth, across space, freeing women from their former bondage to male thoughts and ideas.

The only problem was this democracy was dominated by the wealthy and the powerful, just as too many societies had been in the past. They controlled the spaceways, spamming the universe with their advertising. Their shining, three-dimensional billboards and oversized spacecrafts were everywhere, dominating the skyline.

It was more than a little annoying.

“A symposium is nothing more than a dinner party.” Melodic and laced with sarcasm, my paramour’s voice floated into the room before she made her appearance.

Swallowing a sigh, I turned to face Pausania.

She glided into the room with a lazy grace, loose leggings swishing around her slender limbs. As always, she managed not to drag the tassels at the ends of them across her floor. The pants matched the fawn-colored blouse she wore. Tawny beads weighed down the edges of the tunic.

Pausania’s attire was usually a compromise between fashionable and comfortable. Her blouse complemented her auburn hair, falling in thick, luxuriant waves over her shoulders.

Those russet tresses were coarser than they looked. They still yielded to brushes, combs, or my worshipful fingers. Tiny strands of copper mingled with the auburn locks, giving her head a halo’s gleam.

It wasn’t natural. Very little about Pausania was natural. She still made everything about her appearance seem artless and unfeigned.

A pity the same wasn’t true of her personality.

She stalked toward the orb, carrying a wine glass in one hand. It tilted precariously, threatening to drip its contents upon her elaborately patterned rug.

This irritated me. I’d got her that furnishing, saved up my meager pennies from poetry readings and space runs to see that she had something special to adorn her apartment. True, she’d never shown more than a temporary admiration for its beauty, but her casual contempt was like a slap in the face.

“Phaedra has no interest in your shallow attempts to feed on her emotions, Agathea.” Pausania waved a hand at the orb.

“Agathea?” I swallowed at hearing her name.

Agathea of one of the wealthiest, most prominent citizens of the Intergalactic Democracy. One who could arrange to have my poems broadcast over the biggest billboards that glowed in major cities on major planets.

“The Agathea?” I asked for clarity. “The third-time winner of the Tragedy award? The one who funds and owns most worlds’ rights to the image of Aphrodite?”

“Once again, you’re showing your naiveté, your complete lack of any galactic sensibility.” Pausania glanced upward at the ceiling. Perhaps she was asking the ancient goddesses to give her strength. “There’s only one Agathea. No one else can use her name without incurring a fine as epic as her tragedies.” She smacked her slim hand against her forehead. “Next you’ll be calling life givers women.”

“Huh?” I opened and closed my mouth. “Why would I call women life givers?”

“You may call it a lack of galactic sensibility. I call it a charming display of innocence.” The orb throbbed in midair, quivering with hungry intensity. “Pausania, I simply must have the two of you at my symposium.” A slight note of menace entered the voice. “Do you truly wish to shun my company? I’m collecting guests exalted enough to impress even one as cynical as yourself.”

“Exalted isn’t how I’d describe your collections.” Pausania waved her free hand in languid dismissal. “You’re all about the latest trends. You never touch anything that questions or casts them in an unflattering light.”

“Ah, but would I be inviting Sokrat if that were true?” A sly tone laced with humor emitted from the mechanical device.

I wondered if Agathea had given it her voice. What projected from the orb was such a caressing, sensual tone. It rivaled Pausania’s own for the levels of malice it could deliver, wrapped in a disguise of courtesy. I wasn’t used to this level of complexity in a simple communicator, but I was behind the times. Or so Pausania kept telling me.

Perhaps she was right. I had no idea who Sokrat was.

Pausania did, judging from the way her eyes widened. “Sokrat? How did you manage to persuade her to come?”

“I believe she welcomes an escape from the affections of her overly enthusiastic beloved. Thus she will be honoring us with her presence at this gathering, along with Aristophania.”

At least I’d heard of Aristophania. Her webcasts were hilarious, although Pausania and others muttered that she was quite dated and stale in her routines.

“Sokrat and Aristophania.” What appeared to be an eyelid lowered in a coy fashion over the orb while regarding Pausania. “You cannot accuse either of them of being simply what’s trending.”

“No, I can’t.” Pausania lowered her hand to knot it into a fist at her hip. “Which makes me wonder what you could possibly want with those two cantankerous old life givers. Not to mention Phaedra and myself.”

“I plan to reveal that to all of you…if you come.” The ball moved away to hover in the open window. “I hope curiosity will temper caution.”

The orb moved away from the window, gaining speed when it took to the sky.

“Impossible woman!” Pausania growled, shaking her wine glass at the departing silhouette. Sure enough, red liquid spilled out of it. “Thinking her wealth and power are enough to lure you to one of her dull dinner parties, let alone me!”

“You just used the word ‘woman’,” I ventured. “Didn’t you just chastise me for saying that?”

“Of course I chastised you.” Pausania ran a hand through her hair in a self-conscious gesture. “We’re trying to get away from a past dominated by men in the name we use for ourselves.”

“Why use it?” I asked. “If you feel the word is wrong, why do you keep using it?”

“Because I can’t forget it!” Pausania slammed the glass into the wall, heedless of the broken shards. They sliced her hand causing crimson wounds to bloom all over her smooth skin. “Men have committed crime after crime, started countless wars, preying upon one another along with us. We should never forget that, especially when we start considering offering them citizenship in the Intergalactic Democracy!”

Ah, so this was what bothered her. The possibility of men being able to vote once more in the Democracy, to have a voice in public assemblies.

Official herstory (intergalactic schools no longer used the word ‘history’, just as they no longer used the word ‘patronizing’) taught young girls that the beginnings of our democracy started with the colonization of other planets. Many of these off-world settlements had been started by women, hoping to create separate cultures apart from the patriarchy we couldn’t seem to shake off back on Ancient Earth.

Men had started a terrible war, decimating a huge portion of the population. In the end, Ancient Earth had survived. Humanity, to use another archaic word, had survived.

Most of those survivors had been colonists who were already creating revolutionary cultures, dependent on the terrain of their individual planets.

Those colonists never forgot Ancient Earth or the lessons they’d learned from her suffering. Men became less and less a part of the new worlds rising in power and prosperity.

Doctors learned ways to cultivate and clone sperm from existing samples which had been carried from Ancient Earth. A brilliant young scientist created something called sohm, a substitute for sperm which could be used to create a fetus.

Women could hand over their ova to a fetus creche, where it could be grown in warm fluid filled with all the essential nutrients needed to develop it. This was a much more comfortable way of having a child than going through pregnancy.

I wondered if we hadn’t lost something in abandoning the rite of childbirth. I’d never known my mother, not really. I’d been raised by Timea, my mother’s assistant, and a number of maternal substitutes.

My own mother had been too busy to bother with me. Donating her ova to a fetal creche had been her way of being gracious enough to offer her superior genes to society.

When I turned out to have little ambition worth notice, my mother lost interest in me. Timea had remained in contact with me before she died from space sickness, one of the few illnesses the doctors of the Intergalactic Democracy couldn’t treat.

Losing her made me think more about life and birth, the value of both.

What would it have been like, to grow inside another woman’s body, being nourished by her, my heart beating inside her? It sounded terrifying, being that close to someone else, needing someone else so utterly and completely.

Perhaps if I had experienced such closeness, I wouldn’t seek it with other people. I wouldn’t need them so badly.

Perhaps I wouldn’t have been desperate for any kind of affection I might get from Pausania.

“Men might have done those things to fill the emptiness inside of them,” I murmured. “A child could never grow within their bodies. Maybe that inability to create life became a void they sought to fill.”

“Men saw women swelling with life, only to be eaten with envy at the sight?” Men were always the villains of herstory as far as Pausania was concerned. “Don’t make excuses for them. Nothing can ever pardon them for what they’ve made.”

“What about what we’ve done?” I glanced at Pausania’s hand. “Have you even noticed you’re bleeding?”

“What does that have to do with anything?” She looked down at her bloody hand with an impatient irritation. “They’re only cuts.”

“Cuts hurt.” I shook my head. “Stop acting like what you do only affects you.”

“How dare you…” Pausania trembled all over. She took a long, slow breath. “Why are you complaining? Have I ever been ungenerous? I’ve done a far better job of taking care of you than you’ve ever done, Phaedra. Your pitiful attempts at self-sufficiency wouldn’t even buy you a short essay on the net!”

I swallowed, feeling myself quiver all over at this accusation. In truth, I wished I was more independent. My skills hadn’t been very profitable.

“One thing you have been blessed with is an abundance of good looks.” Pausania waved a free hand to gesture to my head, hips, and legs. “You won’t keep that blessing if you allow a sour attitude to show.”

“If I allow a sour attitude?!” I balled my hands into fists. “You’re lecturing me about sourness?”

“Now calm down.” Pausania tapped her finger against her lips. “No need to get upset.”

“Oh, really?” My temper flared. I shook my fist at Pausania. “Look at you. You blame men, Agathea, me, anybody and everyone else for your unhappiness. Did you ever consider that it might be your own fault?”

“I…I…” Pausania stammered. Her eyes widened and her lower lip trembled. “How can you talk back to your lover like that? Have you no shame?”

“Have you?” I countered. “Guess where the concept of lover and beloved comes from? Men used to take boys as their beloveds, centuries ago on Earth. This whole notion of a lover guiding and dominating a beloved was theirs.”

“Not entirely.” Pausania bit on her trembling lip. A bead of red appeared upon it. “Life givers have redefined this relationship, making it—“

“—even more domineering if we’re an example of this.” I took a step away from Pausania toward the door.

Part of me wanted to turn back. Part of me wanted to take her bleeding hand in mine and kiss it. Part of me wanted to apologize, to offer anything that might soothe her hurt.

I was beginning to wonder if anything I did would ever soothe Pausania’s hurt. Perhaps the only one who could heal Pausania was Pausania.

I needed to step back and let her do so.

I stared at the archaic wood greaves in the portal to our home. So hopelessly old-fashioned. One of the things Pausania and I had in common was we both loved ancient, traditional things for all their connection with a patriarchal past.

Why did those connections have to be so bitter?

“I’m going to Agathea’s symposium.”

I didn’t turn around. If I looked into Pausania’s eyes, I might still yield. I could end up apologizing and falling into her arms. Again.

Not this time.

“I hope you’ll be there.” I laid my hand on the door panel, a bit of the modern amidst the archaic. Touch sensitive, it made the wooden barrier slide open. “For my sake, if not for your own.”

I stalked out of our home and into the world.

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I’m a California Bay Area author, exploring the borders of reality and gender to create new worlds and populate them with compelling characters. I live with my husband and our two four footed children, i.e. cats.

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Mar 25

New Release Blitz: New Boy at the Academy by Sam Hawk (Excerpt & Giveaway)

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Title: New Boy at the Academy

Series: Tales from the Academy, Book One

Author: Sam Hawk

Publisher: NineStar Press

Release Date: March 25, 2019

Heat Level: 2 – Fade to Black Sex

Pairing: Male/Male

Length: 79800

Genre: Contemporary YA, LGBT, YA, /1980s, Southern US, high school/academy, bullying, coming-of-age, coming out, homophobia, family drama

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Synopsis

Timmy had no clue that the first day of 10th grade at the Academy would rock his world. He thought it would be just like last year, with its endless bullying and recesses spent reshelving books in the library with his best and only friend Carleen. The sissy boy and the fat girl had bonded over their shared outcast status. But Carleen shows up filled with sassy confidence and declares they’re going to rule the school. By Christmas, the freaks and nerds would be the cool kids, and the mean girls and jocks would be the outcasts. Something had happened to her over the summer, but what?

And then, the two of them lay eyes on the new boy at the Academy. Doug has auburn feathered hair, veiny biceps, and green eyes the color of Sprite bottles. Plus, he’s come all the way from exotic Los Angeles, California. He rocks out to Patti Smith while Timmy loves ABBA. How does someone so cool end up in tiny, conservative Edgewood, South Carolina?

When Carleen immediately declares Doug a fox and her new prospective boyfriend, Timmy is shocked at his jealous reaction. He’s not supposed to like boys in that way, is he? Doug stirs up weird new emotions deep inside him as Timmy embarks on the adventure of his life. He and his hometown will never be the same.

Excerpt

New Boy at the Academy
Sam Hawk © 2019
All Rights Reserved

Edgewood, South Carolina

1980

God didn’t answer my prayers and bring the Rapture on Labor Day, so I had to start tenth grade after all. I stepped in front of the mirror to assess my new back-to-school outfit. I hated it. I’d begged Momma to buy me the alligator shirt from Belk’s, which really cost her a lot, but did it have to hug my body so much? I tried stretching it out, but it would only stretch so far. I thought I’d look like Tom Selleck with his big veiny arms. Instead, I looked like the Pillsbury Doughboy. I was trying to flex my chest when Momma walked in.

“Honey, get a move on. We have to be out the door in fifteen minutes, and you haven’t even touched your Pop-Tarts.”

“Momma, I think I need to change clothes.”

“What are you talking about?” she asked as she pulled and tugged on my shirt. “This is what you wanted. You look very handsome.”

“But it fits so close.”

“Timmy, I have told you time and again you’re not fat. It’s all in your head. You are absolutely average on the height and weight scale and exactly where you need to be at fifteen.” She patted my tummy, causing me to suck in. “You’ll lose that little bit of pudge in no time in gym class.”

My heart sank at the thought of gym class, and I almost lost my appetite for Pop-Tarts. Almost. Momma smoothed down my cowlick at the kitchen table as I bit into the brown sugar cinnamon pastry.

“Thank goodness you inherited the Ashburn hair,” she said. “Such a beautiful chestnut brown and such a noble hairline. It’s a sign of your aristocratic heritage, you know, on my side of the family. All the Ashburn men had beautiful hairlines. Thank goodness you take after me and don’t have your daddy’s stringy mess.”

I guessed my hairline was okay, but my new haircut was way too short. Daddy had taken me to get it cut only after Momma called him ten times to remind him. He and Momma got divorced when I was two, and it was always weird when he came by, which wasn’t often. Naturally, he took me to the awful old barbershop next to the pool hall instead of the new unisex salon in the Augusta Mall I was secretly hoping for. He told the barber to “buzz it” and then went next door for a beer. I managed to talk the barber into keeping a little length, but not much.

“Now go brush your teeth quick as a bunny rabbit,” said Momma. “Carleen’s mother called this morning and said her car’s not running and could I run by and pick her up for school. So, we have no time.”

Carleen’s house was across the tracks, and I knew Momma didn’t like going over there, but Carleen had been my best friend since kindergarten. Actually, you could say she was my only friend. She was the only one I talked to for hours on the phone at night; the only one I hung out with after school; the only one to ever invite me to a sleepover, which Momma had never allowed me to do since boy-girl sleepovers just weren’t done. I hadn’t seen her all summer because she’d been working at her grandparents’ peach farm. I was glad we’d be going to school together on the first day. I needed my friend with me.

We pulled in front of the house, and Carleen came right out.

“Good Lord, Carleen’s put on even more weight this summer,” said Momma.

Momma was right. Carleen had always been the biggest girl in class, and she wasn’t getting any smaller. I recognized her smock top from last year. A smock top was supposed to fit loose, but hers pulled in all the wrong places.

“Hey, Carleen,” said Momma as Carleen got in the car. “You sure do look pretty for your first day of school.”

“Thank you, Mrs. Thompson,” said Carleen. I waited for an eye roll, but she just smiled at Momma like she really believed it. I looked at her more closely, and there was something different about her. Was it confidence? If so, it was new. Was that lip gloss she was wearing?

“Hey, Timmy, did you hear we’re getting a new boy in our class this year?”

“No,” I said, dreading the addition of another redneck bubba to the roster.

“They say he’s from California and he’s real cute.”

“Really? California?” said Momma. “What’s he doing here?”

“I think his momma’s people are here. He’s related to all those Herlongs.”

“Does that explain the lip gloss?”

“Timmy, don’t be rude,” said Momma.

“I just wanted to look pretty for the first day of school,” replied Carleen.

“And you do,” said Momma.

When Momma pulled up in front of Patriot Christian, Carleen looked me square in the eye and gave me a big smile and a thumbs-up.

“Come on, Timmy. We’re gonna rule the school in tenth grade. Let’s do it.”

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Meet the Author

Sam Hawk’s fiction is inspired by his experiences at a private Christian Academy in rural South Carolina in the ’70s. He survived his Southern adolescence with his sanity relatively intact and went on to earn degrees from the College of Charleston and the University of South Carolina Law School. He also served in the U.S. Army as a JAG officer for twelve years. He resigned his commission when it became clear he was expected to persecute homosexuals as part of his job.

Sam then moved to Dallas, Texas where he met the man of his dreams and found his LGBT family. Sam and his husband have been married for over ten years and live with their Corgi and Chartreux cat in the requisite charming old house in a historic district where gay couples are legally compelled to live.

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/1980s, bullying, Coming of Age, coming out, family drama, high school/academy, homophobia, LGBT, Southern US, YA
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Mar 25

New Release Blitz: Conviction by M.D. Neu (Excerpt & Giveaway)

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Title: Conviction

Series: A New World, Book Two

Author: M.D. Neu

Publisher: NineStar Press

Release Date: March 25, 2019

Heat Level: 1 – No Sex

Pairing: Male/Male

Length: 103900

Genre: Science Fiction, LGBT, Space travel, aliens, politics, grief, interspecies romance

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Synopsis

A little blue world, the third planet from the sun. It’s home to 7 billion people with all manner of faiths, beliefs and customs, divided by bigotry and misunderstanding, who will soon be told they are not alone in the universe. Anyone watching from the outside would pass by this fractured and tumultuous world, unless they had no other choice.

Todd Landon is one of these people, living and working in a section of the world called the United States of America. His life is similar to those around him: home, family, work, friends and a husband.

After the attack on San Jose, Todd is appointed to Special Envoy for Terran Affairs by the nentraee, a position many world leaders question. Undeterred Todd wants to build bridges between both people. However, this new position brings with it a new set of problems that not only he, but his new allies Mi’ko and Mirtoff must overcome. Will the humans and nentraee learn to work together despite mistrust and threats of more attacks by a new global terrorist group, or will the terrorists win? Will this bring an end to an already shaky alliance between nentraee and humans?

Excerpt

Conviction
M.D. Neu © 2019
All Rights Reserved

“I believe this should be adequate.” Mi’ko checked his datapad to ensure all the proper requisitions had been finalized. He glanced around the room again with a pleased smile.

“Do you think he’ll enjoy living here?” Mi’cin asked.

They were here to inspect the quarters he had selected for Todd in the secured area of the speaker’s ship. He could have left it up to Vi-Narm or one of his other aides, but this was important and he needed to handle these details personally. Todd was important, and he wanted to make sure everything was perfect. Plus, it was an opportunity to spend more time with Mi’cin.

“Mister Todd Landon was adamant about staying in his own home and commuting, but it’s not practical.” Mi’ko ran a hand over the desk, then checked his fingers for dust. “And with the rise in protest against us across the planet, it’s not safe. Even though his government insists it is.”

“If you say so,” Mi’cin said. “He didn’t strike me as very logical after our brief meeting.” He went to one of the windows and opened it. “It would be nice to have quarters like this for myself. Does he need all this space? He’s one male.” He inhaled deeply and viewed the park below. “It smells like home. But it’s a replica, not the real place.” His nose crinkled.

“Mi’cin, don’t sulk. Our living situation isn’t that bad, and you are not a child.” Mi’ko put a hand on his son’s arm and squeezed. “I know you hurt. We all ache for our home, but these ships are our home, for now. It’s a pain we all share. By working with the humans, especially Todd, that pain and the loss of our home will lessen.”

Mi’cin’s expression fell. “Assuming the humans will work with us.”

“Please be supportive.” Mi’ko frowned. “I understand you have your misgivings, but please.” He inhaled, smelling the damp trees. “And since when have you not enjoyed the ship’s gardens?” He looked out to the woodland where several tall trees, paths, and waterways ran in countless directions.

The grounds were replicas of some of the famous parks on Benzee and her satellites. The ship’s builders gave as much space as feasible to allow people the chance to enjoy the open space. The artificial light that mimicked the day-night cycle of Benzee had gradually been adjusted to the length of Earth’s day.

“He does, indeed, have a better view than us, but that’s all right.” Mi’ko grinned and thought.

This new position for Mi’cin will help focus him. Give him a chance to interact with the humans and learn about them.

“A view of space would have been equally nice,” Mi’cin said, “but I doubt he’d be used to such a thing.” He turned back to the window. “Such a waste.”

“I assure you it’s not a waste.” Mi’ko ran a hand over the soft fabric of the chair. “Considering the nature of this position. Plus, I thought a view of nature and all the fresh scents would make him feel more at home. It will give him a sense of what Mentra Park was like.”

Mi’cin clucked his tongue.

“What?” Mi’ko questioned. “That was one of your favorite parks on Mentra. You made me take you there whenever we went to visit my parents. You loved the views of Benzee.”

Mi’cin said nothing.

“Mi’cin, please.”

“As you wish, Father.”

“I’d like to ask you to assist Mister Todd Landon to help him acclimate,” Mi’ko said. “It’s going to be hard for him at first. Even though he’s been studying our language and culture—”

Mi’cin’s sigh muted his father. “Of course. I’ll do my best. You have my word. Besides, isn’t that what your aide is supposed to do?”

“True, but this is the first time I’ve had an aide who’s my son.”

“Well, Vi-Narm can’t do it all, and your other aides are busy,” Mi’cin said. “I can use the experience, as you and Mother both keep telling me.”

“I can think of no one better to support me.” Mi’ko focused on his son. “You know, you’re both very quizzical, so you will be good for each other. I hope you can become friends.” He reached out and gently touched Mi’cin on the cheek.

A soft chirp came from the door. It opened to reveal Vi-Narm. Her tightly braided hair had a few wisps out of place; her breathing was heavy.

“Vice speaker, there is a problem with the Envoy position. General Gahumed, with the support of General Fanion, is calling for a special session in the council chamber.”

“What now?” The muscles around Mi’ko’s eyes twitched and the tips of his ears started to warm. It had been like this for several weeks. These continued issues with his own people were taking far too much of his time.

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Meet the Author

M.D. Neu is a LGBTQA Fiction Writer with a love for writing and travel. Living in the heart of Silicon Valley (San Jose, California) and growing up around technology, he’s always been fascinated with what could be. Specifically drawn to Science Fiction and Paranormal television and novels, M.D. Neu was inspired by the great Gene Roddenberry, George Lucas, Stephen King, Alfred Hitchcock and Kim Stanley Robinson. An odd combination, but one that has influenced his writing.

Growing up in an accepting family as a gay man, he always wondered why there were never stories reflecting who he was. Constantly surrounded by characters that only reflected heterosexual society, M.D. Neu decided he wanted to change that. So, he took to writing, wanting to tell good stories that reflected our diverse world.

When M.D. Neu isn’t writing, he works for a non-profit and travels with his biggest supporter and his harshest critic, Eric, his husband of eighteen plus years.

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Aliens, grief, interspecies romance, LGBT, politics, space travel
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Mar 22

Series Tour: Memory of Scorpions by Aleksandr Voinov

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The Memory of Scorpions series is a gritty military fantasy featuring a very diverse, very queer cast of characters. Political drama, court intrigue, love, loyalty, betrayal and a plot driven story line that will keep you guessing right up to the very end. The beautiful covers were created by Anna Sikorska.

Scorpion, Book 1

You learn your wisest lessons from your enemies. Assuming, of course, you survive the encounter.

Kendras is a casualty of war: injured, penniless, and quite possibly the last surviving member of the only family he’s ever known—the elite fighting force known as the Scorpions. When a steel-eyed stranger offers him medicine and shelter in exchange for submission and a secret task, Kendras has no choice but to accept. He is a Scorpion; he’ll do whatever it takes to survive.

But his true goal is to rebuild the Scorpions. Neither Steel’s possessive nature nor Kendras’s shattered foot can keep him from finding the last of his brothers… or the mysterious leader of the Scorpions, a man who held Kendras’s heart long before Steel tried to take it for himself. The goal is simple, the situation anything but. To rescue his leader and escape from Steel for good, Kendras must fight through a morass of politics and intrigue, where enemies are allies and even allies have hidden agendas.

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Lying with Scorpions, Book 2

If you lie with scorpions, you’d better have a taste for poison.

Now that Kendras’s lover Adrastes has claimed the throne of Dalman, Kendras is tangled deeper than ever in politics and intrigue. As the new leader of the Scorpions and Adrastes’s one true friend, he and his men stand between Adrastes and those who wish him dead.

And many do. Adrastes openly challenges the ocean priesthood for power while establishing himself at court and brokering with the realm’s various factions. He means for the Scorpions to become a fearsome legion again, but Kendras must first learn how to be a good officer and recruit to replace the fallen. His choices will determine the future of a group steeped in hundreds of years of history and tradition.

As both Kendras and Adrastes settle old scores, a new enemy arises in Commander Graukar, a war hero loyal to the old order. In his formidable mountain fortress, Graukar may hold the balance of power. But while Adrastes aims to either rule or destroy Graukar, Kendras finds himself doubting Adrastes for the first time, and sharing more with Graukar than he ever thought possible.

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A Taste for Poison, Book 3

Even the hand of a king is stung when it reaches for the scorpion.

After barely surviving an assassination attempt, King Adrastes is a changed man—one who mistrusts even his allies and friends. He readies his empire for war against an enigmatic enemy, the Elder of Vededrin, but not everyone approves. While courtiers dare only to whisper dissent, an outrider called Death foments rebellion in the mountains, aided by a prophecy that promises he’ll stop the Black King.

Kendras—former lover to Adrastes and leader of the Scorpions—is sent with his elite mercenary force to bring Death to justice. But when Kendras learns who’s hiding behind the mask, he must choose between his lover Graukar, newly appointed general to the king—and King Adrastes himself.

With no man to call master, the Scorpions could flee the danger and intrigue. But Kendras cannot abandon the man he once loved—or the man he’s growing to love—without first uncovering the real threat to the Empire.

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Meet the Author

Aleksandr Voinov is an emigrant German author living near London, where he works as an financial editor, writing coach, and complementary therapist. At 43 years of age, Voinov has written more than two dozen novels and published five novels with German publishers. After many years working in the horror, science fiction, cyberpunk and fantasy genres, Voinov is now primarily writing queer fiction.

Described as a “workaholic speed-writing freak” by fellow writers, a “creative writing class drill sergeant” by his writing ‘padawans’, Voinov is a self-confessed geek and has enlarged his days by 12 secret hours in return for the sacrifice of ten albino virgin pygmy hippos.

Voinov’s style has been called “dynamic to the point of breathlessness” and “disturbingly poetic” by publishers and literary agents. A recurring theme in his fiction is “the triumph of the human spirit” or an individual rising to challenge the status quo in a world gone bad.

Intellectually, he is drawn to the dark side of human nature and history. As a trained historian, he is fascinated by wars, religion and the conflict between the individual and society.

Interests at the moment include WWII, medieval siege warfare, William Marshall, the Golden Age of Piracy, and whale-hunting. These interests are subject to change from one day to the other, and Voinov single-handedly sustains two bookshops in London.

Public Contact Email: vashtan@gmail.com
Website: http://www.aleksandrvoinov.com
Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/aleksandr.voinov.12
Twitter: https://twitter.com/vashtan
Goodreads Author Profile: https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/3074905.Aleksandr_Voinov
Tumblr: http://aleksandrvoinov.tumblr.com/
Patreon: https://www.patreon.com/aleksandrvoinov
Newsletter: https://us3.list-manage.com/subscribe?u=0648aab5d3675b949f1329b38&id=eae6814f9c

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Mar 18

New Release Blitz: Time Taken by C.B. Lewis (Excerpt & Giveaway)

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Title: Time Taken

Series: Out of Time, Book Three

Author: C.B. Lewis

Publisher: NineStar Press

Release Date: March 18, 2019

Heat Level: 3 – Some Sex

Pairing: Male/Male

Length: 124900

Genre: Science Fiction, LGBT, science fiction, time travel, historical, action adventure, intercultural/interracial, bisexual, demisexual, British, Muslim culture, illness

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Synopsis

Time travel is a precarious business at the best of times, but when Qasim El-Fahkri’s mission to the past ends in violence, it has a ripple effect through every level of the Temporal Research Institute.

Rhys Griffiths finds himself caught in the wake of the disastrous jump, his own career uncertain. With the Supervisory Board breathing down his neck, operatives demanding answers to baffling questions, and life outside of work bearing down on him, his only respite comes from Qasim’s company. As the professional slowly becomes the personal, they must confront the echoes of their own pasts to try and move forward in the future.

But another past is waiting for Qasim, and there may be no coming back from this one…

For full enjoyment, it is recommended to first read books 1, Time Waits, and 2, Time Lost.

Excerpt

Time Taken
C.B. Lewis © 2019
All Rights Reserved

The rain had finally stopped. The cobbles gleamed in the hazy moonlight, dappled with the warmer glow from the windows of the houses. It was late enough for the streets to be deserted, and the marketplace was silent.

Booted feet tramped by through the streets.

Half a dozen Janissaries. Members of the Sultan’s elite guard. All armed with swords and guns. In better days, they would have been a comforting sight. Now, they were the reason people shuttered their windows and closed down their shops at night. With tensions rising across the city, it was better to stay out of their way.

In the shadows between the stalls, a dark figure crouched out of sight.

It wasn’t the best idea.

Less than three feet away, there was a broad gutter cutting through the road ankle-deep with the waste of the day. Even with the breeze from the Bosphorus, it stank.

A donkey turd bobbed by.

Qasim El-Fahkri made a face, leaning further back into the shadows and away from the gutter.

It was going to be a relief to get back to the twenty-first century, a time with better hygiene and less danger.

Something brushed against his shoulder.

Only a few years earlier, Qasim would have screamed like a kid, fallen over, or added a sample of his own to the gutter. Thankfully, he’d been on enough missions to know how to control himself, even if his heart was slamming against his ribs and he’d snapped his mouth shut so hard he’d gashed his lip.

There were no shouts and, whatever it was, it didn’t have fingers or a grip on him or a knife at his throat.

He twisted around.

A cat was standing on the cobbles, within arm’s reach, glowering at him as if he had mortally offended it for getting in its way. Standard cat, then. Relieved, he turned his attention to the soldiers. They were at the edge of the market now. He just had to stay out of sight a little…

The cat yowled.

Qasim whipped around. “Shh!” he hissed. “Please, shh!”

The cat either didn’t speak panicked human or didn’t care and yowled again. The soldiers weren’t leaving. Their footfalls had turned, coming back, approaching.

Qasim glanced around wildly. There were only two exits from the marketplace, and one of them was definitely not available, on account of the swords and the men attached to them.

The cat wasn’t shutting up either.

Some part of his brain must have been operating because he grabbed the sodden creature and shoved it down the front of his robe. It squirmed but, mercifully, didn’t remember it had claws. Qasim wrapped his arms over his chest and held his breath.

The footsteps came closer, paused, then moved away again.

Qasim exhaled, closing his eyes.

Too close. Far too close.

Cautiously, he slid closer to the edge of the market stall and peered around it. Between the other stalls, he could see the soldiers heading for the gate. All five of them were marching briskly, and he waited until they were out of sight, then slipped out from behind the stall and straightened up.

Maths. Bollocks! Always a weakness, but he’d never failed to count to six before.

The lingering Janissary—sneaky bastard—grabbed at him.

Everyone thought Qasim was cool in a crisis, which was frankly hilarious. He was the proverbial swan: majestic on the surface, paddling like mad underneath.

Still, there was always a bit of him that seemed to know what it was doing, and it dinged the man hard across the head, hard enough to send him reeling and crashing into the nearest stall.

The cover on the stall gave way, taking one of the support beams with it. The silence shattered as wood and canvas and a full-grown, fully armed man crashed down on the cobbles.

Qasim turned and ran. Behind him, the fallen soldier was yelling. There was some very vulgar Turkish in there, nearly beyond Qasim’s vocabulary, but enough for him to feel offended on behalf of his mother and goats.

The streets were a labyrinth—one he’d memorised as much as possible in the weeks leading up to the mission. Just in case, Dieter and Gulshan had both insisted, and as Qasim ducked down a passage and skidded around a corner into a broader alleyway, he wanted to kiss them both.

There was a wail from inside his robe, and the cat wriggled against his chest, but there was no time to stop or release it. “Shh,” he panted as he vaulted over a staircase wall and dropped into the alley below. He ducked under the stairs to catch his breath.

From the street above, the shouts of the men chasing him rang out.

For once, he appreciated the curfew. The drama at the Hippodrome had people on edge. It wasn’t official, but with Janissaries raising arms, people preferred to take refuge indoors. A political storm was about to break. No one wanted to be caught in it. It also meant no one would flag the guards down and let them know where he was. Problem was he was out in the dark with roaming bands of Janissaries and had a rendezvous point at least a half a mile away.

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Meet the Author

C.B. Lewis is small, Scottish and writes pretty much anywhere, any time. She loves to travel and tends to bring home at least four new plot bunnies from every trip she goes on. She’s very excited to continue the adventures of the Out of Time series.

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Mar 18

New Release Blitz: The Perfect Shine by J.K. Hogan (Excerpt & Giveaway)

Filed under Book Blitz, Giveaways

Title: The Perfect Shine

Author: J.K. Hogan

Publisher: NineStar Press

Release Date: March 18, 2019

Heat Level: 3 – Some Sex

Pairing: Male/Male

Length: 81600

Genre: Contemporary New Adult, LGBT, contemporary, new adult, romance, friends to lovers

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Synopsis

Jackson Meade was a shy, awkward kid just trying to survive a high school with too many bullies and too few friends. Now that he’s in college, his eyes have been opened to a whole world of possibilities, especially those regarding love and sexuality. However, he can’t enjoy any of it since he’s been separated from his best friend.

Blake Renault has been in love with his best friend almost since they first met. After escaping a bad family situation, he lived with Jackson and his mom for the last two years of high school, which made it much harder to keep his feelings a secret. Graduation brings lots of changes for the boys, including Blake moving to a different city to apprentice with a tattoo artist and Jackson going off to college.

Being forced apart after high school leads them to new revelations about themselves and their relationship. While Jackson questions whether his attachment to Blake is normal for best friends, Blake decides to risk everything and tell Jackson the truth. Jackson and Blake must figure out what they want from each other while the future of their deep friendship hangs in the balance. Will they find love, or lose everything?

Excerpt

The Perfect Shine
J.K. Hogan © 2019
All Rights Reserved

Jackson

Savannah, Georgia—2014

The foam ball made a blunt thud as it bounced off the drop-ceiling tiles above me. My dorm room was like an acoustic black hole—it pulled everything outside into it, then trapped it here. Every sound I made inside was muffled and dull, and every sound from outside came right to my ears, clear as a bell. It was maddening as hell, and not very conducive to productivity, but perfect for brooding.

It was my first week at Arden College. My first week alone… It had only been a few days since my best friend Blake dropped me off. He’d somberly helped me haul my crates of crap up the stairs to my brand new-old room. The elevators had been shut down because maintenance had believed the strain of carrying all the belongings of all the residents up and down in one day would cause them to break. So up and down we all had walked…grudgingly. Repeatedly.

Blake leaving had felt like my right arm being torn from my body. We were that close. We’d only known each other for a fraction of our lives, but Blake had lived with my mom and me during the last two years of high school, so we were rarely ever apart. And then graduation happened. And college.

I wasn’t going to go alone; I’d told him I wouldn’t. He’d begged me, and finally resorted to threats. Said he’d disappear and never come back, so I’d be staying for no reason anyway. I knew he wouldn’t do it, but it let me know how serious he was about me not fucking up my future for his sake. He could be stubbornly paternal sometimes, when it came to stuff like that—we’re working on it. So we’d packed my meager possessions into my too-janky-to-be-real pick-up truck and driven to Arden.

When we’d finally finished, and it was time for Blake to leave, because the school didn’t allow overnight guests during the first semester of a student’s freshman year. I struggled not to cry at first, but he’d just pulled me into one of his patented giant bear hugs and held me close while I sobbed all over his favorite Saints jersey. He was the only one in the world besides my mom who was allowed so close to me, who was able to touch me like that. And he was leaving. What would I do now?

Letting the stupid ball fall to the floor, I dashed my hands across my wet cheeks and cursed a blue streak that was promptly absorbed by the cinderblock walls. How the hell was I going to do this by myself, without my other half? I felt like I was slowly dissolving, becoming a shell of myself that drifted through life, waiting to be blown away by a stiff breeze.

Suddenly the thick walls of the tiny room felt like they were closing in on me. My chest constricted with claustrophobia, and I knew I had to get out of there before I went crazy. My data structures and algorithms class started in about an hour, so I could just leave early. I dressed quickly and threw on a light jacket before grabbing my backpack and bolting out the door. The thought of being inside the elevator made my skin clammy from imagined claustrophobia, so I took the stairs two at a time.

I practically spilled out the front door of my dorm, and it was all I could do not to roll around in the grass because I was so happy to be outside. I’d always had anxiety, but the claustrophobia was newer. I walked through the Arden quad, alone in a sea of students streaming down the sidewalks on their way to class. It was a different kind of invisible than I’d been in high school. Back then, I was invisible because of who I was, or more accurately, who I wasn’t, and how I just didn’t rank on the high school scale of importance—although I’d never quite figured out the criteria for that system. No, being invisible on a college campus, where everyone was doing their own thing, worrying about their own lives instead of what people were wearing or where they lived or who they were friends with, was wonderfully freeing. It was like I could finally breathe after being strangled for four years.

But I was still unbearably lonely without Blake. I wasn’t putting my whole self into this college-life thing because all I really wanted was to drive to Atlanta and camp out on Blake’s couch. The saner part of my brain knew I had to be responsible and shit, get an education so I could do what I wanted with my life. The childish part of my brain made me want to stomp my feet and cry. Either way, I wasn’t meeting people or going partying, all the things people expected to do at college, because I was spending all my time wishing I was somewhere else.

Lost in thought, I rounded the corner of the comp-sci building on my way to the front door, and I ran smack into someone. I fell hard on my ass and was showered with books and papers, presumably from whomever I hit. On the grass in front of me was a pretty Asian girl with shoulder-length, wavy, dark hair and a severe slash of bangs across her forehead.

And she was glaring at me like she could explode my head by sheer force of will. I hastily stood and held out a hand to help her.

“I’m so sorry. I was a million miles away.”

Once she was back on her feet and brushed off, I started collecting her books and papers. Then I noticed the spilt coffee seeping into the ground from the paper cup she’d been carrying—oh, hell, coffee foul.

“Shit, I’m doubly sorry. I’ll get you a new coffee,” I said, handing the stack of books back to her and silently wondering why she didn’t use a backpack.

When she took her things, I picked up the empty coffee cup and tossed it into the recycling, then stuffed my hands in my pockets and faced her. Though she barely reached my shoulders, she was kind of intimidating somehow.

She sighed and shifted her books to her left arm. “It’s fine, no harm done except to my caffeine level.” Her bright red lips turned up in a small smile.

“I meant what I said… If you’ll tell me where the coffee shop is, I’ll get you a new one.”

She glanced at the computer science building, then back at me. “You have class here?”

“Yeah, but I’ve got a little time.”

“Okay, we can go together. It’s this way.”

I followed her obediently, happy she hadn’t punched me for slamming into her. She was actually really pretty in a kind of nerdy, eclectic way, with her cat-eye glasses and baggy sweater over leggings that looked like paintings of a galaxy.

“I’m Jackson, by the way. Jackson Meade.”

“Daisy Chen,” she tossed over her shoulder. “Nice to meet you, Jackson Meade. I think we’ll be friends…assuming I’m properly caffeinated soon.”

It was kind of presumptuous of her, considering I hadn’t felt at all like making friends since I got to school, but I got the feeling it might happen whether I liked it or not.

“What’s your major?” Daisy asked as we walked back toward the computer building from the coffee stand with lattés in hand.

“Um, comp-sci for now. I’m not entirely sure yet. You?”

“Same, minus the indecision,” she said in a censuring tone.

I ducked my head and looked away. Who said I had to have everything figured out first semester of freshman year?

“So what class are you going to now?” she asked.

“Data structures.”

“Oh, me too! With Howell?”

“Yep.” Wow, I was a stunning conversationalist.

“I guess we’re in the same class then.”

I could feel her gaze on my profile as she studied me. It made me vaguely uncomfortable, like an animal behind glass at the zoo. My sweaty hands tightened on my backpack straps.

“You’re kinda cute…” she finally said, making me choke on my coffee. “We should go on a date.”

Who was this creature and why was she so embarrassingly direct? “Um…”

“How about tomorrow night?”

I tried to drum up some enthusiasm for finally being asked out, but all I could feel was that same empty ache.

“I can’t tomorrow. I have a… Well, it’s my best friend’s night off, and since he lives in Atlanta, we always talk on the phone when he’s off… I…sorry.”

She shrugged like she hadn’t a care in the world. “That’s okay. How about Friday night? We can go to the campus movie theater. It’s really cheap.”

I couldn’t think of a good reason or a polite way to refuse. “Okay. That sounds okay.”

“Don’t die of enthusiasm or anything,” she said in a voice as dry as toast, but she didn’t sound offended.

I laughed and opened the door for her, and we headed to our class. As we made our way to the second-floor lab, I wondered how in the hell I’d ended up with my first college date.

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Meet the Author

J.K. Hogan has been telling stories for as long as she can remember, beginning with writing cast lists and storylines for her toys growing up. When she finally decided to put pen to paper, magic happened. She is greatly inspired by all kinds of music and often creates a “soundtrack” for her stories as she writes them. J.K. is hoping to one day have a little something for everyone, so she’s branched out from m/f paranormal romance and added m/m contemporary romance. Who knows what’s next?

J.K. resides in North Carolina, where she was born and raised. A true southern girl at heart, she lives in the country with her husband and two sons, a cat, and two champion agility dogs. If she isn’t on the agility field, J.K. can often be found chasing waterfalls in the mountains with her husband, or down in front at a blues concert. In addition to writing, she enjoys training and competing in dog sports, spending time with her large southern family, camping, boating and, of course, reading!

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Mar 11

New Release Blitz: Breaking the Ice by K.R. Collins (Excerpt & Giveaway)

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Title: Breaking the Ice

Series: Sophie Fournier, Book One

Author: K.R. Collins

Publisher: NineStar Press

Release Date: March 11, 2019

Heat Level: 1 – No Sex

Pairing: No Romance

Length: 82100

Genre: Contemporary, LGBT, Contemporary, new adult, sports, ice hockey, teammates, rivals, draft, friendship, Russian, rookie, demisexual

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Synopsis

Sophie Fournier is the first woman drafted into the North American Hockey League. Playing hockey is something she’s done all her life, but she faces new challenges as she finds her place on the struggling Concord Condors. She has to prove herself better than her rival-turned-teammate, Michael Hayes, and her rival-turned-friend, Dmitri Ivanov, and she has to do it all with a smile.

If she’s successful then she opens the door to other women being drafted. She can’t afford to think about what happens if she fails. All she knows is this: if she’s not the best then she doesn’t get to play.

No pressure, though.

Excerpt

Today, she makes history.

As Sophie Fournier takes her seat among the other prospects and their families in the Denver, Colorado stadium, soft boos reach her ears. A glance at the large screen behind the stage shows the cameras are trained on her.

She keeps her expression neutral. Many of the athletes here blame her for the lockout that ground last season to a halt. The North American Hockey League had other things to discuss than whether or not women should be permitted to play, but she makes an easy target.

The boos grow louder, and Sophie squares her shoulders to absorb the abuse. This time, however, the cameras are directed at the Commissioner as he steps up to the podium at center stage.

Someone they hate more than me, she thinks as the Commissioner approaches the microphone. He’s a stout man whose face is shiny under the bright lights. His hair is greased and styled like a hockey player but that’s as close as he’s ever come to being one. He spends his days behind a desk and tells the players how they should act, how much they’re allowed to be paid, how many years they’re allowed to sign for and then demands they be grateful for his interference.

It’s no wonder he isn’t popular.

Her only crime is daring to be good at hockey. There were other paths she could’ve taken—the burgeoning NAWHL, one of the European leagues which already accepts women—but she wants the NAHL.

And she’s too talented for them to keep her out.

If it weren’t for the stupid rules, she could be drafted first overall today. As it is, the Concord Condors are the only team eligible to draft women. As a concession to team owners who thought the Commissioner stretched the limits of his authority by granting women access to the League, teams had to apply for co-ed status.

And because hockey isn’t known for its risk-taking, only Concord applied for that status. The consensus is they don’t have anything to lose. Everyone’s attention will be on Concord this season and the Sophie Fournier Experiment. If it goes well, then other teams in the League will draft women.

If it doesn’t, then Sophie will have the dubious honor of being the first, and only, woman drafted into the NAHL.

Seattle’s management files on stage to make the first selection of the 2011 draft, and she’s forced to listen as they select Eldon Carruthers. He’s a center, same as her, selected by a team in desperate need of a franchise player.

It could’ve been me, she thinks as Carruthers pulls on the blue and green jersey of the Seattle Seafarers. It should’ve been me. But another woman will have the honor of being drafted first overall. All Sophie can be is the first.

As Seattle files off the stage, Sophie sits up straighter in her seat, because Concord has the second overall pick at the draft. They’re a team in need of someone to step in and turn them around. She’s been a difference maker all her life. They’ll select her, give her a chance at her dreams, and in return she’ll bring them the Maple Cup for the first time in franchise history.

Martin Pauling, the owner of the Condors, leads the procession onto the stage. When he steps up to the podium, Sophie’s breath catches in her throat. This is what years of hard work have come to. This is the moment which makes every bag skate, every bruise, and every nasty hit worth it.

“With the second pick of the draft, we proudly select, from the Weston School, Michael Hayes.”

Sophie’s expression freezes.

Hayes?

They’ve been rivals for the past four years while she played for Chilton Academy, and she’s beaten him every year in the scoring race and in the playoffs. She’s better than him.

And Concord picked him instead of her.

Next to her Colby, her brother, nudges her knee, reminding her to breathe. She claps politely in case there are any cameras on her and reminds herself the day is far from over. Concord has a pick in the second round and two picks in the third. There’s still time.

Concord doesn’t select her in the second round.

They don’t select her with their first third round pick.

They don’t select her with their second one either.

The first day of the draft ends without her making history. There’s still tomorrow, she tells herself. It should’ve been today. Doubt creeps in, insidious and poisoning her thoughts. What if she isn’t drafted at all?

What if the production made of this draft has been part of an elaborate setup? What if all the media attention and hype focused on her has been to make an example out of her? Don’t hope. Don’t dream. Women aren’t allowed.

“Hotel,” her dad says, gruff, once the draft is officially over for the day.

Tomorrow, rounds four through seven will take place for a total of two hundred twenty-four prospects selected. She’s no longer sure she’ll be one of them.

“I’ll meet you there,” Sophie says. She stands and smooths imaginary wrinkles out of her suit. As much as she wants to wash off her makeup and mess up her hair and hide out in her hotel room, her responsibilities aren’t over. There are cameras to smile for and reporters to talk to even if the conversation they’re about to have is far from the one she was hoping for this evening.

She hugs her parents and then her older brother, clinging to him for an extra moment. Colby is the reason she started playing hockey in the first place. He’s a goalie and, like any older sibling, drafted her into helping him be better. He was the one who taught her to skate, shoving her feet into a pair of his old skates when she could barely walk. A couple of years later, he taught her to shoot then made her practice on him over and over.

She’s improved more than he has over the years, but he never resented her for it. He’s always been there for her, and he’s here for her now, steady and strong, lending her the support she needs to make it through the next hour.

“We could sneak you out,” Colby offers. “Just like old times, eh?”

More times than she can count, Sophie has put on a fake jersey and jammed a baseball cap over her French braid to avoid people after a game; the other team, pissed they’d lost, parents angry their sons were beaten by a girl, sometimes even parents of her own teammates who thought she was stealing the spotlight from their sons.

Sophie laughs and squeezes her brother’s shoulders as she steps back. “I thought we said no more of that.”

“Text me when you get back to your room, and we can watch shitty TV.”

It’s a sign of how rattled her mom is by the draft that she doesn’t scold Colby for his language. Sophie leaves her family to make their way back to the hotel before she takes them up on their offer to sneak her out.

She heads out to the concourse. During the season, this area will be full of fans looking to see the Denver Boulders play. Right now, it’s packed just as full but with prospects in suits and their parents and reporters being trailed by their cameramen and women.

The National Sports Network is the first to spot her. A man whose press credentials hang from a “NAHL DRAFT 2011” lanyard thrusts his microphone in her face. “Are you worried you won’t be drafted? In all the buildup, people forgot there’s no requirement for co-ed teams to have a girl on them.”

Sophie’s fingers hook in the pockets of her suit. She wants to shove them all the way in, to hide in whatever small way she can, but her mom’s voice echoes in her ears. Don’t slouch, sweetie. Stand tall and proud. You never back down on the ice, don’t back down off it either. And her mom is right. Sophie has faced guys trying to end her career with a big hit or a vicious slash to her wrists. A man with a microphone isn’t someone to cower from.

“I’ve presented my résumé to the NAHL. They’ve seen my video, my stats, and, like the other top prospects, I went to the Combine. There’s nothing for me to do but wait and see.”

“How do you feel about the Condors selecting your long-time rival Michael Hayes in the first round instead of you?”

“Hayes is a two-way forward who’s strong on the puck. He can contribute on the power play and the penalty kill.” Sophie leaves out how he always had an extra check or slash for her when they played each other. She doesn’t say she outscored him in all four years they competed against each other or that she won three Werner Cups to his zero while she played for Chilton Academy.

She doesn’t say how much it stings to see him picked ahead of her. She has the numbers to prove she’s the better player and she was still passed over. What more does she have to do to be taken seriously?

Carol Rogers from After the Whistle sees Sophie and hurries over, her cameraman in tow. After the Whistle is on following every Canadian broadcast to break down the game. Sophie grew up watching Carol interview players and dissect their games and point out how they could be better. She watched and she learned, adjusting her own game based on some of the things Carol saw.

And now Carol Rogers stands in front of her and asks, “Is it true Concord is exploiting how they’re the only co-ed team to draft you later than you were projected?”

Sophie, normally unfazed by the media, is caught off guard by the question. She flounders long enough that four other reporters flock to her, sensing a headline if not an entire story.

“I’m sorry, what?” Sophie asks.

Carol pushes closer, battling for space. “No other team is allowed to draft you. Can you comment on the speculation that Concord will use it to their advantage?”

Could they? Of course they could. Hockey is a business. Sophie’s thoughts threaten to spin away from her. She wants to cling to the hope being offered—they’re biding their time, she will be drafted even if wasn’t today—and she wants to stomp her feet at how unfair it is.

Instead, she smiles, bland and practiced, the expression giving nothing away. “I can’t comment on that. I’m not privy to the decisions made by Concord’s management.”

“You haven’t been assured of your place on the team?” another reporter asks. “It would be anti-climactic for the first draft with a woman to end without the first woman being drafted.”

“There are no guarantees in hockey. If you’ll excuse me, I need to head back to the hotel now. Enjoy the rest of your evening.”

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Meet the Author

K.R. Collins went to college in Pennsylvania where she learned to write and fell in love with hockey. When she isn’t working or writing, she watches hockey games and claims it’s for research.

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Contemporary, demisexual, draft, friendship, ice hockey, LGBT, New Adult, rivals, rookie, Russian, Sports, teammates
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Mar 11

New Release Blitz: A Harmony of Fire and Earth by Antonia Aquilante (Excerpt & Giveaway)

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Title: A Harmony of Fire and Earth

Series: Elemental Magicae, Book Two

Author: Antonia Aquilante

Publisher: NineStar Press

Release Date: March 11, 2019

Heat Level: 3 – Some Sex

Pairing: Male/Male

Length: 86500

Genre: Fantasy, LGBT, Romance, fantasy, trans, magic, elements, court intrigue, mpreg, demisexual, bisexual, royalty

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Synopsis

Prince Edmund of Thalassa and Prince Arden of Aither are eagerly anticipating their upcoming wedding, but the danger to their kingdom hasn’t lessened. They have a plan, but they won’t be able to carry it out alone: they need a strong wielder of each Element, whom they can trust implicitly, to carry out the magic.

Rhys is a commoner and wielder of Earth magic. He and his sister have made a living from the use of their magic for years and have become highly respected in scholarly circles, though he prefers a more simple life with his plants. When a message from Prince Arden reaches them asking for their help, they don’t hesitate. They stop only to request that Gaz, a strong Fire wielder and the man Rhys has long been enamored of, accompany them on the journey to Thalassa’s royal palace.

What no one knows is that Gaz was once known as Prince Gareth of Thalassa and is Edmund’s younger brother, long believed dead. He fled his home after his Fire Affinity made itself known and put him in danger, and he had no intention of ever going back. But he can’t keep himself from going to his brother’s aid, despite the risk of discovery and of the weight of his secrets potentially crushing his fledgling relationship with Rhys.

Working against time, they must find a way to come together in a magical working the likes of which none of them has ever imagined, or their homelands will surely burn.

Excerpt

“Your brother is alive?” The words burst from Arden without thought. Shock wasn’t allowing him to think.

Prince Gareth of Thalassa was alive?

And this wasn’t something Edmund had chosen to tell Arden before now? They were going to be married in the morning, and Gareth was Edmund’s younger brother, whom everyone had thought dead for years.

“Yes, he is,” Edmund said quietly.

Arden shook his head, more in disbelief than in denial. “How?”

Edmund glanced around the empty library, then back to Arden. “Can we speak of this in private?”

He wanted to protest, wanted to demand Edmund tell him now, but doing so would just be petulant. “All right.”

Arden took the time to gather up his things, leaving some books for the librarians to replace and taking the rest with him. His notes couldn’t be left lying around. When Edmund had found him, Arden had been doing research—as he had most days since Tycen had attacked Thalassa with magic, setting fires and menacing people along the border the two countries shared. He was determined to find a solution that would protect his new home, and the kingdom of his birth as well, since Tycen had begun doing the same to Aither. The army and the magic wielders on the border could do no more than hold back the worst of it, and too much was being lost to the flames. Until they could stop Tycen entirely, they needed a way to protect themselves.

King Torin, Edmund’s father and ruler of Thalassa, had tasked his magic wielders with finding a solution. Arden wasn’t counted among the group due to his position, but he’d studied magic his whole life—he could help. He’d found something he thought might work that very day. He still had a lot of details to figure out—more than details, really, but the theory was sound. What he already knew was they would need a strong magic wielder of each Element to perform it. Arden could take the Air portion, and Thalassa had plenty of strong Water wielders. An Earth wielder wouldn’t be a problem if Arden could convince one he knew to travel to Thalassa. The Fire Affinity was the problem, and that was when Edmund had shocked Arden by telling him not only was his brother alive, but he was a Fire wielder as well.

How?

Arden walked silently at Edmund’s side through the corridors of the palace. The attention of the people they passed registered only dimly—they always garnered attention. Shock and a creeping sense of betrayal might be fogging Arden’s mind, but no one would ever know—no one could. There could be no hint of discord or distance between him and Edmund for anyone to see.

He didn’t want them to exist between him and Edmund at all.

The silence was probably bad enough. He and Edmund were seldom entirely silent when walking together. People would notice, and they would talk.

Arden cared about the appearances—he had to—but he cared more about him and Edmund.

They passed the whimsical fountain that marked the entrance to the wing where Edmund had his rooms. It was tiered and tiled in mosaics of glittering blue and green glass. Arden thought it beautiful, his every glance showing him something new. If he wouldn’t look bizarre, he’d stand and study it, trying to tease out all the little details. The art of the mosaics, so common in Thalassa’s royal palace, was breathtaking. But this palace on the sea was so different from Aither’s airy, soaring castle perched in the mountains. If Arden thought too hard about the differences, about how very far from home he was, how unlikely it was he’d ever see the castle or the house he’d bought for himself again, his head would spin.

He wanted to be where he was—he wanted to be with Edmund, which meant being in Thalassa. Edmund would be king someday, and Arden would stand beside him as his consort. But it was best if he didn’t think too hard about leaving behind everything he knew. Especially because he wasn’t really—Ciaran and Larkin were here. The twins were his closest friends, outside Edmund now, and had always worked with him—his secretary, his eyes and ears, his spies. For the moment, the twins showed no desire to leave.

Aither would be a difficult place for them these days. Their uncle had betrayed Aither and all of them, conspiring with Tycen to attempt an assassination of Arden’s sister, the queen, and to frame Edmund for it. Ciaran had helped Arden rescue Edmund and fled with them. Larkin had followed them to Thalassa with her husband and infant son, and though Merrick was one of Hollis’s councilors, even he didn’t seem to be in a hurry to return. At some point, Arden would have to talk to them, but something always seemed to be more pressing. And, really, he wanted them to stay. He loved Edmund and already liked Edmund’s sister very much, but he wanted his friends—his family—too.

Ciaran likely wouldn’t want to leave anyway since he’d fallen in love with Edmund’s secretary, Peregrine.

Edmund opened the door to his rooms for Arden and followed him inside. Arden had been given rooms of his own, but he hadn’t spent a single night in them. From the first moment they’d arrived, they’d stayed in these rooms together—perhaps out of some lingering fear from their flight across Aither or perhaps just because they loved one another and they could. Perhaps both. The servants knew, of course, and some might talk, but Arden couldn’t bring himself to care, not about this one thing. After the wedding tomorrow, it wouldn’t be an issue anymore.

Edmund’s—their—rooms were comfortable and decorated beautifully in Thalassan style with patterned tiles on the floors and luxurious fabrics in jewel tones, mostly greens. They very much looked like Edmund’s too, but the first full day he’d been here, Edmund had told him they could change anything to make Arden more comfortable. To make this place theirs.

“Arden.”

He turned to face Edmund who stood a few steps behind him. “Edmund…your brother is alive?”

Edmund lifted his hands and let them drop helplessly. “Yes.”

“And he has a Fire Affinity?”

“Yes.”

“How?” Arden asked again. “There wasn’t even a trace of rumor. Everyone thinks he’s dead. And a Fire Affinity?”

An Affinity for Water ran strong in Edmund’s family, and the generations before Edmund seemed to do all they could to keep it that way, only marrying those with a matching Affinity. Some families were much stricter about the practice than others. A strong Affinity for Air ran in Arden’s family, producing Arden himself, but they’d married outside it in past generations, which had resulted in a few children with Water or Earth Affinities—none had ever inherited the throne, but that was more a matter of chance of birth order than anything else.

For Gareth to inherit a Fire Affinity, there had to be one in the line somewhere, and Edmund’s family seemed too rigid in their adherence to marrying Water Affinities to marry outside—Arden was certain King Torin would not have approved of Edmund’s marriage to him if not for the necessary alliance it would bring. And a Fire Affinity? Fire and Water were opposing Elements, and Edmund’s family traditionally had something of a prejudice against Fire, though Edmund himself didn’t.

So how would a Fire Affinity make its way into the bloodline? Unless…

Arden looked up at Edmund and bit his lip, unsure how to put what he was about to say delicately. “Your mother…”

Edmund raked a hand through his shoulder-length dark hair. “I haven’t asked her—I couldn’t ask her—but she and Father have been estranged ever since we found out what Gareth’s Affinity was.”

If the queen had taken a lover—who either had a Fire Affinity or carried the potential for it—it would explain how her second son had ended up with his Affinity. And why Queen Senara lived apart from her husband and the court, returning only sporadically to fulfill the duties required of her. “She might not have…maybe it came from somewhere further back in the line.”

Edmund’s smile was sad. “Thank you for saying it, but I think we can both agree how unlikely that possibility is, knowing my family’s feelings on the Fire Element.”

“It doesn’t mean it can’t be true. Perhaps the potential has been there for a long time and just came out with your brother. Perhaps it came from somewhere back in your mother’s family, not your father’s.” Arden’s instinct to comfort Edmund was undeniable, even with his own emotions still in turmoil.

Edmund shrugged. “I don’t know. She didn’t deny anything. She just acceded to Father’s wishes.”

Could she have done anything else? Arden had no way of knowing what the dynamics were at Thalassa’s court and within its royal family so many years ago; he’d barely begun to get a grasp of them now. “Will you tell me what happened?”

Letting out a long sigh, Edmund nodded. He went to a chair near the fireplace and dropped into it. The fire crackled cheerfully, driving back the chill of the rainy winter day. Snow was probably deep on the ground in Aither’s mountains, but here they’d only had icy rain so far. Arden crossed the room to sit beside Edmund in the chair that had become his—when they weren’t snuggled up on one of the couches.

“Gareth was thirteen when he woke up one morning and the ends of his hair were bright red.”

Arden blinked once, then again. No wonder Edmund thought Gareth might be powerful. In most people, the use of magic caused changes in hair or eye color, but in some very powerful people, the changes came first. Arden had looked in the mirror one day when he was twelve and seen the first icy blue-white streak in his copper curls; the magic had followed, and constant use of it had streaked Arden’s hair liberally. Edmund’s use of his Water magic had added threads of green through his dark eyes.

Gareth would have known what it meant—they were all taught what to expect; they’d all seen it on others—and he must have been terrified to see red instead of the green he’d expected.

“What happened?” Arden asked quietly, dread edging out every other feeling.

“He cut it off, but it came back almost immediately. So he did it again, and the same happened.” Edmund closed his eyes. “Then Father found out.”

The dread intensified until Arden was sick with it. “Edmund, what did he do?”

Edmund didn’t open his eyes. “He was furious. Enraged. But careful to keep everything among only us—Mother, me, Kerenza, and Gareth. You know what happened to Mother. But Gareth…when he realized there was no hiding Gareth’s Affinity, he locked Gareth away, put it around that he’d taken ill and then died. There was nothing any of us could do or say to change his mind.” Edmund went quiet for a moment. “I don’t know that he wanted to look at Gareth anymore.”

Arden swallowed hard. How could a father do such a thing? Even as he thought it, his more cynical side told him exactly how. “Where is he? Has your father had him locked away all these years?”

Edmund shook his head sharply. “He got out, escaped somehow. His bodyguard helped him, and they ran. I gave him all the money I could; so did Kerenza even though she was just a child. I wish we could have done more.”

The last sentence came out in a ragged whisper. Arden’s heart broke. He reached out and took Edmund’s hand, holding it tight. “Do you know what happened to him?”

“No. Father had a few trusted men search, but they never found him. I think they assumed he ran for the Tycen border. But he was going to go to Mother’s family first, hoping they’d hide him or help him.”

Gareth had been so young. How had he survived? Had he? Arden wasn’t sure he could have at that age, out in the world on his own when he’d only known the sheltered world of the castle. He hoped Gareth was all right, hoped his mother’s family had helped. Hoped Gareth was out there somewhere, alive and well.

“I can ask them if they know anything about how we can find him.”

Arden didn’t want to ask this. “If we can find him…will he help? I wouldn’t blame him if he didn’t want to have anything to do with Thalassa ever again.”

“I wouldn’t either. But I hope he still has some feeling for the kingdom and for me and Kerenza, if not our father.”

“And what about your father? What will he say if you bring Gareth back?”

Edmund looked at him bleakly. “I don’t know.”

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Meet the Author

Antonia Aquilante has been making up stories for as long as she can remember, and at the age of twelve, decided she would be a writer when she grew up. After many years and a few career detours, she has returned to that original plan. Her stories have changed over the years, but one thing has remained consistent—they all end in happily ever after.

She has a fondness for travel (and a long list of places she wants to visit and revisit), taking photos, family history, fabulous shoes, baking treats (which she shares with friends and family), and of course, reading. She usually has at least two books started at once and never goes anywhere without her Kindle. Though she is a convert to e-books, she still loves paper books the best, and there are a couple thousand of them residing in her home with her.

Born and raised in New Jersey, Antonia is living there again after years in Washington, DC and North Carolina for school and work. She enjoys being back in the Garden State but admits to being tempted every so often to run away from home and live in Italy.

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bisexual, court intrigue, demisexual, elements, Fantasy, LGBT, magic, mpreg, Romance, royalty, Trans
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