Showing posts with label Gay Fiction. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Gay Fiction. Show all posts

Release Blitz: Servants of the Crown: The Turkish Pretender by Garrick Jones


Author Garrick Jones and Gay Book Promotions share new historical fiction release, Servants of the Crown: The Turkish Pretender! Check it out today!

RELEASE BLITZ

Book Title: Servants of the Crown: The Turkish Pretender

Author: Garrick Jones

Publisher: MoshPit Publications

Cover Artist: Garrick Jones

Release Date: 24 March, 2022

Genre: Gay Historical Fiction; Spy Thriller.

Tropes: Circle of Friends; Master and Servant.

Themes: Betrayal, treason, the strength of friendships and the ultimate connection.

Heat Rating:  2 flames       

Length: 124 891 words/389 pages 

It is a standalone story and does not end on a cliffhanger

Goodreads

Buy Links

Amazon US  |  Amazon UK  |  Amazon AU  |  Smashwords

The book is also available in paperback

Intelligencers: men and women from all walks of life and from all sections of society, servants of the Crown who work for the Home Office gathering information vital to the security of the nation.

Blurb

Intelligencers: men and women from all walks of life and from all sections of society, servants of the Crown who work for the Home Office gathering information vital to the security of the nation.

London, 1855. While Great Britain is at war with the Russians in the Crimea, a cadre of disaffected seditionists and insurrectionists, made up of members of the aristocracy and wealthy industrialists, have set a plan into action that’s been decades in the making—a plan that aims to overthrow the Queen and to install a puppet king on the throne in her place. With the war raging and disquiet in the industrial north and in Ireland, their perfidious plot, unless stopped, threatens to bring about anarchy and revolution.

Aware of the imminent danger, Sir George Grey, the Home Secretary, has tasked The Brothers, a band of four men, friends of over twenty years, to root out the source of the infection, destroy the clique, and track down and eradicate its foreign pretender by any means necessary. From molly houses to state banquets, from hospitals to steam baths, from aristocratic households to the meanest of slums, the friends find themselves in a succession of increasingly perilous situations.

Like the mighty Thames, undercurrents flow swift and deep as they uncover plot after plot and treachery and treason in abundance.

Excerpt

“Fetch Christopher, if you please, Elam,” Lennard said.

“What? Are you going to have me manhandled out the door?”

“No, Terrence. Christopher is waiting for me with my riding equipage. I was about to exercise my horse and I shall do so once I’ve seen to Miles. You’ve paid me for the destruction of my window and given me a promise for the carpet, but surely you realise you owe me for the mistreatment of my butler?”

“You can’t be serious, Lennard. We’re talking about chattel here. Servants are no different from your carpet or your priceless window. He’ll recover. A quick slash across the chops is a lesser thing than one of my own servants might have received had one of them tried to grapple with me. How dare he touch a person of—”

Lennard strode quickly to Astley and grabbed the fronts of his jacket.

“Let me tell you this. Although I said I’ve changed, my hate for you still burns in my chest. How dare you stride into my house, abuse my servants, and feel free to do whatever you like. Remember this before you leave. One word from me to the right person and you’ll find yourself gasping for air as you descend to the depths of the Thames, your arms bound behind your back, and your feet chained to an anchor. You’d just disappear. Like that!” Lennard snapped his fingers next to Astley’s ear.

“Have care to whom you make threats, Lennard. I’m too valuable to the Prime Minister. I still hold a seat and a loyal group of Irish lords who keep him in power.”

“Threats against other men interest me not, sir. I wish to have nothing ever to do with you from this day henceforth … not ever. Do you understand?”

“You’re making a big mistake.”

“Not so big a one as you made by appearing at my door and forcing your way into my house.”

“I shall take my leave of you. But don’t think this is over. I’ll put it about that you dishonoured your uncle’s word.”

“Do what you feel best, sir. But, by now, my coachman will have arrived with my riding gear and is waiting outside the door. If I were you, I’d leave this very moment before I grab my whip and thrash the living daylights out of you. You can apologise to Elam on your way out for injuring his brother.”

“Apologise? Why, I—”

“Oh, and Astley?” Lennard added, interrupting the man by violently releasing his jacket and pushing him backward, his knees hitting the edge of the Chesterfield. “Putting it about that I dishonoured your agreement with my uncle? Well, two can play at that game. It would not be hard to start a rumour that you’ve dealt with your ward, Neasa, inappropriately, and that’s the reason you’re so reluctant to allow her to marry into one of the most noble families in the land.”

“No one would believe that for one moment.”

“People have been wondering about your reluctance these past four or five years, ever since Sir George’s son first approached you. However, now, with my new title, I will have the ears of not only the leading members of society, but also those close to the throne. An innuendo is as good as an oath, don’t you think? Even Irish baronets who hold some sway in parliament are not immune to gossip. You’d not be invited anywhere, whether the slander is proved or not. Everyone knows Sir Hugh was not a businessman, and although the sum you offered would make you out to be a villain at the best, the premature plucking of a tender blossom before its time … why, Her Majesty would send someone banging at your door.”

About the Author 

After a thirty year career as a professional opera singer, performing as a soloist in opera houses and in concert halls all over the world, I took up a position as lecturer in music in Australia in 1999, at the Central Queensland Conservatorium of Music, which is now part of CQUniversity.

Brought up in Australia, between the bush and the beaches of the Eastern suburbs, I retired in 2015 and now live in the tropics, writing, gardening, and finally finding time to enjoy life and to re-establish a connection with who I am after a very busy career on the stage and as an academic.

I write mostly historical gay fiction. The stories are always about relationships and the inner workings of men; sometimes my fellas get down to the nitty-gritty, sometimes it's up to you, the reader, to fill in the blanks.

Every book is story driven; spies, detectives, murders, epic dramas, there's something for everyone. I also love to write about my country and the things that make us Aussies and our history different from the rest of the world.

I'm research driven. I always try to do my best to give the reader a sense of what life was like for my main characters in the world they live in.


Social Media Links

Blog/Website  |  Facebook  |  Twitter  |  Instagram

Newsletter Sign-up  |  Pinterest  |  Australian Crime Writers Association

Hosted by Gay Book Promotions

Series Tour + Giveaway: Nacho Mama's Patio Cafe Novels by Steve Schatz


Welcome the Nacho Mama's Patio Cafe series tour to the blog! Join author Steve Schatz and Gay Book Promotions as they host today's tour stop and giveaway: one of three ebook copies of Any Summer Sunday, one of three ebook copies of Who Plugged the Dyke?, or an audiobook of either book! 

SERIES TOUR - NACHO MAMA'S PATIO CAFE NOVELS

Friends, fags, & fun in a little college town  

Any Summer Sunday

Boys in the Band meets Le Cage in an Indiana drag bar

Who Plugged the Dyke?

Elections are hard. This one is Murder

The two books stand alone and can be read in either order, although Any Summer Sunday was written first and contains more background information. It is a more character driven story. Who Plugged the Dyke is a mystery.

Overall Heat Rating: 2 flames. Tawdry, but not dirty. Sex is described as part of a story, but not in detail. No sex scenes. Not romance. Not erotica. Think of gay friends in a bar who might describe a conquest (but not the specifics).

BOOK 1

Book Title: Any Summer Sunday at Nacho Mama’s Patio Cafe: Drag, Songs, Friends, Laughs, Lies, Danger & Redemption

Author: Steve Schatz

Publisher: Any Summer Sunday Books

Cover Artist: James at GoOnWrite

Length:  75 000 words/ 234 Pages

Release Date: June 21, 2019

Genre:  LGBT Humorous Fiction

Trope/s: Reluctant hero, power of friendship, metonymy (Drag – the entire life around performance in a gay bar & Nacho Mama’s represents a safe place where friends gather, gossip, and support each other)

Themes: Friends, Small town gay, Drag and Performance, Lookin’ for love

It is a standalone story

Goodreads

Buy Links

Amazon US  |  Amazon UK

Bookshop  |  Any Summer Sunday

How far should you go to save a friend from her own desires?

Blurb

TiaRa del Fuego is in love and that means trouble for her friends. Every Sunday evening we meet in Hoosier Daddy, our small college town’s only gay bar gather to watch TiaRa del Fuego’s Parade of Gowns drag show. Performance, love, betrayal, spies, and friendship fight to the fore every Summer Sunday.

However, this Sunday, dear TiaRa, thin enough to hate, yet broken enough to love, announces she has found love...yet again...and is leaving after that evening’s show to be with her new man. We know she is making a huge mistake...again. What can we do?

Any Summer Sunday is a celebration of friends, drag, and life. Come and join in the fun.

Excerpt from Any Summer Sunday

With few exceptions, the same group of reprobates gathered every week. We are no longer young, but all have spent our years wisely or wildly enough to hold one’s place when the conversation turns a bit too bitchy. We enjoyed our youth, are enjoying the years beyond youth without regret, and occasionally enjoy youths—when the opportunity arises, as it were.

All societies celebrate the young, but in gay circles, this celebration borders on idolatry. Twenty-somethings and now even teeny-somethings who celebrate their coming out are welcomed into a glorious disco summer camp with every conceivable need provided. For those of us who are years past the realization and/or announcement, being out offers far fewer invitations. We often find ourselves between worlds—not certain of a welcome in either gay or straight society.

In “normal” society, it is tiresome to yet again face the “ . . . and your wife?” questions in every new group and to worry if it is going to be an issue. If I have an urge to explore square dancing, must I find a gay square—hmmm . . . Mr. Lynde springs to mind. Sometimes it’s easier not to bother. Then there are those moments when it suddenly pisses you off that you are supposed to feel gratitude merely for being accepted or endured by the dominant pairing paradigm.

 In the gay community, the adulation of youth and horror of aging can make one feel diseased. Even previously enjoyable activities can be snatched away. Take window shopping. I enjoy looking at a pretty pair of pants when it walks by, even if I know it will never fit, I can’t afford it, and the style is all wrong for a man of my years and shape. I look because it is pretty, and I enjoy looking at pretty things. But, if every time I go looking, the trousers, upon noticing my gaze, gasp in horror, turn away with a look of sardonic pity, and begin to whisper with their fellow couture, I eventually will give up looking.

 So, when we find a group and an enjoyable activity where we can simply be, without the need to prove or explain ourselves, then it is something to be cherished. Not misty-eyed, bosom clutching cherished, but those people and enjoyments are simply too dear to give up without a care. Sunday afternoons were like that. That is why, when one Sunday, TiaRa del Fuego—dear, sweet, damaged TiaRa—announced that she had found love, yet again—this time on a dating site and was leaving town to be with her new man who was driving up that very day to help her move—well, we knew something had to be done and quickly.

BOOK 2

Book Title: Who Plugged the Dyke?

Author: Steve Schatz

Publisher: Any Summer Sunday Books

Cover Artist: James at GoOnWrite

Length: 218 pages 67,000 words

Release Date: July 2020

Genres: LBGT Mystery, LGBT Humor, LGBT Fiction

Trope: Reluctant hero

Themes: Friendship, small town gays, detection, politics

It is a standalone story.

Goodreads

Buy Links 

Amazon US  |  Amazon UK

Bookshop  |  Any Summer Sunday

 A gay mystery full to the tits with action and wit.

Blurb

Some Elections are hard … This one is Murder!

Get ready for Excitement, Laughs, Thrills and Fun!

In 10 days she’ll be the 1st in your face lesbian judge elected in homo-hating Indiana. But someone wants to kill her and her little dog too.

The friends from Nacho Mama’s Patio Cafe must put on their big boy panties, get out of Hoosier Daddy, the only gay bar in town, onto the streets and go hunting for the culprit.

Thrills, drag shows, danger, laughs and a kick line of drag queens in judicial robes as the anti-heroes dodge explosions, fire, guns, knives and terror, seek out the hidden mastermind and sashay to the rescue.

You loved Any Summer Sunday at Nacho Mama’s Patio Cafe. Now, the merry band from the small Indiana college town’s drag bar return. It’s an Indiana Election Mystery. Who Plugged the Dyke?

Excerpt from Who Plugged the Dyke?

I noticed that the big, bearded Tooth Fairy had moved nearly in front of me. There is something wonderfully wrong about a big ol’ hunka hunka in a pink tutu. I grinned at him. He didn't grin back. His attention was fixed on Deb. However, he was not smiling. He was just staring. Something in the back of my mind tickled. I started watching him more carefully. He was playing with his magic wand. It was about three feet long and trailed stars and strands of glitter. But he was pulling off the covering and it was looking less and less like a wand and more and more like a weapon. Recalling what I had been told, I looked for Roger or Petunia or one of Nacho's Twinks. I couldn't see Roger. Petunia was at the back of the stage, guarding the way in. I saw a couple of cute Twinks, but didn't know if they were Nacho's boys or not. I started to raise my hand and kind of gesture toward the Tooth Fairy. I was trying to be cool and not alert him that I had noticed anything untoward. He continued to pull away the spangles. He was looking down at the wand and then up at Deb, and I could see a look of menace grow across his features.

I waved my hands over my head and then pointed down at him. Some in the crowd saw what I was doing and waved, too. They thought it was a celebratory gesture. I began to wave my hands and point more emphatically. I nearly lost my balance, but no one seemed to get the message. No one was heading in that direction. I looked at  he man, who was no longer looking fairy-like at all. He had finished pulling all the detritus off his wand and while I was not a  weapons guy, even I could recognize that what was once a wand  was now, very obviously, a weapon. A blow gun.

He reached into his bag and pulled out, not a handful of glitter, but a rather large  dart with a very large and very sharp point. By this time, subtle was no longer on the table. I waved my hands wildly above my  head, then pointed at the guy. I did not care if he saw. I had to  stop him, and no one seemed to be coming to do anything about it. Deb was talking. The girls were dancing. And the Tooth Fairy  dropped the dart into his blow gun.

About the Author

Steve Schatz writes with a crazy mashup of laughs and excitement and humor. Readers can’t stop reading, but don’t want the story to end. Each book is an adventure where endearing anti-heroes struggle against this crazy world and triumph using the twin forces of intentional, creative action and friends helping friends.  Schatz draws on a lifetime of varied and fascinating experiences, from instructional designer and college prof to party clown and nightclub owner.

His series of adult fiction highlights a group of middle-aged gay friends who gather every week in a small, Indiana college town. Mixing drinks, snappy repartee, and the humor and joy of long-time friends, in one book they rescue the fair drag queen from an obvious miscreant. In another, they ride to the protection of a lesbian candidate for judge who is being targeted by mysterious evil-doers. The excitement reveals itself against a backdrop of drag performance and efforts by anti-heroes. You’ll laugh. You’ll cry. You’ll beg for more. Steve Schatz offers a new voice and a smile for the LGBT community and their friends.

Author Links

Blog/Website  |   Twitter: @AnySummerSunday

Facebook  |   Newsletter sign-up

 Giveaway

Enter the Rafflecopter Giveaway for a chance to win 

one of three ebook copies of Any Summer Sunday,

one of three ebook copies of Who Plugged the Dyke?,

or an audiobook of either book.

Total of 8 giveaways

a Rafflecopter giveaway

Hosted by Gay Book Promotions

Book Blast: The Emancipation: Dion’s Baptism by Dijon M. McIntyre


Welcome today's book blast for The Emancipation: Dion’s Baptism from author Dijon M. McIntyre and Gay Book Promotions. Read more info today!

BOOK BLAST

Book Title: The Emancipation: Dion’s Baptism

Author: Dijon M McIntyre 

Publisher: FreedomArtz LLC

Cover Artist: Cameron Dudley 

Release Date: December 5, 2019

Genre: Contemporary Adult Fiction

Trope: Therapy

Themes: Love, Depression, Forgiveness, Coming out, Acceptance

Heat Rating: No heat

Length:  34 365 words/128 pages

Add on Goodreads

 

Buy Links - Available on Kindle Unlimited

Amazon US  |   Amazon UK 

 

A young gay man has a near death experience that forces him to go through therapy and recount the events of his abusive past that led to his excessive drinking and depression.


Blurb

The Emancipation: Dion's Baptism is a fictional story about a young man who has a near death experience and ends up going to therapy, forcing him to dig up painful memories from his past and discover what is the real cause behind his depression and his excessive drinking. He not only finds the answers he's looking for but also the strength to forgive all the people who have hurt him.



Excerpt

“It’s something I don’t normally tell people about because I don’t want them blaming my sexuality on that. With me being gay, I feel that people in my life always look for an explanation as to why I’m gay or how I “became” gay. It’s not like it was one particular incident that made me like guys, I’ve been this way for as long as I can remember. As a child I didn’t really know a name for it or a label to attach to it, I just knew I was always attracted to men. I don’t care too much about how anyone else feels about it, this is part of who I am.”

“If you don’t mind me asking, what people in your life did you feel wanted an explanation from you about your sexuality?”

“Everyone, at least that’s the way it felt. Close friends, family members. They all wanted to know why I’m like this; they treated it like it was a disease. I remember people in my family asking me if I had been molested by someone in the family or saying that I turned out like this because I used to carry my grandmother’s purse to her car for her before she went to work. People tried to find every explanation for something that didn’t need one. It’s like I’m asking me why I’m black. Who cares as to why I’m this way, I just am.” Dion doesn’t look Cathy directly in her eyes when talking about him being gay and feeling rejection.

“Seems like you felt the pain of rejection a lot in your life.”

“More than you know, in some ways I think rejection is the very reason that I’m in this office talking to you in the first place.”

“What is your earliest memory of being rejected?”

“Ouch. I need to take another drink before I tell you this one.”

“Is it that bad?”

“Not sure if bad is necessarily the right term to use--more so painful.”



August 5th, 2001

“DJ, what are you doing?” Kesiah asks in a slightly critical tone.

“Singing duh, I love to sing.”

“You do? Since when?” She rolls her eyes.

“Since always, I always sing in my plays at B.C. Cook.” Dion expresses with a child-like excitement

“Well you need to stop singing.”

“Why?”

“Because you aren’t good at it. Momma used to always say that ‘if you ain’t gone sing a song right then don’t sing it at all.” Keisha walks away, leaving Dion’s eyes full of tears that he silently lets out.



Present Therapy Session

“Keisha is your sister, correct?

“Yeah.” Dion twiddles his thumbs showing his anxiety from talking about his sister.

“When she told you that you couldn’t sing, how old were you?”

“I was seven, I looked at my sister at that time as my best friend. I looked to her for encouragement and support.”

“In that moment, do you feel like she failed you by crushing your expectations of her?”

“I did feel that way, wisdom and time has helped me to forgive her and understand that she wasn’t really trying to hurt my feelings. She was a thirteen-year-old girl who was still hurting from the death of her mother, our mother. And she didn’t fully know how to process the things that were going on in her life at that time. Looking back, I actually feel bad for not being more understanding about the pain she was in. I held that against her for a long time.

“I know you said that you forgave your sister but what about the effect of what she said? Do you still want to become a singer?”

“Not really, I mean she wasn’t entirely wrong in what she said. She wasn’t entirely right either. I did love singing and my elementary school was a performing arts school so I got to do every area of performance whether I was good at it or not. I decided that my real passion lies somewhere between not just performing but also creating.”

“So you want to be a music producer? Or a singer-songwriter?”



About the Author

Dijon McIntyre is an Author/Actor/Director amongst many other things. He was raised in the beautiful sunshine state of Florida which has had a profound effect on his writing and his artistic performances. Getting into acting at the young age of 6, he is familiar with many different types of performing including acting and music but he attributes his love for all of these things to his undying love for God. Raised as a Christian and now identifying as a “follower of Christ”, Dijon has a vision to use his publishing/production company FreedomArtz to open up opportunities for the people who want to make their dreams come true while still maintaining a liveable wage doing what they love. You can find any of his three books on Amazon, Google Books, or any major online retailer. 

Blog Tour: Foreign Affairs: Male Tales of Lust & Love by Daniel M. Jaffe

Author Daniel M. Jaffe and Gay Book Promotions host today's blog tour stop for collection, Foreign Affairs: Male Tales of Lust & Love! Read more info today!

BLOG TOUR

Book Title: Foreign Affairs: Male Tales of Lust & Love

Author:  Daniel M. Jaffe

Publisher: Rattling Good Yarns Press

Cover Artist: Ian Henzel

Genre/s:  Short stories, literary fiction, LGBT romance

Trope/s: Travel romance, flirtation, sexual encounters, history in contemporary life

Themes: Travel, sexual/gender identity, love, desire, loss,

friendship, historical memory, spirituality

Heat Rating:  3 flames

Length:  60 000 words/168 pages

It is a standalone book.

Goodreads

 

Buy Links

Amazon US  |   Amazon UK 

Publisher: Rattling Good Yarns Press

Paperback - US addresses only (includes FREE shipping)

 

 

Blurb 

In this newest story collection from award-winning writer, Daniel M. Jaffe, red-blooded American men make mischief while vacationing abroad. They encounter a serial killer in a Munich bathhouse, a gay Holocaust ghost in Prague, a shape-shifting seductress in Mexico City, a desperate prostitute in Seville, a closeted Catholic school administrator in Dublin, and many others. These stories will transport, titillate, intrigue, and tug at your heartstrings.  



Excerpt

Bill understood Quinn to be whispering “dirty,” but in the raspy, heavy brogue, the word came out as “dehrty”: “Yer a dehrr-ty, dehrr-ty man.” Quinn flicked out his tongue and sucked it in, frog-like. With a thurping sound: “You’re a dehrr-ty, dehrr-ty man,” thurp thurp thurp.

A journalist for the Chicago Tribune, Bill had arrived in Dublin this morning to write a human interest story on the upcoming gay marriage referendum. Polls anticipated Ireland becoming the first country to authorize gay marriage by public vote. Traditional, Catholic Ireland.

Not having slept on the plane—and his body reminding that he was older than he used to be—he spent the day napping in his Jury’s Inn Christchurch hotel room, studying local newspapers and webzines, making notes and listing questions for his article. He supped in his room on take-away from the “great wee chipshop” around the corner, Leo Burdock Fish & Chips—greasy, salty, thick-crusted smoked cod accompanied by more fries than he could possibly consume. Later on, he trimmed his gray beard, donned jeans and a button-down blue shirt that showed off his squarish pecs without appearing too obvious—his decades-old uniform whenever scoping out a new city’s gay life. Bill always enjoyed these forays most of all, surveying the terrain before his newspaper’s photographer arrived and hovered, thereby preventing Bill from conducting his most enjoyable background research.

Passionate encounters with locals were the secret to Bill’s success as human interest story writer—even in his late 50’s, he could still get laid with fair enough regularity, especially as exotic foreigner. Few journalists’ articles contained the under-the-skin insights Bill’s did, revelations feeling like disclosure to a trusted confidant. Bill’s interviews read like intimate pillow talk because that’s precisely what they were.

Bill put little stock in ethical baloney about maintaining journalistic distance: if you want to get an inside story, you need to get inside. Repressed countries were Bill’s specialty because they burst with scared horny locals who had few other bed partner options. Want a journalist to cover police harassment of Russian gay activists? brutality against gays in Iraq? death-threats against gays in Uganda? Send Bill with a pack of condoms to ferret out the under-cover(s) scoop. Only a matter of time before he’d win a Pulitzer. He sure was having fun trying.

Bill headed out in the cool evening for George, the nightclub touted on all Irish gay websites as Dublin’s primary gay hangout. He’d undoubtedly find some trick to “interview.”

Strolling down Dame Street—odd, he thought, how historically grand the word “Dame” sounded in Ireland, whereas in American ears it came across as outdated Al Capone cheap. He walked the narrow sidewalk past restaurants, pubs, cafés, repeatedly bumping shoulders with those walking toward him until he realized that the Irish walked the way they drove—on the left, unlike on-the-right Americans: head-on collisions were inevitable.

A scan around the cobblestone courtyard of Dublin Castle, a mix of red brick Georgian palace, gray medieval fortress, and white-gray Gothic revival chapel. A quick look-see at City Hall with its white-gray granite columns and triangular pediment. On the corner of South Great George’s Street, a main shopping avenue, he faced an enormous mural covering the entire side of a gray building: two young men, one in white sweater, the other in black, snuggling in romantic embrace. Larger-than-life gay love, four stories high. And tacked to a lamppost on the corner beneath it—a bold, green-lettered “Yes For Marriage Equality” poster sporting a rainbow flag. All this smack in the center of Catholic Dublin. A more in-your-face public display than he could recall having seen in Chicago’s Boystown.

That must be the place, with the rainbow flag over the entrance and a thick bouncer staring into Bill’s eye. He nodded at the guy and stepped inside. A low-lit cavernous space with stairs to the right—the upper level looked closed…well, it was a Sunday. The music was fast-paced and louder than he liked. Bill walked to the far end of the long bar with men and women in their 20’s chatting, noted the stage behind the bar, empty now of the drag acts he’d read about. He grabbed a black leather barstool, asked the muscular barman for a pint of Guinness, one of those touristy must-do’s. He savored the thick molasses foam, the mix of bitter and heavy sweet, then turned to the lean young man beside him, a handsome fellow with close-cropped blond hair, and introduced himself, knowing that his accent would lead at least to a where-are-you-from conversation. Bill slapped on his personae of naïve visitor: “All I basically know about Ireland is leprechauns and four-leaf clovers.”

“And all I know about America is that you all carry guns and shoot black teenagers when you’re strung out on crack.”



About the Author 

Daniel M. Jaffe is an award-winning writer whose short stories and personal essays have appeared in over half a dozen countries and several languages. He has been profiled in The Greenwood Encyclopedia of Multiethnic American Literature, and his work has been taught in college and university courses. Daniel is author of the novels Yeled Tov, The Genealogy of Understanding, The Limits of Pleasure, and the short story collection, Jewish Gentle and Other Stories of Gay-Jewish Living. He lives in California with his husband, the writer and professor, Leo Cabranes-Grant. 

Read more at www.DanielJaffe.com


Author Links

Blog/Website  |   Facebook:  Daniel M. Jaffe  

 

   

Hosted by Gay Book Promotions

 

Follow the tour and check out the other blog posts, interviews, and reviews here

Book Blast: Confessions of a Gay Curmudgeon by Andy V. Ambrose


Author Andy V. Ambrose and Gay Book Promotions host today's book blast for Confessions of a Gay Curmudgeon from NineStar Press! Check it out!

BOOK BLAST
Book Title: Confessions of a Gay Curmudgeon
Author: Andy V. Ambrose
Publisher: Nine Star Press
Cover Artist: Natasha Snow
Release Date: September 2, 2019
Genres: Contemporary, Literary/Genre Fiction
Theme: Older gay man searching for love
Heat Rating: 4 flames
Length: 62 100 words/292 pages
It is a standalone story.
Warning: references to non-consensual situations, no HEA or HFN

Buy Links



Blurb

Confessions of a Gay Curmudgeon recounts the adventures of Viktor, a fifty-year-old gay man in New York City trying to get back into the land of the living after the breakup of a twelve-year relationship. The novel examines the lives of a group of middle-aged gay men, exploring new facets of their sexuality while dealing with all the changes middle age brings.



Excerpt

SATURDAY AFTERNOON—FLOUNDERING

My erections aren’t what they used to be.

Well, Dr. S told me to write about the first thing that comes into my mind, so it’s what I’m doing. “Don’t think. Just write,” he said. “Stop censoring yourself, Viktor. This will help you in your therapy too, Viktor.”

Okay, okay. If that’s what the shrink ordered, let’s see if this works. We’re supposed to listen to our shrinks, right? That’s their job, right? They know how to get us out of whatever fucking funk we’re in, right?

So here we go. I’m writing about the first thing that comes to my mind and it’s my erections. Here it is, a lovely Saturday afternoon, sun shining, snow melting, spring a’coming, a perfect time to enjoy life. And what am I doing? Sulking in my apartment obsessing about my cock.

Hell of a problem to have on a day like today, isn’t it? Shit, be honest, Viktor. You’re supposed to be honest with this writing thing, aren’t you? That was Dr. S’s other directive, wasn’t it? Honesty. He was full of directives last session, wasn’t he? Oh well, maybe I need some directives.

So where was I? Oh yes. Gorgeous day, shitty mood, focusing on my cock when I should be enjoying life.

Oh, come on. It’s not just about my cock. I know that. After all, I did my share of screwing around when I was younger. Not that I was the biggest stud around in my heyday, but during those few glorious weeks my sex life got going, I learned how to have a good time. Yes, I did! But then I met Gio and fell in love. And he fell in love with me. And we had twelve years of bliss—more or less—until he left me last year.

“And I’ve been floundering ever since. Floundering? Ha! Flopping around is more like it. So I’ve been seeing Dr. S—ahem, Dr. Singsirinavin—I’ve been seeing him to help me out of this predicament. Seems like a nice enough guy, serious, quiet, with a scrawny body and a bit of an accent, though I’ll be damned if I know from where exactly. These shrinks never tell you anything about themselves, do they? I’ve been seeing Dr. S for a year already, and you would think by now I’d have an idea, but I don’t. To tell the truth, I don’t have much of an idea about anything, including whether he’s helping me.
But I’m trying. Goddamn it, I’m trying, you’ve got to give me that. Didn’t put all my eggs in one basket, either. Went to my primary-care guy too, to complain about my cock. Dr. Agnostulopolini. Different accent, different mystery country. Had to change doctors when my cheapo company switched insurances and I had to find someone new.

“And I’ve been floundering ever since. Floundering? Ha! Flopping around is more like it. So I’ve been seeing Dr. S—ahem, Dr. Singsirinavin—I’ve been seeing him to help me out of this predicament. Seems like a nice enough guy, serious, quiet, with a scrawny body and a bit of an accent, though I’ll be damned if I know from where exactly. These shrinks never tell you anything about themselves, do they? I’ve been seeing Dr. S for a year already, and you would think by now I’d have an idea, but I don’t. To tell the truth, I don’t have much of an idea about anything, including whether he’s helping me.

“And I’ve been floundering ever since. Floundering? Ha! Flopping around is more like it. So I’ve been seeing Dr. S—ahem, Dr. Singsirinavin—I’ve been seeing him to help me out of this predicament. Seems like a nice enough guy, serious, quiet, with a scrawny body and a bit of an accent, though I’ll be damned if I know from where exactly. These shrinks never tell you anything about themselves, do they? I’ve been seeing Dr. S for a year already, and you would think by now I’d have an idea, but I don’t. To tell the truth, I don’t have much of an idea about anything, including whether he’s helping me.
“But I’m trying. Goddamn it, I’m trying, you’ve got to give me that. Didn’t put all my eggs in one basket, either. Went to my primary-care guy too, to complain about my cock. Dr. Agnostulopolini. Different accent, different mystery country. Had to change doctors when my cheapo company switched insurances and I had to find someone new. He doesn’t know anything about me and doesn’t seem to care, either. Every time I ask a question, the side of his face twitches like he’s having a stroke. “Doctor,” I said last time, “my libido seems to have disappeared.”
“You know, it does fall off with age,” he says. Translation: you’re getting old.
“But not this suddenly, Doctor. Could it be the new blood pressure medicine you prescribed?” Translation: Fuck you. Don’t give me that you’re-getting-old shit. I’m fifty. That’s not old.”



About the Author
Andy V Ambrose grew up in the Boston area and moved to New York City after college. He worked in book publishing for many years, wearing many hats: Editorial, Copyediting, Proofreading, and Production. This is his first novel featuring Viktor, a fifty-year-old gay man trying to get back into the world of the living after the end of a twelve-year relationship. To relax, Andy loves to ride his bike, read, watch foreign and independent movies, and travel. He’s only made it to three continents so far but hopes to visit the rest soon. He lives in New York City.

Social Media Links




Review: A Scarcity of Condors (Venery #3) by Suanne Laqueur

Juleón "Jude" Tholet has survival in his DNA. His father, Cleon, lived through imprisonment and torture during Pinochet's military coup in Chile. His mother, Penny, risked everything to gain her husband's freedom and flee the country with their newborn son. But as a closeted gay teenager growing up in Vancouver, Jude is targeted by a neighborhood bully called El Cóndor, culminating in a vicious hate crime that forces the Tholets to flee their country again.

Jude cautiously rebuilds his life in Seattle, becoming an accomplished pianist, but his his wings have been clipped and he cannot seem to soar in his relationships. Only family remains a constant source of strength and joy, until a DNA test reveals something that shocks all the Tholets: Jude is not their child.

Stunned by the test results, the Tholets must dig into their painful past, re-examine their lives in 1973 Santiago and the events surrounding Jude's birth story. It’s a tale rooted in South America’s Operation Condor. It spreads through Pinochet’s terrifying regime of detention camps, torture, disappeared civilians and stolen children. The journey forces Penny Tholet to confront the gaps in her memory while Cleon must re-live an ordeal he’s long kept hidden away in a secret world. The tale ends with Jude digging through his genetic code in a quest to find his biological parents. Are they alive?

Or are they among Los Desaparecidos—the Disappeared Ones? Suanne Laqueur’s third book in the Venery series explores the desperate acts of love made in times of war, and the many ways family can be defined.



Disclaimer: I'm not going to be able to do this book justice with this review.

I went in warily since reviews were mixed and my own past experiences with this author have been uneven. To be perfectly frank, Ms. Laqueur has a penchant for penning painful books that tend to wring me out emotionally so I've learned to gird my loins. Her writing is some of the best there is, lyrical at times and evocative to the very end.

Why are these women here dancing on their own?
Why is there this sadness in their eyes?
Why are the soldiers here
Their faces fixed like stone?
I can't see what it is they despise
Dancing with the missing
They're dancing with the dead
They dance with the invisible ones
Their anguish is unsaid
They're dancing with their fathers
They're dancing with their sons
Dancing with their husbands
They dance alone
They dance alone

A Scarcity of Condors was no different than the previous two books in this series in that regard but this one carved out a special place in my heart and maybe, just maybe, turned me into a fan. No one was more surprised by this development than I since not only is this not a romance but it also delves deep into a very painful period in Chile's history filled with rape, genocide and unimaginable tortures during the reign of Pinochet.

So, you can imagine my surprise when I found myself not just engrossed, not just unable to put it down but moved to tears more than once usually over fairly innocuous exchanges between the characters.

These characters are exceptionally crafted and without that the whole thing would've fallen apart. The Tholets share the spotlight in A Scarcity of Condors. Penny and Cleón, the matriarch and patriarch of the family survived Operation Condor and fled to Canada with Jude in 1973 only to see their first born, Jude, survive a vile act of homophobia in high school forcing the Tholets to flee yet again to the U.S.

The narrative bounces around in time explaining their collective pasts, stirring into the mix the delightful and unflappable Serena Tholet, sister extraordinaire, as well as Tej Khoury. Tej is audacious and irresistible. He and Jude crash into each other and choose to stay crushed. Their chemistry is undeniable and I enjoyed their angst-free, genuine and heartfelt evolution from first-time into forever.

So there are romantic elements but by and large A Scarcity of Condors is a tour de force ensemble fiction that not only kicks over the rocks of humanity to examine the ugly underbelly but obliterates them. Ms. Laqueur rarely shies away from the darkness that exists in the human psyche but here she deftly paired it, again and again, with the triumphs over said darkness especially through reliance on family, however that may be defined or redefined, as it were.

One day we'll dance on their graves
One day we'll sing our freedom
One day we'll laugh in our joy
And we'll dance
One day we'll dance on their graves
One day we'll sing our freedom
One day we'll laugh in our joy
And we'll dance

~Sting

The Tholets were woven into the Venery thread seamlessly, like they'd been there all along and that too touched me. I'm even hopeful there will be another book forthcoming in this series. Technically this book could probably be read as a stand-alone but I don't think it will resonate as much without having read the previous two but especially An Exaltation of Larks, where the Pinochet storyline was introduced. In many ways, this seems like a venerable love letter to Chileans, particularly those that were disappeared.

If you're looking for a read that will dig its claws into you and not let go, look no further.




A copy was provided by NetGalley in exchange for an honest review.



Blog Tour + Giveaway: Hallelujah by Kim Fielding and F.E. Feeley Jr.


Authors Kim Fielding and F.E. Feeley Jr., along with Other Worlds Ink, host today's blog tour for new horror fiction, Hallelujah! Learn more today and enter in $20 Amazon gift card giveaway!


Hallelujah


Kim Fielding and F.E. Feeley Jr. have a new gay horror book out:
"Hallelujah."

Can you hear it?

Whispering in the dark.

Secrets only the dark knows.

Joseph Moore, choir director for the First Baptist Church of Lenora, Nebraska, has secrets of his own. Terrible, lonely secrets. One that involves natural human desire. One that calls forth powers he cannot begin to understand. Both with the potential to destroy him and those he loves.

Now the world is changing. The darkness, the shadows, the ghosts, are closing in—and Joseph and his lover, Kevin, are being stalked by a merciless demon, hell-bent on possession.

Can you hear it now?

Warnings: violence. This is not a romance.

There in the dark.

It's whispering your name.

Amazon | iBooks | Barnes & Noble | Kobo | Smashwords





Giveaway

Kim and F.E. are giving away a $20 Amazon gift card with this cover reveal and tour. For a chance to win, enter via Rafflecopter:

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Direct Link: http://www.rafflecopter.com/rafl/display/b60e8d47103/?




Excerpt

“NO!”

Joseph fought against the hands on his shoulders. The room was sweltering, and all his strength had sapped away.

“NO!”

“Joseph, open your eyes! Open your eyes, dammit!”

He was being shaken, and despite his unwillingness, his eyes opened. Kevin’s face stared down at him.

“Fuck you. Let me go!”

Joseph pulled away and fell backward onto the altar steps. His attempt to break the fall caused his wrist to smart painfully, and he whimpered. His whole body shook; he felt sick to his stomach.

Kevin raised his hands in surrender. “What the hell, man? Who did this to you?”

“What?”

“What do you mean, ‘what’? You’re beat to shit. Did someone jump you?”

Joseph looked down and saw his scratched-up legs and swollen ankle. He scanned the sanctuary, half expecting the shadowed figure to be lurking somewhere nearby. But that wasn’t the case. All the lights were on, brilliantly illuminating every corner. There was no sign of the spirit who normally haunted the place.

“Who are you looking for?”

Joseph faced Kevin once again. “What? No one. What are you doing here?”

Although Kevin had been bare-chested at their last meeting, he was wearing a shirt now. Well, part of a shirt. It was an old Budweiser tee with the sleeves cut out and the sides wide open. When he moved, it revealed glimpses of his chest and flat stomach. Joseph felt his face flush as he averted his gaze.

“I was driving by and saw all the lights on and the door open. Figured the joint was getting robbed or somethin’. Then I found you wailing on the floor in…. Damn, dude. Look at your wrist.”

Joseph saw it was swollen. The memory of where he’d been flashed in his mind once more. The red-eyed gaze was burned into his memory.

But that had all been a dream, hadn’t it?

Please, Lord, let it have been a dream.

“Who did this to you?” Kevin repeated with a furrowed brow.

“Nobody. Look, I came back here because I thought I left something, and I fell. I must have banged my head or something.”

“You fell. Where? Into a war zone?”

Joseph snorted a laugh and looked up at him ruefully. “I don’t know what happened.” He hoped Kevin would leave it alone.

Outside, thunder crashed loudly enough to make them jump, and through the front door of the church, they could see the rain falling in torrents.

“Shit, my car windows!” Kevin took off running.

Joseph watched him go, Kevin’s ass bouncing as his long legs carried him out of the door. “Dammit,” Joseph muttered as he clenched his eyes closed.

He tried to get up, but as soon as he put weight on his ankle, it gave and forced him to sit back down.

What am I going to do?

Just then he saw the ghost once more. She was floating on the upstairs balcony, looking down at him. Her mouth was moving, and if Joseph sat really still, he swore he could hear her words, carried on the wind that howled through the open church door.

Rock of Ages, cleft for me

Let me hide myself in thee

He felt sadness wash over him. She wasn’t terrible to look at; in life she must have been quite beautiful. But he didn’t know how to help her.

“You must help them, cher.” Celine had said.

Kevin dashed in through the door. His jeans were soaked and his wannabe T-shirt stuck to his muscular build. “Well, we got two options.”

“Yeah, what’s that?”

“We could wait out the storm before I take you home, or I can haul your crippled ass right now into said storm and take you home.”

Joseph reached out his good hand to Kevin, who grasped it and pulled. Joseph lurched to his feet and, in trying to keep the weight off his swollen ankle, ended up clinging to Kevin. They were almost nose to nose, staring into each other’s eyes as they held fast.

Blood pounded in his Joseph’s head. “I gotta get home.”

Kevin’s long eyelashes fluttered once, twice, three times before registering what he’d said. Yet his hands didn’t move. The two of them looked as if they were on a dance floor waiting for a waltz to start.

“Yeah, let’s get you home. Here, lean on me.”

“I appreciate it.”

They moved slowly across the floor of the church.

“You gonna tell me who did this?”

“I honestly don’t know.”

“Crazy shit, man.”

Joseph nodded. “Yup. It’s been a hell of a night.”

They closed the door behind them, got into the car, and drove cautiously into the downpour with the windshield wipers slapping.

Five minutes later, the lights they’d forgotten to turn off went dark.




Author Bios


Kim Fielding - Hallelujah

Kim Fielding
Kim Fielding is the bestselling author of numerous m/m romance novels, novellas, and short stories. Like Kim herself, her work is eclectic, spanning genres such as contemporary, fantasy, paranormal, and historical. Her stories are set in alternate worlds, in 15th century Bosnia, in modern-day Oregon. Her heroes are hipster architect werewolves, housekeepers, maimed giants, and conflicted graduate students. They’re usually flawed, they often encounter terrible obstacles, but they always find love.

After having migrated back and forth across the western two-thirds of the United States, Kim calls California home. She lives there with her family and her day job as a university professor, but escapes as often as possible via car, train, plane, or boat. This may explain why her characters often seem to be in transit as well. She dreams of traveling and writing full-time.

Author Website: http://kfieldingwrites.com
Author Facebook (Author Page): https://www.facebook.com/KFieldingWrites/
Author Twitter: @KFieldingWrites
Author Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/kfieldingwrites/
Author Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/4105707.Kim_Fielding
Author QueeRomance Ink: https://www.queeromanceink.com/mbm-book-author/kim-fielding/
Author Amazon: https://www.amazon.com/Kim-Fielding/


F.E. Feeley Jr. - Hallelujah

F.E. Feeley Jr.
First and foremost, I am a husband to my wonderful husband, John. I am a father of our five-year-old German Shephard, Kaiser. I am an avid reader of Mysteries, Horror, and Suspense, and biographies. I am a gamer. My favorite ones are Dragon Age, Mass Effect, Star Trek Online, Skyrim, Assassin’s Creed, Fallout, and Civilization Five. I love to cook and I love trying new recipes (hint hint). I am an avid music junkie from POPular music to Opera, to Showtunes, Gospel, Rock, Rap, and Hip Hop. I am also a Poet – a lot of which is offered on this web page for free. And I do some gay fiction writing from time to time.

I love connecting with people. As an ex- fundi, I grew up in a world where there was this invisible boundary set down between me and the world around me. I felt more like an observer than an actual participant in that world. Since I’ve left fundamentalism – it has been my constant endeavor to be a part of the world. To be a part of humanity. And when I write my poetry or my books, I draw from the experiences of being raised in that environment as well as the experiences of tasting the bouquet of humanity I’d been denied all those years ago.

Author Website: https://fefeeleyjr.com
Author Facebook (Author Page): https://www.facebook.com/groups/170296487228770/
Author Twitter: @fefeeleyjr
Author Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/f.e.feeleyjr/
Author Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/6806438.F_E_Feeley_Jr_
Author QueeRomance Ink: https://www.queeromanceink.com/mbm-book-author/f-e-feeley-jr/
Author Amazon: https://www.amazon.com/F-E-Feeley-Jr/


LOGO - Other Worlds Ink

Guest Review: Of Our Own Device by M.K. South

What do you do when you realize that the American Dream you've been working for isn't enough if it's yours alone? And what you're told to do will destroy the only true friend you've ever had?

Summer of 1985. Jack Smith is a rookie CIA case officer posted at the American Embassy in Moscow. Despite his gregarious nature, Jack is a lonely man: not only is he a reluctant spy, he is also gay.

When he meets Eton Volkonsky, a talented nuclear physics student, Jack's bosses instruct him to develop the Russian as a future agent. Their friendship deepens, and Jack is torn between his suspicion that Eton and friends are with the KGB and his attraction to the man. But he continues telling himself and his bosses that he is just doing his job, developing his agent.

Only when he leaves Russia does Jack admit that he has been fooling himself. He takes on assignments in various countries, with a hope that eventually they will get him back to Moscow.

As introspection and growing doubts about what he does for living torment Jack,the world is buffeted by a whirlwind of dramatic events - diplomatic and spy wars, the rise of AIDS, the Chernobyl catastrophe, the war in Afghanistan and the disintegration of the communist bloc.

Given a second chance, will Jack make the right choice?




Reviewer: Annery

It’s 1985, Glasnost and Perestroika have come to Russia, AIDS, which had been steamrolling through the gay community, is making its presence known to the world at large, and the Year of the Spy is in full swing between the C.I.A and the KGB. Welcome to the world compellingly and masterfully brought back to life by M. K. South in Of Our Own Device.

To his colleagues in the American Embassy in Moscow, Jack Smith is a recently appointed junior officer with the USIA. In reality he’s a deep cover C.I.A. operative whose persona is that of a gregarious, friendly, and at times oblivious American, though he is no such thing. It turns out Jack is uniquely qualified for life as a spy. He’s a gay man who came of age in a less accepting era (I’m guessing he’s over 25 but under 30) and place. He grew up in an infelicitous household, complete with dead mother and an abusive, alcoholic, bigoted father. In short he knows how to hide in plain sight in spite of physically being a looker: tall & dark with cornflower blue eyes. All he wanted was an escape, a better life, a ranch in California, the reality of which the army and later the C.I.A. promise like a mirage in the desert.

Jack is tasked with befriending any and all comers and, when possible, recruiting future agents or being a dangle. He not only speaks fluent Russian but due to his own curious nature is knowledgeable of the mores and culture which endears him to the locals and he can’t help but return the affection. In spite of everything he’s wonderfully human and that’s one of the almost surprising things the author does so well: making the characters fully rounded individuals who live in a recognizable world and don’t necessarily subscribe the easy construct of spy, agent, villain, hero etc. Within Jack’s purview falls Eton May-Volkonsky, the son of an American and what amounts to Russian royalty; the grandson of, in the world of the book, the Soviet originator of the Nuclear Winter Theory and a physicist in his own right. He’s also a musician, a poet, and generally a sweet soul who seems almost too fragile for the harsh world of the 1980’s USSR. Even so, he’s no wilting flower in need of rescue. In need of love? Who isn’t?

The book opens, during a performance of Eugene Onegin by Tchaikovsky at the Bolshoi Theater, the spy/thriller fans may think of the Mission Impossible or Jason Bourne movies but as the story progresses it put me in mind of the Bourne books and even of Le Carre, with the almost relentless emphasis on the daily minutiae in the life of a spy which paired with that of a bureaucrat is endless reports, counter intelligence runs to make sure you are or are not being shadowed by the “organs”, answering to office drones who are not in the field, and agencies who at times have contradictory agendas. In Jack’s personal circumstances he also has to work extra to keep up the facade of a heterosexual man. All of this is exhausting when all he wants is a weekend trip to Helsinki, have some meaningless sex, and watch the Live Aid concert.

I don’t know how much is too much to reveal in terms of the plot/events of the book. The bare bones would be that Jack comes in to the orbit of Eton, Lara, an aspiring actress and the daughter of the Deputy Minister of Culture, and their circle of friends. Though they’re all young, 20 or 21, they’re irresistibly attracted to Jack and all of his Americanness. For Eton, Jack is wide open spaces and a dream-like California. I had “Hotel California”, the whole album, on repeat for a week. It really sets the tone for the book. Eton feels an unspeakable attraction for Jack, one he can’t quite iterate even to himself. He has no point of reference for it. Jack feels the same but he’s so deep in the closet due to work, the times, and choice that a future together isn’t a foregone conclusion not least of all because almost all of Jack’s interactions with Eton are based on suspecting Eton of possibly being a current or future KGB agent and trying, albeit halfheartedly, to recruit him as an asset for the C.I.A. Needless to say those are less than ideal circumstances for anything meaningful to develop and though this is definitely not a romance, M/M or otherwise, the relationship between Eton and Jack does shape the course of the story and ultimately of their lives. Some might object to some of Jack’s interactions with Eton, more specifically how he treats him, like a potential agent, however he behaves entirely how a well trained case officer should. Bravo.

The bulk of the story takes place during 1985 & 1986 at the height of a veritable spy tit-for-tat between the U.S. and the slowly collapsing USSR. These are perilous times, everything is in flux, the earth is shifting, who can be trusted? where do you draw the line? how close to the edge can you stand without falling over? how much of your authentic self can you sacrifice for what you believe to be the “greater good”? The denouement of the story takes us to the latter part of 1989 when the cracks that were evident within the power structures have become craters. Afghanistan, the Soviet Union’s Vietnam, is blowing up, Denmark legally recognized the first same-sex marriage, and things in Berlin are about to take a sharp turn. Coincidentally Berlin is where our principals meet again after a lengthy separation. They haven’t gotten through the years unscathed and they can’t remain static.

I won’t lie. The book is long and initially it gave me pause but once I started it was like reading the diary of someone, Jack, with a life way more interesting than my own. The bulk of the story is told from Jack’s P.O.V. but there is a small section of journal entries from Eton, which is genius, because we get to be in the head of this complicated, smart, and beautiful Russian man, Jack’s counterpart and very much his equal. They both come from a place where they need to hide an important part of who they are. Such are the seeds of what promises to be a great relationship. Jack and Eton will linger in your mind long after you turn the last page.

Ultimately, this wasn’t a 5 star read for me because I desperately wanted, nay needed another chapter, an epilogue, or any kind of coda to comfort my heart as to Jack & Eton’s future. That’s how much M. K. South makes these characters vibrant and alive. I cared about them like dear friends whose story I never wanted to end.

For those interested in genre classification I’d say this is more of a spy/thriller/action-suspense with a same-sex couple as part of the story, and all that entails in that place and time, but definitely not a romance, though there absolutely is a love story.

Full disclosure: The author offered me a copy of this book in exchange for an honest review, however after reading the first chapter I realized I was all in and purchased my own copy because, whenever possible I like to support artists/writers and don’t want any BS from Amazon. *fingers crossed*





Don't miss the author's visit and blog tour for Of Our Own Device HERE!