Guest Review: Regaining Trust by Nell Iris

When workaholic Lawrence Weller walks in on the aftermath of his fiancĂ© Frankie cheating on him, his world shatters. Frankie’s the love of his life, the only person he’s ever trusted, and the betrayal leaves him devastated.

Franklin Ennis makes a huge mistake he regrets deeply before it’s even over. He pleads for a second chance, willing to do whatever it takes to save their relationship.

A love that deep doesn’t just stop, so Lawrence agrees to try. But mistakes don’t happen in a vacuum. Are they both willing to own up to their part? Will their love be enough to repair what was crushed? Can trust once broken be rebuilt?

Reviewer: Annika

The opening of this book was brutal and heartbreaking. The raw emotions lay the reader flat.

Regaining Trust isn't your typical romance, and it's what drew me to it in the first place. In most books cheating is always the be all and end all of any relationship. That once someone cheated the relationship will always end, with all blame on the one who cheated. This book isn't like that.

We have Law and Frankie two men desperately in love. But life happens; Law is pretty much working non-stop and Frankie is getting lonely spending every evening and every weekend alone. In a weak moment he caves when someone gives him some attention – and of course this is when Law walks in.

What follows are Law and Frankie doing a lot of soul-searching, working and talking things through. There is so much hurt in this book, it comes off the pages waves. At the same time it's also clear that Law and Frankie really did love each other. They just got lost on their way.

This is one of those quiet books, on the surface there isn't much going on, a good part of it plays out in their apartment, between the two of them. Talking, crying. Healing. But that’s also what makes it so good, you see them fight for each other, they don’t hide from their problems but want to do what it takes to make it through to the other side – and being stronger for it. The beauty of it lies in its simplicity.

Regaining Trust isn't an easy or lighthearted read, but it’s well worth the dented heart. And even though Law might not agree, love really can conquer all.

A copy of this book was generously provided by the author in exchange for an honest review.

Release Blitz + Giveaway: Angels in the City by Garrett Leigh

Author Garrett Leigh and Signal Boost Promotions host today's release blitz for Angels in the City! Read more about the holiday themed forced proximity romance and enter in the Hometown Christmas eBook giveaway!


Cover Design: Black Jazz Design

Length: 63,000 words approx.


A fake relationship with a stranger. An office romance with doughnuts and white knights. An addictive arrangement—friends with benefits—fast turns to love.

Jonah Gray is rich, successful, and the most eligible bachelor in the city, according to his mother, at least. But the truth is, despite her efforts to pair him off, he’s fine on his own. All he needs is a date to the Christmas ball.

Sacha Ivanov is a lone wolf, content in the cycle of long days, late nights, and anonymous hook ups, but when a chance encounter in a broken-down lift brings a gorgeous copper-haired CEO into his life, everything begins to change.

As Christmas fast approaches, a favour for a stranger blooms into something more. He doesn’t do second dates or relationships. But for kind-hearted Jonah, his angel in the city, he might just change his mind.

Angels in the City is a Christmas themed MM friends-to-lovers, forced proximity, office romance. Expect fraught days, steamy nights, and true love built around festive snacks and Christmas trees.

Garrett Leigh is an award-winning British writer and book designer.

Garrett's debut novel, Slide, won Best Bisexual Debut at the 2014 Rainbow Book Awards, and her polyamorous novel, Misfits was a finalist in the 2016 LAMBDA awards.

When not writing, Garrett can generally be found procrastinating on Twitter, cooking up a storm, or sitting on her behind doing as little as possible, all the while shouting at her menagerie of children and animals and attempting to tame her unruly and wonderful FOX.

Garrett is also an award winning cover artist, taking the silver medal at the Benjamin Franklin Book Awards in 2016. She designs for various publishing houses and independent authors at, and co-owns the specialist stock site with renowned LGBTQA+ photographer Dan Burgess.


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Blog Tour + Giveaway: Turn by Erin M. Grillot

It's the final day for the Turn blog tour! Author Erin M. Grillot and Indigo Marketing share an exclusive excerpt from the debut contemporary novel! Read more about the suspenseful tale and enter in the $10 NineStar Press credit giveaway!

Title: Turn

Author: Erin M. Grillot

Publisher: NineStar Press

Release Date: November 23, 2020

Heat Level: 2 - Fade to Black Sex

Pairing: Male/Male

Length: 69900

Genre: Contemporary, LGBTQIA+, contemporary, undercover/secret agent, childhood poverty, HFN

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The responsibilities Nathan has taken on are sometimes daunting, even as he loves his job. Always ready to rise to the occasion, he is both respected and feared in the office and in the field. His rise to quiet power has shaped his very being, and he knows each and every move as he plots his days and watches over his agents. His life has shaped him into a loner, however, and that is never more noticeable than when Eli begins work in Department 5.

Eli is not the typical Department 5 recruit, and his cheerful and polite nature is both intriguing and off-putting to Nathan. But as Eli weakens and breaks through Nathan’s walls, they gradually embark on a path of discovery and a relationship that defies both of their assumptions. It is by times quirky and odd, sometimes a little rough around the edges, always a bit fragile. But secrecy, lies, plots, and executions are Nathan’s job, and life—and some habits are hard to break. Finally, the tension their work holds can no longer be contained or ignored, and it threatens to destroy either themselves or all that they’ve found together.

Turn is a story about power, tough choices, and strategic moves—of knowing when to sacrifice a piece in this ongoing game of chess, sticking by your actions, and knowing what the endgame is—no matter what the personal cost. Most importantly, it’s about life’s hardest lesson. Sometimes love isn’t all that you need, and the wants of our hearts aren’t always enough to overcome who we are and the realities of life.

Author Visit

Hi; my name is Erin and today I’m talking a little bit about my new debut novel, Turn, which was out November 23rd from NineStar Press. I wanted to share with everyone one of my favorite scenes from Turn. While there are a lot of them, the below scene is one that really spoke to me as a key point in Nathan and Eli’s relationship and an apt descriptor of both of them. I had fun writing the back and forth insight into each of them. It’s also a very poignant scene for Nathan and a turning point for him and the plot.

Exclusive Excerpt:

I learn a lot about Eli over the course of the weeks of lunchtimes in my office; it is easy to do. He is deceptively open and an enthusiastic conversationalist. I know he is good at hiding things, almost as masterful as me, but only when it comes to certain things, only when he consciously wants to. Everything else is readily available. Not only that, he goes so far as to offer it up. I want to ask him how—why?

The thought of that much knowledge, power slipping out terrifies me, locks me down. To watch it pass so easily and so often from between his lips continuously baffles me.

It is in everything he says to me, even the small pieces.


“I’m really close with Crissy, despite the age difference, always have been. Not sure if you knew this, if some random word gave it away one day, but we’re both adopted” comes out one day over chess.

I nod slowly. The way he talked about her and his parents had indeed clued me in. “I had wondered if one of you was. Hadn’t guessed that it was the both of you.”

“When I first went away to college, she was just turning two. And I didn’t want to leave her. I was enough of a homebody already, but she made it even harder to go. And over and over again that factored into every decision I made.”

“And every single one you didn’t make as well,” I add on, unable to help myself. Eli grimaces and looks away, but he nods, acknowledging the truth of it.


“I think that if I could get paid just to read all day, I would be in heaven,” Eli says with a sigh one morning as he delivers coffee for the both of us, looking a bit weathered and weary though it is only 10 a.m. and only Tuesday.

“So do it,” I say casually, despite the small and unexpectedly sharp tendril of fear that shoots through me at the thought he just might do it, might up and leave Department 5 and, therefore, me. Ignoring the thought, the possibility, is the only viable option. I blink to clear it all from my mind.

“Not much of a demand for it, not without other obligations, requirements…things I definitely do not excel at.” And Eli makes a face at that, half disgust and half self-deprecating.


“My favorite color is blue,” Eli announces randomly one Friday, a handful of moves into our weekly chess game.

“I simply don’t believe it.” My voice is deadpan as I take in his shirt, third blue one of the week.

A small chuckle escapes him before he responds just as dryly, “Usually when one person volunteers information, the other one reciprocates.”

I wave my hand in the air at him, feeling oddly good-natured; the sun is shining, it’s a Friday, I’m three pieces up in the game, and Eli is in my office.

“That’s for amateurs. You get four guesses. For each wrong guess, you lose a piece,” I say with a nod toward the game board. I may be three pieces up, but it is still close enough that this will tip the tides completely in my favor.

There is a moment of quiet, a calculating look from Eli before he nods slowly. He’s probably just lost any chance at this game, but the smile that inches onto his face makes it impossible to tell. Maybe he’ll surprise me. He makes a big deal of spending a moment sizing me up, dragging his eyes over my face, across my chest, and then around the room. His fingers hover over his rook, not quite touching. A smirk dances across his face as his hand suddenly changes directions.

“Pink,” he says with a wide grin, plucking a pawn from his side and tossing it to me.

I catch it easily, eyes focused on the piece. He’s playing with me. My gaze cuts to him, cataloging his relaxed stance and bright eyes. He thinks he’s going to win.

“Orange,” he says this time, another piece lobbed my way. He doesn’t have any pawns left and a handful of thoughts flash through me as his hands dance between his king and his queen, playful smile still on his face, eyes sweeping the board. His arms cross against his chest as he leans away from the board, settling into his chair, eyes never leaving mine. Suddenly, he leans forward, and his hand darts out, taking his king and sweeping it quite illegally in front of mine, knocking my bishop out of the way to claim that square. He tips my king over in a methodical yet flashy way, eyes still locked with mine.

“Mahogany,” he announces as he stands. “Checkmate.”

And he walks out.


I stare after him for longer than I should; it is just a closed door, it holds no answers, but I look to it as if it does.


That moment, that one word between us, made me realize the extent to which Eli and I had interacted, the extent to which I’d allowed myself to get close enough to reveal things to him. I’m not sure if I would have stated “mahogany,” but once he said it, there was no denying it.

That moment has altered everything in my perception of him.


Erin M. Grillot © 2020
All Rights Reserved

They often say you have to let something go, and if it comes back to you, it’s yours. For the longest time I believed that was bullshit—the worst damn advice ever given. That those words, like so many others, were just one of the many lies we would tell ourselves to convince us it’ll all be okay. Patronizing and empty.

Or, so I had thought.

But, sometimes, you give up your queen to protect your king even if it isn’t what you want to do. You may not get that piece back, you may be stuck with a pawn the rest of the game, but you saved your king. And in a game of chess, that can be the difference between a win and a loss; and in life, the difference between survival and death, happiness and apathy, success and failure.


A headache builds near the edge of my temple tonight—just an inkling so far, spurred on by the limits I seem to keep pressing and expanding. History has proven that it will blossom into a full-blown one by tomorrow. It means I haven’t been sleeping enough, and I’ve been squinting at papers and screens for too many days in a row. I should go home, eat a real dinner, and sleep, if even for a few hours, in my own bed. I also know, as I know many things, it is unlikely to happen, not at already half eight and after an unexpected phone call with an undisclosed, yet disgruntled French government employee destroyed my productivity earlier this afternoon. A small sigh escapes me as I rub the bridge of my nose and turn my eyes back to the file in my hand.

I jest about my job sometimes to myself, oversimplifying it to the hero-and-villainesque themes of a childhood comic book. A therapist might say it is a coping mechanism, which may be true, but if I think of it that way, then the real-life complexity doesn’t matter to me. I am aware my day-to-day decisions are more gray than black-and-white. The business of secretly making sure the free world stays that way isn’t a quiet desk job for the faint of heart. It is an unending mess of data and decisions juggled and balanced with ruthlessness, subterfuge, PR, and ridiculous amounts of coffee. A veritable nightmare some days, but utterly fulfilling in its endgame.

These last few years, I am rarely active in the field anymore, generally spending my time in either the planning or cleanup stages of the operations, hidden in some windowless office that justifies my lack of knowledge about the weather. But the past weeks, I have ended up involved in multiple side tasks that take me back to my beginning days here at Department 5. Side tasks that come with their own laundry list of issues. And while I thrive on it all, relish each time I tick something off a to-do list, close out a deal, solve an international incident, save a life, take a life—there is still a limit. I need a break, probably more than I realize.

Some days, I am not even sure what it is I do all day, what this job has made of me. There are papers and meetings, decisions and actions. I oversee budgets and tactile missions in the same sentence somedays, make war and peace on two different continents in the span of hours, make a decision about copier paper and which guns to supply with the same signature. I’m still damn good at my job, even when I don’t always quite know how to define it.

There was never an interview, at least not an official one. My title and job description don’t actually exist. I’ve been here edging toward twenty years now, and after years of missions and working my way through the ranks, it seemed to simply happen. There was suddenly an open office and a second bodyguard; respect and fear; John, my mentor, quietly slipping out of the picture. And it was never said out loud, possibly never even thought—all my door says on it is my name—but it was as if it didn’t need saying or to be written. It simply was. Someone always needs to be at the top.

Sometimes, though, sitting in my office late at night, I wish I could see a self-portrait of myself. Do I look as old and tired as I feel, despite still being in my midthirties? Is this suit the powerhouse I imagined when putting it on this morning? Are the worry lines showing on my forehead; how disheveled does my hair look today? The physical attributes I feel define me…are they noticeable, or is it my own inherent belief that these things matter that makes them so? My elbows crooked at a crisp ninety-degree angle, resting along the desk with my sleeves rolled, tie and vest still in perfect condition…is it the picture that I think it is?

Image—being seen, or not seen, as I want to be—has been an armor for me since I was little, since I first discovered what it could do for me. The first time I learned how to hide in the library, how to camouflage myself as belonging somewhere I wasn’t supposed to be, looking the part to get handouts, not looking the part to avoid the critical eye of the police or school counselor. Clothes, demeanor, actions, stance, pronunciation…all a part of the package perfected in many ways over the years. It is an everyday thing for me now and as intrinsic as breathing.

My mind runs through it all in the background, juggling to keep a million things straight and on their course as I scan through the proposal—an eighty-plus page document that should have been twenty. Flowery and overdetailed, the analyst has potential, but he’s too fresh, too eager. I’m forcing myself through the pages, jotting notes and underlining the key pieces that were relatively well done. It’s tiring, more so than it should be, but there’s something important about knowing your employees and colleagues and what their thoughts and potential are. I expect a lot of my employees, and they rarely fail to deliver, but I also teach them well. I’m a hard boss, but I am also a fair one. I work more hours than anyone under me, something I make sure of each week. I can’t expect it of them if I can’t do it myself.

A sharp rap on the door startles me, and I blink slowly. The clock reads eleven thirty, and another slow blink reveals the same. Hours have passed without my knowledge. Peering down at the papers still in my grip, I find myself on page seventy-two, same as when I’d glanced at the clock striking nine. I roll my neck gently. My headache won’t be the only thing bothering me tomorrow.

I stand as Robert turns the knob and eases the door open. He stands up fully as soon as he spots me, and the slight frown already on his face deepens.

“Ready?” he asks.

My eyes cast wistfully toward the stack of papers for only a second before I grab them, nod, and follow him out of the room and down the hall. He holds open the car door as I climb in the back, and as he pulls away from the curb, a small yawn escapes my lips. His eyes track to mine in the rearview mirror, but anything he thinks of saying is silenced by whatever he sees on my face. If it is enough to leave him off his mothering, it probably isn’t good.

Five minutes later, he pulls in front of my building, and the car crawls to a stop. The small light in the entryway is on, which means Robert has made sure someone is on duty tonight. Despite my tiredness and headache, the smile tugs at the corners of my lips, and it doesn’t leave until I hear the car pull away after I shut the door behind me. I climb the stairs and unlock my own front door out of muscle memory.

I loosen my tie and, for just a moment, lean back against the door, letting the faint feeling of home wash over me. It is a small moment, over almost as it begins, but it gives me the strength to change into sweats and not lie down on the bed, and to make notes on the remaining twelve pages of the proposal brief I’d been working through before officially calling it a night.


NineStar Press | Books2Read Universal Link

Meet the Author

Erin is a native Midwesterner who has spent her life loving words in all their forms. Turn is her first novel. She lives in Iowa with her three children. An avid wine lover, introvert, coffee addict, and nerd; most of her free time is spent with her children, reading, or writing. Find Erin on Twitter.

 Tour Schedule

11/30 Love Bytes

12/1 Never Hollowed By The Stare

12/2 Joyfully Jay

12/3 My Fiction Nook

12/4 Boy Meets Boy Reviews


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Guest Review: School & Rock (Arizona Raptors #5) by RJ Scott & V.L. Locey

When Colorado Penn finds an unexpected package on his front step, his life will be changed forever.

Colorado Penn is living the dream. Starting goalie for the Arizona Raptors when in season, lead singer for a hard rock band when summer rolls around. He’s the quintessential free spirit who’s making sure he enjoys all the carnal blessings of his athleticism, and gritty singing voice. Now the Raptors are moving into their first playoff appearance in years, but the arrival of an unexpected package means that hockey may have to take a backseat to something way more important. Instead of the usual undergarments from adoring fans, he finds a newborn baby with a small note tucked under her carrier, naming him as the father. He refuses to give up his daughter and is determined to be the kind of father he’d dreamed of having. But to keep Madeline, he’ll need help, and he’ll need it fast. Enter handsome emergency manny, Joseph. They may be opposites, but Colorado starts to see that Joseph’s stable, calm influence makes his chaotic lifestyle choices seem less appealing. There’s something about the man that soothes not only his infant daughter but also the wild child inside Colorado.

Joseph is one year away from getting his degree in planetary science, working cover shifts at the planetarium, and pulling in income with short term manny gigs. Stars collide as he provides emergency childcare for the wild man of hockey, a man who moves so fast through life that he doesn’t know how to stop. Homeless, and caring for his niece, Emma, fate brings Joseph into Colorado and baby Madeline’s life. Madeline is a sweetheart, and Colorado is trying his hardest to make the best decision for his baby girl. He offers his home and an indecent salary, to keep Joseph in his life until summer’s end. Colorado brings mysticism and metal to Joseph’s sanctuary of science, but somehow Joseph needs to tame this shooting star and create a family. Nothing in the contract said Joseph had to fall in love to make that happen, but when it’s time for him to leave, will the void in his heart ever heal, or will it remain as cold as space itself?

Reviewer: Shee Reader

Our story opens with the adorable but clumsy Joseph losing his job. The job he loves at the museum which helps him pay his way through college and help his sister (a widow with a young child) to keep a roof over all of their heads. When will Joseph ever catch a break, or even just get a job he likes that he can do alongside school?

Then, we met Colorado. A part-time hockey goalie superstar and part-time rock superstar who is living the life you imagine a young wealthy superstar to live. Sex, drugs and rock and roll, and hockey!

Then EVERYTHING changes in a heartbeat. Colorado has a baby girl left on his doorstep with a note proclaiming him the father. Since he is about to step on to a plane with his hockey team, the timing could be better. Colorado needs to win the match, find the truth of the baby’s paternity and find himself a nanny, stat.

Of course, our little romantic hearts are beating harder at this! Joseph is looking for work and has experience of child rearing. Could this be a match made in HEA heaven?? Yes! But, of course, the road to happiness doesn’t run smoothly.

On the day Joseph turns up to Colorado’s house to interview for the job of nanny, or rather manny, he sees the drugged up and hungover rock star and fears for the child. This is exactly what Colorado wants to see - someone who puts his baby girl first!

Their attraction is simmering and Joseph is afraid of what it means, or doesn’t and then his sister suffers another terrible blow.

This story is full of twists and turns, joy and fear and the HEA is full-on adorable. I absolutely loved it. So much that I will be seeking out the first four Raptors books to read asap.

I received a free copy of the book in exchange for an honest review.

Release Blitz + Giveaway: Ship of Fools by Sophia Soames

It's the final day of author Sophia Soames and Gay Book Promotions' Ship of Fools release blitz! Read more about the kinky Christmas tale and enter in the giveaway to win a signed paperback copy of Ship of Fools!


Book Title: Ship of Fools

Author: Sophia Soames

Publisher:  Self-published

Cover Artist: Aurelia Morris

Release Date: November 30, 2020

Genre: Contemporary M/M Romance

Trope/s: Finding love, Family Christmas, instalove, Set in the UK

Themes: This story contains descriptions of sexual roleplay and consensual violence, and elements of mild BDSM. 

Heat Rating: 5 flames       

Length: 50 000 words

It is a standalone story.



Buy Links - Available on Kindle Unlimited

Universal Link  |  Amazon US  |  Amazon UK




Andreas Mitchell is single, stupid and bored, and should have a good long think about the amount of bad life choices he has made lately. Instead he heads straight for the one guy he knows will become his worst mistake yet.

Luca Germano makes no choices at all, instead he lives quietly in the background, and prefers the safety of his own hand to risking his heart. And someone as pretty and fearless as Andreas Mitchell, is the last person on earth he should let into his life.

Especially at Christmas.

This is a work of fantasy and fiction. This story contains descriptions of sexual roleplay and consensual violence, and elements of mild BDSM, which are not intended to be taken seriously, or imitate real life. Please read with caution if these themes might trigger or upset you.

Find more stories from the fictional British town of Chistleworth, in Custard and Kisses (free to download from Prolific Works) and This thing with Charlie (part of the Winter Wonderland giveaway starting on Jan 1, 2021)


I barely finish that thought, before my office door opens. He doesn’t even knock, Luca Germano, before entering and walking up to me with determination in his steps.

“We are ready to deliver. I was just wondering if you would like to come down and look her over before I go home.” He grunts.

He’s wearing skinny jeans today, and a torn knitted hoodie. A speck of oil still lingering on his hand, and a polishing rag stuck in his back pocket.

“I trust you.” I say, taking the glasses off my nose, and placing them on the table in front of me. “The crew downstairs speak very highly of you. Thank you for helping us deliver on this one. I’m sure the car will be much appreciated by its new owner.”

I’m talking a load of shite, in a voice that belongs to someone like Mr Lambert. I do that, sometimes, when I speak with older clients. Try to make myself more mature, more sophisticated, and less of the twinkly brat I really am.

“Ahm…” He grunts, again. He’s a man of few words, Luca Germano. He still scares me, because he’s unpredictable. I can’t read him, not really. Sometimes he comes across as happy and carefree, at other times he seems almost terrified of me.

“Let me guess…” I tease. “Tonight you are working out, then you are going to go and have a nice glass of water at Club Eden. Am I right?”

“What?” he huffs.

“Yeah? That’s what you do, most weekends.” I giggle. I’ve immediately lost the stupid fake maturity. It doesn’t take much. Told you, I’m an idiot, and clearly a fool, because now Luca Germano is blushing and squirming, and looking at me like I’ve lost my mind.

“Why would you say that?” He huffs out, suddenly back to being annoyed with me. Then he looks scared, breathing too heavily, running his greased hand through his cropped hair. He’s had it cut again. I bet it’s soft against his fingers.

I’m clearly losing my touch here, and I need a break. Luca Germano turned me down for a simple reason. He’s probably gay, because most people frequenting Club Eden, are… gay. Since it’s a gay club. Yet, I’m feeling less confident by the second here, sat behind my desk being... frankly, both rude and stupid with one of our freelance tech crew. Because I know what I am doing, I’m flirting, and why the hell I am flirting with him, of all people? I don’t understand myself anymore. Well, I do. He’s handsome, in a rugged way. A little bit scary, because the man clearly works out and is both tall, fit and muscular. The kind of man with big hands that would toss me around a bed with ease and completely dominate in the bedroom. He’s also staring at me like I have two heads.

Note to self, also the kind of man I should avoid, because I usually end up in a state like last weekend. Do I take any notice? No. Here I go again.

“You usually spend the evening stalking me around the club, and staring at me.” It’s a little bit of a lie, but I’m smiling and batting my eyelashes. I’m giving the guy a chance here. I wouldn’t mind a hookup with him. I would even let him do me, like a little good pick-me-up.

“Look, mate.” He says again, with surprising strength, as he walks up to my desk and leans his knuckles on the top. Leaning over me and staring at me with an intensity that scares me. I actually shuffle my chair an inch backwards, because... Yeah. Intense.

“Don’t mess around with me, I’m not into all that.” He’s serious too, enough for me to feel intimidated.

“Mate, it’s an invitation to fuck, not a bloody job interview.” I nip back, trying to blow my chest up like a bloody baboon. I’m not impressive, I realise that, as he smirks at me.

“Just leave it. Not interested.” He huffs. I just laugh, because as he stands back, he turns around far too quickly for a man not interested. He’s also sporting a semi in his jeans, unless he’s hung like a horse. He’s probably hung, but that bulge...?

“Look, Luke.” I try, but he cuts me off.

“Luca. Not Luke.”

“Luca, my bad.” I try a smile, but he doesn’t take the bait. Just stares, like he does. Maybe it’s just his thing, and perhaps I have read all this wrong from the start.

“I go to Eden for a drink at the weekend, because my best mate from school mans the bar. That’s why I go there. I hang out and shoot the shit with a guy who I have known since I was three. Is that clear?” He’s pissed off, and now he’s frightening me. Just a little. In a good way.

“Crystal.” I nip back.

“I’m not interested in being one of your fuckbuddies, okay? So leave it. I’m very happy to work for you, and you have a great team downstairs, so if you have a project you need me for? Ring me. If not? Then I hope you have a great Christmas... and all that.”

He’s lost his steam at the end, clearly not holding a planned-out speech. He would never make a salesman, because now he is twirling around in a circle again, almost tripping over his own feet as he walks out of my office, leaving the door wide open behind him.

I don’t go down and check out the car. I probably should, before the handover to the new owner this afternoon. I should probably be there to sign it off. Instead I lean back in my chair and let my eyes close. Just for a second to calm myself down.

What on earth am I doing? That? That display of complete and sheer unprofessionalism was ... staggeringly stupid. I could lose my job. It could be seen as harassment, on a grand scale. I need to stop, whatever it is I think I am doing.

In any case, I need to go home, grow up and grow a bloody brain, because the one I have at the moment? It’s fried.

About the Author 

Sophia Soames should be old enough to know better but has barely grown up. She has been known to fangirl over tv-shows, has fallen in and out of love with more popstars than she dares to remember, and has a ridiculously high-flying (un-)glamorous real-life job. 

Her long-suffering husband just laughs at her antics. Their children are feral. The Au Pair just sighs. 

She lives in a creaky old house in rural London, although her heart is still in Scandinavia. 

Discovering that the stories in her head make sense when written down has been part of the most hilarious midlife crisis ever and she hopes it may long continue.

Find me on social media @sophiasoames on all platforms.

Aurelia Morris is a cover artist, photographer, photoshop wiz and eternal fangirl. 

She works in many mediums under more aliases that she can keep track of. 



Social Media Links 

Facebook Group: Sophia Soames’ Little Harbour  |  Twitter  |  Instagram 



Free short story: Custard and Kisses on Prolific Works

Find Charlie’s story in This Thing with Charlie, set in the same universe

as part of the Winter Wonderland Giveaway on Prolific Works, coming Jan. 1, 2021

Join Sophia Soames’ Little Harbour Facebook group

for a chance to win a signed paperback of Ship of Fools.

Not on Facebook? To win a signed paperback copy of Ship of Fools, just enter here!


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Release Blitz + Giveaway: A Christmas Break by Annabelle Jacobs

Christmastime and lusting for your brother's best friend sounds like a recipe for a good time! See author Annabelle Jacobs and Signal Boost Promotions release blitz for A Christmas Break! Check it out and enter in the backlist eBook giveaway!


Cover Design: Natasha Snow

Length: 54,000 words approx.

Christmas is a time for giving, not lusting after your brother’s best mate.

Finn’s never had the Christmas of his dreams, and this year isn’t shaping up to be much better. Then he rents his spare room out to Jasper, and life begins to look up.

Laid back Jasper is nothing like Finn expects. He’s hot, sweet, and easy to talk to. Finn could easily fall for him. But, he’s his brother’s best friend. He’s off limits, and Finn would never break that sacred rule...right?

Jasper’s carried a torch for his best mate’s brother for years. Living with him sparks an old flame to light, and the more time they spend together, the brighter it burns. Finn is gorgeous and kind. He’s everything Jasper has ever wanted.

But he’s also scarred by old wounds, and reluctant to let his guard down again. Friendship blooms, and for a short while, it’s enough. But the fire between them is undeniable. Finn can fight it as much as he likes.

He won’t win.

A Christmas Break is a festive MM romance. Expect: a swoony best friend’s brother, old friendships that fast turn to love, sweet roommate romance, and lots of naughty rescue cats.

Annabelle Jacobs lives in the South West of England with three rowdy children, and two cats. An avid reader of fantasy herself for many years, Annabelle now spends her days writing her own stories. They're usually either fantasy or paranormal fiction, because she loves building worlds filled with magical creatures, and creating stories full of action and adventure. Her characters may have a tough time of it—fighting enemies and adversity—but they always find love in the end. 

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Blog Tour + Giveaway: The Offering by Rosary Deville

Author Rosary Deville and Gay Book Promotions visit on the final day for The Offering blog tour! Read more about the dark shifter paranormal and enter in the giveaway to win one of three $10 Amazon Gift Cards!


Book Title: The Offering 

Author: Rosary Deville

Publisher: Self Published

Cover Artist: Zoe Perdita

Release Date: November 13, 2020

Genre/s: M/M dark erotica, taboo, mpreg, paranormal/urban romance,

shifter fantasy, werewolves

Trope/s: alphas and betas, strong/unruly protagonist

Themes: dubious/non consent. forced marriage, societal inequality,

abuse, violence, dom/sub, BDSM 

Heat Rating:  5 flames    

Length:  approx. 65 000 words/ 250 pages

It is Book 1 out of 2. Book 2 will be released later in 2021.


Buy Links - Available on Smashwords



A beta in an oppressive werewolf society must participate in a mating ceremony where alphas hunt their future mates.


As a beta in Wereduin society, Fern has no choice but to be mated when he comes of age. The ideal beta wereduin was subservient to their alpha, bears young, and knows their place in society.

Fern isn't like that.

Rather than become an extension of his alpha, Fern wants to play in his band, hang out with his friends, and stay himself.

Now of age, Fern is to be placed in the Offering—an annual ceremony where alphas hunt and claim their beta mates. And whose attention does Fern attract? None other than Donovan Blackfang, a Highborne alpha who will stop at nothing but to claim Fern’s heart, body, and soul.


Someone grabbed the nape of my neck. Shit, no! Why hadn’t I paid more attention to my surroundings?

This alpha male was stout and gray. His jagged claws dug into my shoulder, and it ripped a cry from my throat. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw another beta. This alpha must have been cornering her before I showed up. She didn’t look back at me as she made her escape. The alpha who had me could have come from my worst nightmares. He had a large scar across his eye. His thick, weather-worn hide told me he’d been at this game for a while. He could be my papa’s age, not that age mattered for werewolves, but his face was truly menacing. The glee I found in his glowing red eyes terrified me. Veins riddled his muscular physique. One of his ears had been chewed off. He gripped my shoulder, tearing my skin. I clawed at his hands, face, biting wherever I could as he forced me onto the ground.

I felt sure I was a goner when he was knocked off of me. Growling surrounded us. It was the large, black alpha that had taken on the slaver. He snarled at the alpha who had been about to rape me. Slowly, I crawled away on my hands and knees. That was when he turned his fangs on me, growling. He didn’t want me to leave, as if he already felt some ownership of me. Something in his eyes halted me and trapped my breath in my throat. I shook my head rapidly.


There was no way I would be claimed tonight. And certainly not by a male. I took off running, leaving them to their fight.

It was over shockingly quick. The dark alpha won. My alpha. It confused me when I momentarily thought of him as mine. My body wanted to submit. Arousal grew heavy in my groin, heating up my body.

Hell, no!

Instincts be damned, I was not born so I could have some male alpha’s pups.

The black alpha picked up speed.

Just then, two alpha males sprang from either side of the woods. I ducked low, and they collided into each other. I dodged around them. The left one snatched me back before the alpha on the right knocked him to the ground.

Both alphas were beautiful—if I allowed myself to think something like that about the same sex. One was a scarlet red, while the other a golden bronze. Hopefully, the two would also stop the black alpha who still followed me, and I could make a getaway.

Both tried, not wanting to let a challenger slip by.

I dragged out a relieved sigh. Part of me was disappointed, and that part scared me. The rest of me was thankful. I didn’t want any of them to win—especially the strong dark alpha.

It was apparent by their beauty that all three alphas fighting over me were from the upper-class. But my eye was drawn to the dark one—jet black with those piercing neon-blue eyes and riddled, muscular physique. Of the three, he was the most handsome. Shaking my head and trying to remove those unwanted thoughts about the beautiful alphas fighting for me, I left them to battle.

When I heard them following me, I stole a glance over my shoulder. My heart stopped. Both the scarlet and golden-bronze alphas chased behind me. The dark werewolf must have been beaten. My heart sank. I wanted to slap myself. Why did I feel so let down?

I ran blindly through the forest and over the rocks until I backed myself against a cliff. Both werewolves approached me, snarling. I retreated as far as I could go before I drew my fangs. There was no way I was going down without a fight.

Perhaps they formed an alliance because they no longer fought each other. Instead, they homed in on me. Was I about to be claimed by two males?

How would they take me? I only had one opening. Would they both try to fit? My body trembled, but my beta brain started to submit. It craved having the alphas’ cocks inside me.

Backing away, I shook my head and crouched low. They sprang at me, but before they could touch me, a black shadow leaped from the cliff over my head. He landed in front of me.

There he is again!

The black alpha.

Gratitude overwhelmed me, and I could do nothing but stare at him. I wanted this alpha. I ached inside. Precum dripped from my hard cock. I wanted him inside of me.

Violently, I shook my head. No. I did not want to be claimed by anyone tonight. I found a small opening created by their fighting and snuck out. The black alpha growled at me, and I couldn’t stop my shiver. He wanted me to wait for him. He wanted me to let him claim me. Already, it felt like he had his claws around my heart.



About the Author 

Rosary is an author of erotica ranging from sweet and fluffy, to dark and taboo. She aims to foster a sex-positive experience for readers to indulge their fantasies in a fun and safe space. Sometimes she uses her writing to journey into the often hidden and taboo depths of human sexuality, and hopes readers will take away from her stories, not an acceptance of violence and sexual abuse, but rather a way to embrace their inner desires often shamed by society.



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Release Blitz + Giveaway: The Christmas Chevalier (Christmas Masquerade #1) by Meg Mardell

Author Meg Mardell and IndiGo Marketing host today's release blitz for holiday historical romance, The Christmas Chevalier (Christmas Masquerade #1) ! Discover more and enter in the $10 NineStar Press credit giveaway!

Title: The Christmas Chevalier

Series: Christmas Masquerade, Book One

Author: Meg Mardell

Publisher: NineStar Press

Release Date: November 30th, 2020

Heat Level: 2 - Fade to Black Sex

Pairing: Male/Female

Length: 33400

Genre: Historical, LGBTQIA+, historical/Victorian England, holiday/Christmas, gay, trans, friends to lovers, coming out, humorous, slow burn, mistaken identity, deception romance

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Alvy Lexington has bought himself the best Christmas present in the world. True, the draughty flat on a dingy stretch of the Thames has none of the welcoming holiday warmth of his family’s West London townhouse. That is the entire point! No one who knows him by his given name will ever set foot here. When his old friend Laura Jacobs needs somewhere to spend the holidays, Alvy knows he should keep his distance, but… But Laura makes him do incautious things. Like offering her a job—since when did he manage a printing press?—and inviting her to a certain Christmas Eve masquerade.

Laura knows the lush London of the Lexingtons is only a temporary escape from her grey days as a governess. But she is determined to enjoy this glittering winter wonderland while it lasts, especially her dance with an angel of a man at the masquerade. Why, his French chevalier costume practically glows! While she daydreams about her white knight, an unexpected business opportunity with Alvy makes her hopeful of a new independent life. But first, she is going to have to come to a real understanding with her old friend.


The Christmas Chevalier
Meg Mardell © 2020
All Rights Reserved

London, 1879

“Oh, my…my…my…”

“God?” her companion supplied innocently.

Laura glared up from where she stood doubled over, clutching the door frame with one gloved hand and pressing her side with the other.

“Gracious! Why…why must you take rooms level with…Big Ben?”

Alvy continued looking down at her with infuriating amusement.

“Ah, but the climb is one of the place’s chief charms. Come look at the view of the river. The embankment’s spoilt all its old charm of course, but we must have wide streets and electric lamps apparently.”

Laura’s heart continued to slam against her corseted ribs. She was not willing to praise the view. Or to move a step further.

“The stairs smell of…boiled cabbage and worse. While your place…what is the smell, Alvy? I would say it was tobacco, except I know your mother—”

“Would have an apoplectic fit if she so much as detected a particle of ash on my person? Very true. But then, that is the beauty of taking quarters in such a godforsaken corner of the town. Mother will never visit! I’m rather glad you were intrepid enough to brave Vauxhall. And the stairs.”

Laura had at last mastered her breathing and straightened to return fire on her tormentor.

“What, and miss a chance to see for myself your new, er, work premises? How spacious it is!”

She gestured around the large but scarcely furnished room. The tall sash windows admitted a great deal of midday winter light—and even more of the chill December air. There was no sign of a desk, or worktable, and the domestic furnishings only extended to a day-bed and a pair of battered armchairs before an open fire.

“You forget, Alvy, I am not such a fine lady that I need fear stares outside of fashionable London. The freedoms of being in the governess class are many and varied.”

Alvy flopped down into an armchair and stretched a slippered foot out from under the hem of a heavy silk dressing gown towards the cheerful blaze.

“Are they indeed? By Jove, I should love to know more about these rights and privileges.”

Laura wondered if she was being teased. But then she never could tell with her friend.

“Well, let’s see…There is the right to squash into an omnibus and end up directly next to a gentleman with a dripping hat.”

Alvy grinned at this start. Laura warmed to her task.

“The right to return your library books while enduring the scrutiny of some wire-spectacled gorgon.”

“Very right too! You look just the sort to eat buttered toast while reading borrowed books.”

“And, let us not forget, the preeminent privilege of politely bickering about the bill with other governesses at tea rooms.”

“Harpies the lot of them—yourself excepted. Lord, I’m so glad you’ve escaped those grubby children—”

“Child. And this one is an angel.” Too angelic, in fact. It made Laura worry about the girl’s inner life.

“Sanctimonious parents—”

“Mr and Mrs Shepherdson have been nothing but kind!” Or they had been. Until the discovery of certain books and letters.

“And the atrociously dull company of Dingley Dell—”

“For the tenth time, Alvy, it is Findleys Ford.”

“Ah ha! So you at least admit they are dull. But all these country backwaters are the same. London’s the only place to live.”

“A point you are forever making in your letters. It is not like I hied off to Dingley—to Findleys Ford on an idle whim.”

“Well, well, the point is you’ve escaped for the holidays. And, as you see, I’ve escaped too.”

“That fact had not eluded me. Your mother claims you are never to be seen at Norland Square.”

Laura could not imagine ever wanting to leave the ever-so-comfortable surrounds of Alvy’s childhood home. She had dreamt of the sumptuous dinners, the hot baths, and the soft sheets turned down by a maid for weeks now as she lay on her narrow tick mattress under the eaves at the Shepherdsons.

“Your mother is under the impression you are starting some great enterprise that will give work to female printers who are refused employment elsewhere.”

“Ah, not quite. I said I was setting up a printing press—and set it up I have.”

Alvy gestured with a long-fingered hand to a space behind the still-gaping door.

Laura swung the door shut. A great black iron contraption with decorative gold paintwork dominated the otherwise empty space.

“Oh, you have an Albion Press!”

“An Albion? I could have sworn the past owner called it an albatross.”

“Very funny. But the gold finial—that gold crown on top—is unmistakable. How on earth did you get it up here?”

“The men got it up here with a great deal of sweat and swearing. I got it up with bribery. They threatened to quit halfway up the stairs.”

“I am only surprised they did not bring down the whole staircase. But the press looks excellently preserved.”

“And it will remain in exactly the same condition.”

“Do you mean it is truly only for show? That is a rather rotten trick to play your mother.”

“Trick? I have done Mother a great service. She doesn’t know what to do with me. She has finally despaired of my marrying now that I am striding across the wasteland of my thirties.”

“I do not remember her ever being very pressing on the issue.”

“I have given myself some employment. Now she will have something to tell her society ladies at those dreadful committee meetings.”

“That you have dedicated yourself to good works—without the work part?”

Alvy blithely ignored Laura’s sarcasm.

“She will omit the part about Vauxhall, naturally.”

“While you will omit everything else?”

Something in Alvy’s dark eyes suddenly made Laura wish to change her tart tone.

With no doormat or boot-scraper in sight, she had no choice but to track the sludgy London streets into the room. Not that there was a scrap of carpet to dirty. Seating herself in a heap of mud-striped travelling skirts on the lone ottoman, Laura studied her friend.

Alvy’s appearance, especially after a long separation, always rekindled a flicker of Laura’s original awe. She knew that the gaze she held was properly described as brown. It was just the pale skin turning bluish under the eyes that made them look so intensely dark. Likewise, the greying walls and bare floorboards of these new quarters probably made Alvy’s costume of rich browns and blues so transparently costly. Alvy preserved a long-limbed grace even when reclining in a splendid heap in the battered chair.

Laura once assumed that the possessor of such a regal appearance would snub a nobody like her. She had since learnt the error of judging by appearances. She now took up one of those elegantly white hands, trying to ignore how dirty her sensible gloves looked in comparison.

“Tell me really what you mean to do. Come. We have known each other since we were practically children.”

The elegant hand was withdrawn. Alvy sat higher in the chair and broke into a fair imitation of a Scotsman.

“Speak for yourself, lassie. I was a full three and twenty when we met at that bonny brook in Switzerland. Or have ye forgot that day?”

Laura definitely remembered the questioning curve of Alvy’s left eyebrow as they passed each other on the trail; she was looking at it again now. Laura had been nineteen and on her first assignment with a family wintering at Luzern.

“How could I forget? You were wearing the most memorable alpine hat and matching coat. More feathers and frogging I had never seen. And yet, infuriatingly, you wore it all with such ease. Why, you still do!”

Alvy looked confused. “I promise that I don’t strut down the streets of London in alpine dress.”

“I mean that you are able to look well in anything. Take this turban contraption. No one else could wear it without looking foolish. Well, except perhaps a Shakespearean tragedian.”

Alvy gingerly felt the turban in question, silk without a doubt, but burst into laughter upon Laura’s final admission.

“The thing you never do seem to realise, Miss Jacobs, is that all clothes are costumes. All equally ridiculous.”

“Yours are not ridiculous! Eccentric perhaps. But becoming. You always do upholster yourself exquisitely. Which is more than I can say for your rooms.”


NineStar Press | Books2Read Universal Link

Meet the Author

Meg moved from the US to England because she fell in love with the Victorians’ peculiar blend of glamour and grime. After a decade of exploring historical excesses in a prim scholarly fashion, she realized that fiction is the best way to delve into that period’s great female-focused and LGBT+ stories. Weaned on the high-seas romances of the 1990s, Meg’s lost none of her love for cross-dressing cabin boys but any tolerance for boorish heroes. She’s delighted to now have a whole raft of quirky and queer characters to cheer for on their quest for Happily Ever After. She frequently breaks off writing for an Earl Grey tea (milk not lemon). She’s trying to learn Polish and Portuguese at the same time. She plans to escape Brexit Britain.

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Review: Bound (Chinatown Demons #1) by Rhys Ford

Chinatown, San Francisco.

A different place — another time— and where the city’s streets keep secrets, shadowy mysteries SFPD Inspector Spencer Ricci needs to dig through after he finds himself on a case involving a dismembered, mummified man in a restaurant’s locked storage room.

Spencer drags around a lot of baggage, including an ongoing battle with the bottle and a long career as an LAPD detective he’d set fire to in a blaze of booze-soaked mistakes. San Francisco is supposed to be a new start but his old ghosts haunt him, beckoning him back into his self-destructive bad habits. Bad habits that include contemplating doing dirty things with the wrong kind of guy and this time, it’s a sleek, cold-tempered medical examiner named Xian Carter with a complicated reputation.

For a century-old demon, Xian Carter is content with his secretive life. Hiding his nature from the mundane world, he blends in with the city’s inhabitants as best he can but even the best of predators make mistakes. Delving into the mysteries of the dead provide a welcome distraction from endless nights and hiding in plain sight amuses him, until something supernaturally wicked comes knocking on his door with an extremely hot, broody Inspector close behind.

Murder makes for strange bedfellows and this one is no exception. The twists and turns of the case leaves Xian and Spencer on a wild goose chase after clues but Xian can only hope there’s a human at the end of the trail—because the last thing San Francisco needs is another predator.

Blood, gore, corpses, monsters, and two enthralling men. Rhys Ford is back with another urban fantasy series!

SFPD inspector Spencer Ricci gets thrown on a creepy case involving an out-of-the-ordinary corpse. The case puts Spencer in touch with Xian Carter, a medical examiner with a cold reputation.

However, cold is the exact opposite of what Spencer and Xian feel for each other.

The initial connection between the two is classic Rhys Ford - it’s immediate and only grows from there. I was all on-board for the hot and heavy looks, and the saucy inner thoughts!

But things aren’t that easy. Spencer has his demons, namely his alcoholism, and Xian is quite literally a demon.

Yes, an actual demon. Albeit a sexy and aloof demon whose pulse surprisingly only races for a grumpy cop.

However, it does complicate matters. Especially in the midst of a crime that gets increasingly weirder.

I enjoyed every squeamish detail of the case. It wouldn’t be a Rhys Ford thriller/mystery without the ick factor. And it was just starting to get really good when it ended.

I forgot that this was a serial, so I was slightly thrown by how quickly book 1 ended, and how unresolved things were left.

That applies to the romance just as much as the mystery - Xian and Spencer don’t really move beyond the initial flirtation in book 1.

Also, the character backstories can probably use more fleshing-out. Readers will get the gist of where the men come from and what drives them, but there’s definitely a lot more to know and more character development to see.

Overall, I quite enjoyed this first part of Spencer and Xian’s story. If you’re okay with a cliffhanger and no resolution to either the mystery or the romance, you’ll want to give ‘Bound’ a read. Otherwise, it might be good to wait until the entire series is released.

In any case, I’m looking forward to reading what happens next!

A copy was provided in exchange for an honest review.

Release Blitz + Giveaway: Stranded with Desire by Rick R. Reed and Vivien Dean

Authors Rick R. Reed and Vivien Dean, along with IndiGo Marketing, host today's release blitz for Stranded with Desire! Read more about the slow burn/ stranded romance and enter in the $10 NineStar Press credit giveaway!


Title: Stranded with Desire

Author: Rick R. Reed, Vivien Dean

Publisher: NineStar Press

Release Date: November 30, 2020

Heat Level: 3 - Some Sex

Pairing: Male/Male

Length: 55400

Genre: Contemporary, LGBTQIA+, businessmen, friends to lovers, plane crash, wilderness survival, slow burn, m/m romance

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CEO Maine Braxton and his invaluable assistant, Colby, don’t realize they share a deep secret: they’re in love—with each other. That secret may have never come to light but for a terrifying plane crash in the Cascade Mountains that changes everything.

In a struggle for survival, they brave bears, storms, and a life-threatening flood to make it out of the wilderness alive. The proximity to death makes them realize the importance of love over propriety. Confessions emerge. Passions ignite. They escape the wilds renewed and openly in love.

When they return to civilization, though, forces are already plotting to snuff out their short-lived romance and ruin everything both have worked so hard to achieve.


Stranded by Desire
Rick R Reed and Vivien Dean © 2020
All Rights Reserved

Colby LaSalle never dreamed his life would end in a plane crash over the Cascade Mountains in Washington State. But here he was, whispering fevered petitions to the Lord as the plane screamed, plunging downward…faster, faster.

Out the windows, all he could see was white. And the only outcome he could imagine was that once that white cleared, the last thing he’d take in would be towering pine trees and the cold side of a mountain hurtling toward him. It was almost too horrific to comprehend.

In those few moments, as Colby braced himself in his seat, head down near his knees, he found himself thinking what a loss this was. The man across from him, his boss, Maine Braxton, would never know the most important thing about Colby. And that thing was not his proficiency as an administrative assistant, keeping Maine on track and on schedule in all his business affairs, but that Colby was passionately—and secretly—in love with him. With all his heart and soul.

That fact, and the unspoken words that hid it, seemed tragic to Colby, maybe even more tragic than the life he was about to lose. What kind of life, Colby wondered, did you really have if you’d never truly loved and been loved in return?

Colby, at twenty-eight, had never been in love before. And now it looked as though he would never have the chance to act on his desire, on that feeling that made his heart flutter whenever Maine walked by his desk. Was love like a tree falling in the forest? If the object of that love never knew of it, did it really exist?

Colby looked up for a moment, maybe to have a final look at Maine, but was distracted by the view through the cockpit window of the six-seater plane they were traveling in—a Beechcraft Bonanza. The opaque fog of white cleared for a moment, and Colby could see, to his horror, that his imagination was correct.

They were hurtling toward the side of a mountain. The view was surreal. Shock kept him from thinking it was anything other than a very vivid nightmare.

He then looked over at Maine and saw he had slid from his seat to the floor. The strong, powerful man cowered there, hands over his head. His lips moved in what Colby could only assume was silent prayer.

Colby longed to slide over, to cover Maine with his own body and shield him from the impact, but he was paralyzed, a butterfly pinned to a board, and could only add his own whispered prayers to those of his boss.

“Please, God, help us get out of this alive. Let Maine know how very much I love him. Give me that chance.”

The private pilot, a blustery, gruff man named Gus Pangborn but whom everyone just called Rooster, shouted, “We’re gonna try and go up! We’re gonna try and go up!”

Colby didn’t know if he was talking to him, Maine, or himself, but the desperation in the pilot’s gravelly voice was clear. The despair in Rooster’s words communicated one thing to Colby and one thing only—he had no hope.

Colby squeezed his eyes shut tight and placed his head back down toward his knees again, covering it with his hands, although he wondered how much good it would do once the plane crashed, once it was consumed by a giant fireball.

What Colby LaSalle didn’t realize, though, was that the plane crash would signal not the end of his life, but the beginning.


NineStar Press | Books2Read Universal Link

Also available in Audio at Audible

Meet the Author

Real Men. True Love. 

Rick R. Reed is an award-winning and bestselling author of more than fifty works of published fiction. He is a Lambda Literary Award finalist. Entertainment Weekly has described his work as “heartrending and sensitive.” Lambda Literary has called him: “A writer that doesn’t disappoint…” Find him at Rick lives in Palm Springs, CA, with his husband, Bruce, and their fierce Chihuahua/Shiba Inu mix, Kodi.

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Vivien Dean has had a lifetime love affair with stories. A multi-published author, her books have been EPPIE finalists, Romantic Times Reviewer's Choice Nominees, and readers favorites. After spending her twenties and early thirties traveling, she has finally settled down and currently resides in northern California with her British husband and two children.

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