Release Blitz + Giveaway: The Homecoming Prince (The Castaway Prince #3) by Isabelle Adler

Author Isabelle Adler and IndiGo Marketing host today's release blitz for The Homecoming Prince (The Castaway Prince #3)! Find out more about the latest in the fantasy series and enter in the $10 NineStar Press credit giveaway!

Title: The Homecoming Prince

Series: The Castaway Prince, Book Three

Author: Isabelle Adler

Publisher: NineStar Press

Release Date: 05/17/2021

Heat Level: 3 - Some Sex

Pairing: Male/Male

Length: 25300

Genre: Fantasy, LGBTQIA+, action/adventure, bisexual, cross-dressing, established couple, fantasy, genderbending, genderfluid, political, royalty, war

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Description

Having returned to the continent following Warren’s illness, Stephan and Warren are certain they’ve escaped the notice of spies from Seveihar and are ready to build a new future for themselves. However, their quiet life is shaken once again when they receive a message from Stephan’s sister, Nessa. She begs him to return home and help her stand against their older brother, Robert, who is abusing his power by oppressing his subjects and starting an unnecessary war with the neighboring country of Esnia.

With dark family secrets coming to light, Stephan is faced with a difficult choice between safety and happiness in exile with the man he loves, and his duty as a prince to protect his people from tyranny. And yet, amid all the dangers, the greatest risk he might face is a broken heart…

The Homecoming Prince is the final book in The Castaway Prince series. For best enjoyment, please read the books in order.

Excerpt

The Homecoming Prince
Isabelle Adler © 2021
All Rights Reserved

“I’m glad to say you look slightly less awful today,” Stephan said.

His tone was teasing, but it masked a very real concern. Warren’s bout of illness had been so prolonged and so grave that for a while Stephan had feared the worst.

Those days had been nothing short of horrible. He’d known plenty of wretchedness and weathered plenty of dangers, but nothing could ever come close to the long hours spent by his lover’s sickbed, holding his hand, wiping the sweat off his brow, and hoping the next rattling breath wouldn’t be the last while Warren thrashed about with fever.

“Always such a sweet talker,” Warren said.

A weak smile played on his lips as he brought a cup of tea to his mouth. He sat up on the narrow bed, propped against a stack of pillows. The only room they could afford at the inn had a tiny fireplace, which gave off more smoke than heat. The feeble flames fought a losing battle against the mid-autumn chill seeping through the windows and walls. But Stephan had piled all the blankets he could find on the bed, and the tea was hot and strong, at least.

Stephan took his own cup, savoring the warmth that spread through his fingers.

“You should go downstairs to the common room and warm by the big fire,” Warren said, having undoubtedly noticed him shiver. The illness did nothing to lessen his usual perspicacity. “Maybe get something to eat too.”

Stephan shook his head. They were running too low on funds for him to luxuriate in more than one meal a day now, and they’d already eaten lunch. Besides, he wouldn’t leave Warren alone in a drafty, cramped room while he enjoyed himself downstairs. Had their roles been reversed (as they so often had been), Warren wouldn’t have moved from Stephan’s side even for a moment unless for some dire need.

“I don’t actually mind the winter,” Stephan said wistfully. “We’ve been traveling through hot-climate lands for so long, the nip in the air is refreshing. It reminds me of home.”

Warren raised a skeptical eyebrow, but Stephan was being truthful. He’d loved Segor; the short time spent living together in the port city of Varta, free to express their love for each other, had been the happiest in his life. But when they were forced to flee, pursued by his brother Robert’s assassins, things had begun to go awry. The South Isles, where they’d found a temporary refuge, had proved too much of an extreme environment for them to thrive in. When Warren had fallen sick, the local physician had advised he return to the familiar climate of the continent—which they had, despite the risk inherent in such a journey.

“I do miss Seveihar sometimes,” Stephan confessed, coming to perch on the edge of the bed with his cup of tea. Warren folded his long legs, making room for him. “Even the winters at the castle, with the winds whistling through window cracks, and those endless creaking staircases. I always knew the cold and the snow would abate eventually, and then it’d be spring again, and then summer. The summers were always so beautiful there, up in the mountains.”

“I remember.” Traces of hoarseness clung to Warren’s voice, but already he sounded so much more vital than before. “I remember how you loved to roam the woods around the castle. Until…”

“Until it became too dangerous for me to go out on my own,” Stephan said. “It still is.”

The old pain of realizing his own brother hated him enough to plot his assassination flared back into life. The worries and tribulations of the last few weeks had almost made him forget the true reason for his self-imposed exile, but he knew better now than to think it was all behind him. The events that had driven them from their safe little haven in Segor into the dangers of the unknown had demonstrated all too clearly that they couldn’t afford to let their guard down again.

Warren reached for Stephan’s hand, threading their fingers together, and they exchanged a brief, bitter smile. Some of Stephan’s anger and disappointment dissipated into their shared warmth, as they always did.

“I’m sorry,” Stephan said.

“For what?”

“I seem to always bring danger to our doorstep. Even when we move halfway across the world.”

“And if it weren’t for you, I’d never have seen anything of the world.”

“Don’t joke. You fell sick because of me. If I hadn’t been so careless in Varta, we wouldn’t have had to travel so far, putting so much strain on you. It’s my fault.”

“It’s not,” Warren said. “And if I had a choice, I would have done it again. All of it. I would do anything just to be with you.”

Stephan shook his head, swallowing around the lump suddenly lodged in his throat.

“I love you,” he said, ignoring the treacherous crack in his voice. “So much.”

Warren’s hand on his tightened, and his eyes flashed in the low lighting, illuminated by the same surge of desire that washed over Stephan. That smoldering look made Stephan’s heart beat faster, filling him with the hope and relief for which he’d yearned for days.

He took the half-empty cup out of Warren’s hand and leaned down to brush his lips against his, tasting the strong flavor of steeped herbs.

It took some effort to pull back. He wanted nothing more than to sink further into Warren’s embrace, but the faint wheezing in Warren’s chest reminded him of the need for prudence.

“It’s late. I’ll go downstairs to fetch us some dinner,” Stephan said, rising from the bed. The desire to see Warren hale again outweighed the need to be frugal.

“I’m not that hungry. At least, not for food. Can’t you stay?”

“You need to eat to get your strength back,” Stephan said sternly. “If you can kiss, you can chew.”

Warren rolled his eyes and sighed dramatically, settling back on the pillows. “Fine. Just please hurry back.”

Purchase

NineStar Press | Books2Read

Meet the Author

A voracious reader from the age of five, Isabelle Adler has always dreamed of one day putting her own stories into writing. She loves traveling, art, and science, and finds inspiration in all of these. Her favorite genres include sci-fi, fantasy, and historical adventure. She also firmly believes in the unlimited powers of imagination and caffeine.

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Release Blitz: Malthusia Fate by Emma Jaye

Join author Emma Jaye and Gay Book Promotions hosts today release blitz for first in the series, Malthusia Fate! Discover more about the non-shifter tale today!

RELEASE BLITZ

Book Title: Malthusia Fate

Author: Emma Jaye

Publisher: Purindoors Publications

Cover Artist: Nero Seal

Release Date: 14 August, 2020

Genre/s: Dark, genderfluid parallel universe, 

omegaverse (non-shifter, scientifically plausible)

Trope/s: Hurt/comfort. Abuse/oppression survival

Themes: kidnap, scientific experimentation, forced pregnancy, 

religious/political oppression. Knotting/heat

Heat Rating: 4 flames

Length: 130 000 words

It is the first in a series but works alone and has an HFN ending.

Goodreads

Buy Links - Available on Kindle Unlimited

Universal Link | Amazon US | Amazon UK

 

Our perfect society is tainted.

Blurb

I run because I don’t have a choice. I run for those who can’t, for those inside me.

The Three Faced God should have chosen my Fate, should have molded me according to the needs of my fellow Malthusians, but some assume they are above even God. I should have been at least a beta, hopefully an alpha, but never this. They thought changing my body would change my soul, that I’d be a compliant omega while they used and experimented on me. Others die, others submit, and say its their Fate. I know different. A malthusian caused this, one of my own kind. They think they’ve won, but I’ll win, simply by living another second, another day. But can I survive alone?

Adult content, a gritty, alternate universe storyline, including genetic engineering, captivity, torture, domestic abuse, forced pregnancy, and murder. Alpha, beta, and omega genderfluid characters.

Trailer Video

Excerpt

Sunlight streamed through the windows. People were doing chores, inside and outside. How could the betas go about their normal routine as if nothing had happened? Because it doesn’t matter to them, SHE didn’t matter to them. There was a replacement on the way. Life would go on for the Grabars as if Ma had never been here. Well, Tav would remember her.

A cheerful whistle came from below. One moment Tav stood in the bedroom, the next they were hurtling out the front door, launching themselves at the surprised beta, screaming, punching, ripping at clothes. The beta fell backward, letters flying up in the air. Tav landed on top of the stunned beta, who only tried to defend their face from the hysterical assault of a child.

“Tav? Tav, what the hell? It’s just the post-beta,” Sayen shouted as the older beta tried to pull the struggling, nightshirt-clad youngster off their victim.

Strong hands grabbed Tav’s upper arms. Tav left the ground and stared into Pa’s bloodshot eyes. His bare, hairy chest, beard, and musky scent enforced his identity.

“You will not embarrass her by behaving like a wild animal. You and your siblings are her legacies. Act like it.”

Without another word, he placed Tav back on his feet, growled, ‘Deal with it’ at his sibling who had arrived, breathing hard.

Telish strode back into the house, wearing only his formal kilt, not looking back at his devastated child. Tav stood there, the anger gone, watching Ma’s mate, the alpha who had put her aside, had killed her, walk away because he had more important things to do than take time to comfort or explain why Tav no longer had a Ma. Tav didn’t matter, any more than Ma had mattered.

Sayen shooed the rapidly growing crowd away as Daven led Tav by the arm to the stone steps of the porch. Daven sat Tav down and put their jacket around the child’s shivering shoulders. The house stretched out on either side of them, the autumn flowers in the window boxes Ma had planted moved to and fro in the cold wind.

In a week, the weather had turned; Tav’s world had turned. Soon, everything would die as winter took hold. Somehow, it felt right that the whole world would soon suffer like Tav suffered.

They sat side by side, untie and nibling, silently watching the normal goings on of the estate for a good ten minutes. The estate went on as normal. Tav didn’t understand.

Not even the post-beta looked at them as they came out of the house after Sayen treated the scratches. They grabbed their bicycle and pedaled back toward the main road.

“What did the post-beta do?” Daven asked.

Tav didn't have a logical answer, so they shrugged. A long, heavy arm draped over Tav’s shoulders and squeezed. Tears prickled Tav’s eyes. Daven might not say it, but they did care, at least a little. Unlike Telish.

“Come on, Tav, there must have been something. I’d expect that sort of thing from Zep, but not you.”

Tav stiffened, insulted and a little afraid of the implications. “Why? Don't you think I can be aggressive? I'm not an omega; I don't blindly accept everything.”

Daven squeezed again. “Oh, I know that, pup. Although I’ve known omegas who packed quite a wallop before they manifested. I remember a certain scamp called Per who threw an apple at me after I stuck my tongue out at them.”

Tav turned wide eyes to Daven. “Ma did that?”

Daven chuckled. “She, or rather they at the time, most certainly did. The lump on the back of my head lasted a week. Now, what did the postie do to warrant a beating by Tav the Terrible? Because if I agree, I'm going to chase the offender down and punch them myself.”

“They were whistling.” It sounded ridiculous to Tav as soon as the words left their mouth.

Daven heaved themself off the porch, pulling up their sleeves. “Right, that’s it, bloody nose time.”

Tav jumped up and grabbed Daven’s arm, the post-beta didn’t deserve a bloody nose.

“No, don’t,” Tav giggled.

“I’ll have to take it out on you then,” Daven said and swung Tav up into their arms. After reducing Tav to a gasping wreck by tickling them to within an inch of their life, Daven turned Tav to face them. Tav’s brief happiness crashed.

Oh God, I laughed, I actually laughed, and Ma isn’t even cold yet.

Daven’s smile disappeared too. “She wouldn't want you to be sad. It was her time, part of the Almighty’s plan. Your Pa’s right, the best thing we can do to honor her is to carry on and be the best we can, but don’t think any of us aren’t upset. We all are, and although I wear kilts, not dresses, I promise I’ll be here for you, ok?”

Tav blinked back stinging tears, and Daven put them down. “That's the brave Tav I know. Go get dressed then start on your schoolwork; I'll be in later. Try not to attack any more delivery betas, even if they are whistling. They didn’t know, ok?”

Drawing up every ounce of courage, Tav nodded and went back inside to make Ma proud.

 

About the Author 

Emma was destined to be a little quirky after being born as an unexpected twin in Hungry Bottom (Yes, it’s a real place).

Known as the Queen of Angst because she loves putting damaged, often sweet and funny characters through hell before letting them have a HFN or HEA ending.

She blames her rebellious muse (who looks like Chris from the Paint Series) for the erotic aspects tickling the angst and the humour climbing into bed with the erotic.

When not writing or reading in leafy Sussex, England, she herds Birman cats and sons; both groups argue that there are too many of the other sort.

Social Media Links

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Hosted by Gay Book Promotions

 

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

Giveaway + Release Blitz: Half-Light (The Cassie Tam Files #5) by Matt Doyle

Join author Matt Doyle & IndiGo Marketing in celebrating the release of Half-Light (The Cassie Tam Files, #5). Find out more about this LGBTQIA science fiction novel, read an excerpt & enter in the NineStar Press giveaway for a $10 gift card too!

Title: Half-Light

Series: The Cassie Tam Files, Book Five

Author: Matt Doyle

Publisher: NineStar Press

Release Date: March 2, 2020

Heat Level: 1 - No Sex

Pairing: No Romance

Length: 48300

Genre: Science Fiction, LGBTQIA+, genderfluid, interspecies, space opera, space travel, third gender

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Synopsis

With Angel Tanner, the android that runs California’s criminal underworld, pulling the strings, PI Cassie Tam finds herself thrust into a conflict with New Hopeland’s biggest and baddest. But working with the murderous AI may be the only way that Cassie can get to the bottom of her home’s greatest mystery: What is New Hopeland City?



 As she struggles to balance her dealings with allies and enemies alike, Cassie is left with a difficult choice. She has always straddled the line between light and dark. Now, the time to decide which side she’s on is drawing close…if she can figure out which is which.

Excerpt

Half Light

Matt Doyle © 2020

All Rights Reserved

“Diu.”

I look to my right and find a free space
to pull the car into. I have a couple of different ringtones on my cell phone,
each assigned to give me a clear idea of whether I need—or want—to answer it.
This generic-but-far-too-loud melody marks this call as coming from one
particular number. Given what day it is, I’ve been expecting to hear from them.
The last few days have been spent playing a game that’s essentially the adult
equivalent of passing notes in class. I leave a note somewhere, I get another
at home, I respond somewhere else. It’s been a pain, and it’s all been leading
up to this. “It’s where it leads next I’m worried about.”

I steel myself and tap the screen to
answer the call. A female voice comes through, dripping with an overacted
panic. “Is…is that Cassandra Tam?”

I recognise the voice instantly. “It is.
Cassie or Caz is fine.”

“My name is Anna Welch. I need help,
Miss Tam.”

I sigh. “Well, that’s what I’m here for.
Do you want to discuss this over the phone, or would you rather meet in
person?”

“In person,” she replies, and I can hear
the smile in her voice. “Somewhere neutral would be best. I’m rather paranoid,
you see.”

“Okay, that’s fine. Where?”

“I’ll text you the location.”

She hangs up, and the text comes through
almost immediately. Once I’ve finished reading it, I can’t help but smile. She
wants to meet at an old abandoned warehouse. It’s one I’m familiar with. A few
months back, I broke up a dog fight in the same building. During the case, I
discovered there’s a secret entrance to the building via an underground network
of hallways. That gives me a way to monitor her if I need to. Or a convenient
escape route.

I hit the speed dial for Lori, and it
goes straight to her answering service. After the beep, I say, “Hey, it’s
Cassie. I guess you’re driving. Listen, I’ve just had a call from a potential
client, and I’m gonna have to go meet with them. I’m still coming, but it may
be worth checking what later times there are for the film, just in case this
runs long. Anyway. Be with you soon.”

I throw my phone onto the passenger seat
next to me and pull out into the light traffic of the New Hopeland afternoon.

*

By the time I reach the warehouse, I’ve
already run through a number of different scenarios in my head. None of them
ended well, so I’m putting my faith in reality right now. “No fear, Tam, this
was a voluntary trip,” I remind myself, and push the main door open. Inside
looks the same as it did the last time I was here, minus the boxed area. And
people.

Frowning, I make my way towards the back
of the building and start checking doors. Finally, I spot a far-too-tight black
ponytail, illuminated by the screen of a computer. “Welch. Real cute using the
surname of the woman you murdered,” I say, just loud enough to make sure she
heard it.

Angel Tanner spins in her chair towards
me and laughs, casually turning her monitor off as she does so. “Now,
detective, you know full well Harold did that.”

“The way I understand it, it amounts to
much the same thing, eh?” I walk into the room and she rises to meet me. When
she offers a handshake, I take it on instinct.

“Actually, no. The core result is the
same, but the point is it wasn’t me. That makes it a very different thing, at
least in the eyes of the law. Still, I’m happy you reached out.”

“I almost didn’t,” I say and then shake
my head. “No, that’s not true. I considered looking for a different way to
contact you after I found out our mutual acquaintance was Gary Locke. You could
have got in touch any time you wanted.”

“Yes, I could have. But I knew talking
to Mister Locke would be hard for you after that whole unfortunate incident
with your girlfriend and her brother.”

“Unfortunate incident?” I reply, my
words dripping with a mix of anger and shock. “He tried to kill both of us. And
he convinced her brother to take his own life for a cause that wasn’t even
real.”

“Which is why I did it this way. I
needed to know you were serious in your intention. Oh, and the cause was real,
I’m certain of that. Or the part Locke cared about was anyway.”

I grunt and shake my head. “I didn’t
come here to talk about conspiracy theories. You said I wanted to know what’s
happening in New Hopeland, and you’re right. You want help to find out the same
thing, so I came. Can we please get on with this? I have plans.”

She smiles her creepy smile and nods.
“You and me both, detective. But that’s fine. Today was more about checking
you’re on board than anything. So, this will be our base of operations for the
time being. It’s out of the way, and it’s neither used nor monitored, so it’s
fit for purpose.”

I shrug. “Seems okay. It’s easy enough
to get to.”

“I should hope so. You’ll be spending a
good amount of time here. Now, to business. What I said on the phone wasn’t
entirely false; I really do need your help. As you can imagine, I can’t move
freely right now, and my links in the city aren’t particularly well suited for
certain jobs. Like the one I have for you to do tomorrow.”

“Which is?”

She pulls an envelope out of her pocket
and hands it to me. “This contains a couple of photographs relating to Anna
Welch’s case. You’re going to visit Mister Locke at the prison tomorrow morning
and question him about them. They contain some gifts for him, a mild drug on
one, and a special communicator on the other. You’ll find a corresponding
communicator in there, too, along with instructions as to what to do with it.
Make sure you read them somewhere cameras can’t see them clearly.”

“Great. You know, he wasn’t happy to see
me the last time.”

“I don’t doubt it. Harold will make sure
he plays nice though. I trust you can do the same?”

“For now.”

“Good enough.” She waves me away and
heads back to her computer. “Now, go enjoy yourself. We’ll talk more soon.”

Play nicely. Follow orders until you
know more. I leave without another word.

Purchase

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

Meet the Author

Matt Doyle is a speculative fiction author from the UK and identifies as pansexual and genderfluid. Matt has spent a great deal of time chasing dreams, a habit which has led to success in a great number of fields. To date, this has included spending ten years as a professional wrestler, completing a range of cosplay projects, and publishing multiple works of fiction.



 These days, Matt can be found working on multiple novels and stories, blogging about pop culture, and plotting and planning far too many projects.

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Release Blitz + Giveaway: Peacemaker (Dalí Tamareia #2) by E.M. Hamill

Author E.M. Hamill and IndiGo Marketing celebrate the release of Peacemaker (Dalí Tamareia #2)! Find out more about the LGBTQIA+ sci-fi fiction today and enter in the $10 NineStar Press credit giveaway!

Title: Peacemaker

Series: A Dalí Tamareia Novel

Author: E.M. Hamill

Publisher: NineStar Press

Release Date: March 2, 2020

Heat Level: 3 - Some Sex

Pairing: No Romance

Length: 78000

Genre: Science Fiction/Fantasy, LGBTQIA+, genderfluid, interspecies, space opera, space travel, third gender

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Synopsis

Third-gender operative Dalí Tamareia thought their life as an ambassador ended when they joined a galactic intelligence agency. When they’re yanked out of the field and tapped to negotiate the surrender of deadly bio-engineered warriors who crashed into hostile territory, Dalí is thrust headfirst back into the tumultuous world of galactic diplomacy.

Dalí has faced Shontavians before, but not like these. The stranded mercenaries are highly intelligent and have an agenda of their own. Dalí can’t afford to be distracted from the negotiations by their own demons or the presence of a charming diplomat with a mysterious past.

As a brewing civil war threatens to derail the entire mission, Dalí must use all their skills to bring this dangerous situation to a peaceful end—but the Shontavians may not be the biggest monsters at the table. Someone is determined to see Dalí and their team dead before they discover the brutal truth hidden in the wreckage.

Excerpt

Peacemaker
E.M. Hamill © 2020
All Rights Reserved

I keep ending up in labyrinthine mazes. There’s a psychological diagnosis in there, somewhere.

On the surface, Bariish displayed its harsh beauty in jagged mountains undulating in parti-colored heaves of red, yellow, and white. But beneath the planet’s landscape lay a hostile, ugly environment. Valuable ore streaked the planet’s crust in tight wires, a coveted material bringing astronomical prices in the open market. Danger lurked in the greed of fellow miners who would just as soon steal the ore someone else coaxed out of the rocky matrix to increase the weight of their own day’s take, and thus the credits received at the end of their stint. Guards maintained a presence in the shaft, but the dark, noisy area contained warrens of tunnels which couldn’t all be patrolled at once.

The heat in the mineshaft stifled me. Vibration from the pneumatic hammer pounded my bones as I chiseled out narrow fragments of rare metal and dropped them into a half-full bucket anchored between my boots. Sweat rolled off my back underneath the protective coveralls, burned my eyes behind the goggles I wore, and noise-canceling headgear formed a swamp around my ears. I didn’t look forward to removing any of it.

Bitter dust rimed my mouth as I leaned the hammer against the stony wall and dug a water ration out of the deep thigh pocket of my coveralls. Heads-up informatics in my goggles displayed the depth from the surface, the air quality, and the time remaining on my shift. Fifteen minutes, all conditions green. I was ready to get out. The claustrophobic awareness of two kilometers of rock overhead remained a constant companion and pressed as heavily as the still atmosphere in the tunnel. I finished the water and picked up my hammer again.

For more than two months, Ziggy and I had been undercover in this illegal mining operation. The first couple of weeks, I did little but register my take with the clerks, go back to our ship on the sandy apron where the rest of the itinerant miners camped, and pick blistered skin off my hands before collapsing into an exhausted coma. The hard physical labor on a planet where gravity was denser than my accustomed Gs proved a new conditioning challenge. My endurance increased each day, but there were limits on the number of hours we were allowed to scrape our take from the mine, and the sound of the warning klaxon brought a sense of relief.

Many Nos, Cthash, and Tolkish drifters worked on the day shift: humanoid, oxygen-breathing species like mine, all drawn by the promise of galactic credits, having left their home systems for reasons of their own. I was the only human in the shaft, night or day. The only one in camp at the time. I kept a low profile, but oddities tend to draw attention.

I hate it when that happens.

A shove to the middle of my back sent me off balance. The powerful excavator danced in an uncontrolled frenzy across the rocks, and I spun, the container of ore threatening to spill. I managed to right it with one heel and shut off the hammer.

Two Nos stood behind me, sneering beneath steamed-up goggles and safety helmets. Tracks of sweat traced pale lines against their grime-covered, glacial skin. The taller of the two thrust a quarter-full ore bucket at me and pantomimed I should empty my take into his.

I’d seen these assholes before. They’d performed the same act with other workers that week, beating the shit out of anyone who refused.

A quick glance around showed no guards close by—not that they would have heard anything over the din of mining activity. I leaned the equipment against the rock wall and capped my ore canister, leaving it inside the alcove where I worked. Empty-handed, I stepped out.

My specialized senses can’t help me where the Nos are concerned. They’re flat nulls, a blank broadcast muffling the spread of my empathic nets, but I’ve come to learn from close work with a Nos crewmate all I need to know is written in their body language.

Tall guy pointed to my bucket again and then to his. Tense, jerky. The smug, shorter Nos behind him stood in a relaxed, expectant slouch. So, he was the one in charge.

I shook my head and crossed my arms over my chest. What are you going to do about it? Excitement sang through my bloodstream, anticipating a fight. The pain of muscle beginning to shift in response to my changeling hormones remained invisible under my coveralls. The ache between my shoulder blades throbbed in a knot of eager, pent-up energy.

The taller Nos shoved his container at the short guy, who calmly took it and stepped back. I used the time to move into the center of the shaft, into the clear space between the magnetic tracks upon which the crew carrier rode.

He swung at me. Here we go.

Purchase

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

Meet the Author

E.M. Hamill is a nurse by day, sci fi and fantasy novelist by night. She lives in eastern Kansas with her family, where they fend off flying monkey attacks and prep for the zombie apocalypse. She also writes young adult material under the name Elisabeth Hamill. Her first novel, SONG MAGICK, won first place for YA fantasy in the 2014 Dante Rossetti Awards for Young Adult Fiction.

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Review: The Lost Boy by Anna Martin

Five years after his band Ares shot to success, Ben Easton is struggling. He’s holed up in a mansion in Los Angeles while he fights depression and a dark drug addiction that threatens to destroy everything. In a final attempt to save Ben’s life, his best friend Tone does something desperate—he calls Ben’s ex-boyfriend Stan and begs him to help.

Stan Novikov is living in New York and thriving in his career as a fashion journalist. He hasn’t been back to London since he and Ben broke up, but that seems like the right place to go—along with Tone—to try and shock Ben out of his unhealthy lifestyle.

The band have to finish their album before Christmas but without Ben, work has stalled. Ben has to decide whether he’s going to stay with Ares and keep making music, or find another path for his future. One that might just include Stan.

This is a story about redemption, salvation and finding home.

Ben and Stan had found a home in each other but life happened and it slipped away. Now, five years later Ben is mired in an addiction that's on the verge of killing him when Tone intervenes and brings them back together. Good ole Tone.

The blurb is pretty straightforward and the narrative is as well, so I'll refrain from summarizing. Suffice to say, it's brimming with the same unfussy writing and unambiguous dialogue that enchanted me in The Impossible Boy.

Life is tough enough without histrionics and that is what works most for me with this duet. Stan is a gay, gender fluid, fashionista with an eating disorder and Ben is a bisexual rockstar with anxiety and a raging drug addiction. Simply navigating the hands they've been dealt while being ever mindful of the landmines that could trigger either of them into a relapse that would quite literally kill them is more than enough to deal with on a daily basis.

But make no mistake becoming 'we' again is an odyssey that is both heartbreaking and joyous, gritty and poignant, just without antics. I found the honesty of Ben's addiction and the stripped down approach to his recovery refreshing. He's an addict. He'll always be an addict but what resonated with me was the fact that he undertakes treatment for himself with Stan's help rather than for Stan and I applaud Ms. Martin for making that distinction.

More than once along the way I found myself becoming emotional while reading The Lost Boy. I actually think 'The Lost Boys' is a more apropos title since they've both lost a part of themselves through their separation; both are shadows of their former selves. I guess losing your soulmate will do that to a person. Rebuilding the trust between them is incremental; the love is still there. Always. Learning how to do it again with all the new extraneous stuff factored in is the trick, so expect more of a love story than an erotic romance.

Some will probably say the story is meandering and could've been tightened up and they may be right but, honestly, I didn't care. I wanted more time with Stan and Ben and that's what I got, so zero complaints from me. I don't know that I can let them go now but I'm happy with how their story ended and, frankly, I cannot bear the thought of them breaking up again. So, au revoir, Stan and Ben. Be well. I'll see you in a reread.

Fans of The Impossible Boy, this is a must read.
If you enjoy love stories free of artifice, this duet is golden.
If you enjoy second chances, The Lost Boy is a melodic ballad to the trope.
If you enjoy fashion or rockstars, this is an ode to both.
Lastly, it's a love song to London so if that appeals, give it a whirl.

Triggers for mentions of sexual assault and drug usage.

An ARC was provided by the author in exchange for an honest review.

Amazon US Link
Amazon UK Link