Excerpt:
Because anything really could happen, couldn’t it? What if what happened in Philadelphia wasn’t a total mistake, but simply the prelude to Jake finally listening to what his instincts have been telling him for weeks? What if, what if, what if…
“What are you doing? Come see this!” Aiden calls out.
Jake takes a deep breath and steps out of the shadows. Aiden is silhouetted against the fading sun, the light picking out the auburn in his hair, and as he stretches his arms up over his head, one finger hooked through the woven bracelet he bought earlier, he grins out at the horizon. Jake feels as if he’s watching Aiden through brand new eyes; he knows that there is rescue in those arms. Suddenly he wants to fall into them and hold on until he feels safe.
Aiden turns away from the vista, pushes his sunglasses up on top of his head and looks down at Jake, his eyes sparkling with warmth and light. He leans forward and holds out his hand, and he looks… beautiful.
Author Bio:
Mimsy Hale has been a contributing ghostwriter to several bestselling nonfiction books. She is also an established writer in online fan communities, where her stories have hundreds of thousands of reads. 100 Days is her first novel. She lives in Suffolk, England, with her roommate and four cats.
Where to find the author: http://www.mimsyhale.co.uk
Facebook Author Page: https://www.facebook.com/themimsyhale
Twitter: @mimsyhale
Pinterest: https://www.pinterest.com/mimsyhale/
Publisher: Interlude Press
Cover Artist: Front cover concept by Abbi Lawson
Cover design by Buckeyegrrl Designs
Taber Delane is lucky be alive, but his career as a firefighter ended the day a beam snapped resulting in a crushing spinal injury. Most of his friends are willing to give him space, everyone except paramedic, Deacon Hall.
Deacon hasn’t met a challenge he couldn’t tackle and he knows Taber needs someone in his corner who isn’t afraid to stand up to the big bad fireman. The longer he’s around Taber, the more the sexy vulnerability of the man comes through. Deacon finds he doesn’t just want to be Taber’s live in caregiver, he wants a chance at the passionate man beneath the stubborn shell.
A shell that is cracking, no matter what Taber tries to hold it together. Without knowing how, Deacon being in his home starts to open his eyes to the man Deacon hides from the rest of the world and Taber craves to know more. A lot more.
Now if only Deacon can get Taber to see that it isn’t so bad having him there to assist. Even if sometimes Taber is naked, dripping wet, and angry as hell.
Pages or Words: 43,556 words
Excerpt:
“You’re not giving me a sponge bath,” Taber snapped and glowered at Deacon as he wheeled himself into the locker bay. The sweat ran down his temples, his shirt soaked through with it. He took in his motionless legs and grimaced before shooting Deacon another irritated look.
Deacon sat with his feet on one of the peeling dark blue benches, his back reclined against a bank of gray lockers along the far wall in the physical therapy building. A book was balanced on his knees, and black-rimmed glasses perched on his nose. His shaggy auburn hair fell to curl around his ears in disarray.
Deacon peered at him with pale green eyes. “There go my dreams of rubbing you down and tweeting the pics.”
About the author:
Draven St. James is a born and raised Oregonian. She has traveled extensively in search of mischief and mayhem to fill her books. Her ventures have been quite successful in inspiring a wealth of stories. Of course at the end of the day, coffee within reach, laptop at the ready is where she finds her peace.
Where to find the author:
Excerpt:
M’lan knelt beside the assassin’s bronzed body. He placed his palm on Jamil’s chest and silently beseeched Salar to remove the deadly impulses instilled in Jamil ever since he began his training as an assassin. Jamil closed his eyes and seemed to relax, but as the warm energy of the god seeped through M’lan’s fingers, Jamil jerked suddenly to full alertness. Like a cobra striking he seized M’lan’s wrist and gave it a painful twist, eyes flashing. M’lan sat back, startled.
Jamil did not let him go. He let out a slow breath and lifted M’lan’s fingers to his mouth. He kissed the knuckles of a clenched fist. “The last thing I need is more spells to confuse this simple warrior’s mind.”
“A prayer is not a spell!” M’lan tried to pull free but couldn’t. He gritted his teeth, fighting back a rising anger. Jamil’s strength both entranced and infuriated him.
“Stop trying to weaken me.” Jamil said in a wretchedly calm voice. “You must stay here and do your duty, I must go away and do mine. Nothing has changed.”
M’lan inhaled slowly, breath catching. “Let me go.”
Pages or Words: 60,000 words
Author Name: Alexis Duran
Author Bio: Alexis Duran was born and raised in the Pacific Northwest. At the University of Oregon, her fascination with people and relationships led her to major in Sociology, but her main love has always been creative writing. She’s worked in museums, fashion, finance and film production. Her favorite job so far was cataloguing the collection in a haunted Victorian Mansion. She’s had several short stories published in the mystery, horror and literary genres and is the author of the Masters and Mages erotic fantasy series. Her fiction has won several awards including the Rupert Hughes Award from the Maui Writers Conference. She lives with one dog and four and half cats. She is currently working on the next Masters and Mages novel and several other erotic novellas.
Where to find the author:
Facebook Author Page:http://www.facebook.com/alexis.duran.18294
Twitter: http://twitter.com/AlexisSDuran
Pinterest: http://www.pinterest.com/alexisduran1177/
Other: My blog at http://alexisduranblog.com
Other: https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/8332457.Alexis_Duran
Excerpt:
Della leaned into Kallie so that their bodies were pressed close together. Kallie finally did what she had been wanting to do since the day she met Della. She reached up and tangled her fingers in that glorious, unruly hair. She had expected Della’s hair to be coarse, but it was soft and warm in her hands.
Then Della’s hands found her breases, and Kallie remembered where they were and what they were doing. It took every ounce of willpower that she’d ever possessed, but she withdrew from Della, backing into the wall at the end of the step. “We shouldn’t do this,” she said in a voice so hoarse with passion she scarcely recognized it.
Della’s green eyes reflected hurt and confusion. “Why not?”
“Because you’re my cousin’s partner.”
Della nodded sadly. “You’re right. I’m sorry. I’ll go.”
Kallie tried to think of something to say that would ease things between the two of them, but no words came to her mind. All she could do was watch as Della walked out the door.
Pages or Words: 40,000
After Kallie Moran’s husband, Aaron, is killed in Iraq, Kallie asks her law firm to transfer her back to her home town so she can be close to her mother.
When her request is granted, she realizes that closeness to her mother also means closeness to her mother’s dreadful sister, Bessie Benson.
Bessie is loud and crass, and her sons make a lifestyle of rotating in and out of the county jail. The only Benson that Kallie has ever been able to tolerate is her cousin, Andi. Andi, too, once dreamed of getting out of Brookville, but unlike Kallie, she never quite made it.
Now an out lesbian, Andi drags her intimidated partner, Della, to local bars and out-of-control family affairs. Della seems so miserable that Kallie finds herself reaching out to this beautiful, fragile-looking woman who just doesn’t seem to belong among the Bensons.
As Kallie and Della become friends, Kallie witnesses the verbal and emotional abuse Andi heaps on Della. Then comes the terrible night when Andi is no longer able to confine herself to words and slams Della to the ground, permanently scarring her face.
Della flees to Kallie for protection. In relative safety, she struggles to face the fact that she is a victim of lesbian domestic violence. She is also falling hard for Kallie, her rescuer.
Kallie, meanwhile, is keeping some secrets of her own. She wants to be with Della as much as Della wants to be with her, but she is afraid to embark on her first lesbian relationship.
Their love blossoms when Kallie risks her life to save Della from another of Andi’s vicious attacks. But it doesn’t take Andi long to realize she’s been betrayed. Furious, drunk, and carrying her father’s hand gun, she vows that this time she will REALLY make Della and Kallie pay.
Excerpt:
Lake Shore Drive at night has its own excitement, especially when one is hurtling toward a rendezvous with an unknown destiny. On one side of my car, Lake Michigan bears silent witness to the streams of traffic heading north and south, headlights like glowing insect eyes piercing the night. The other side of the highway is crowded with high-rises, their glass, chrome, and concrete rising into the sky, hives of activity within, quiet sentinels without.
I have a cold bottle of Samuel Adams between my legs, a Marlboro burning in the ashtray. Normally, beer and cigarettes are not my vices. I care about my health, you see. But these are props, the same as the deeper-pitched voice I use, same as my word choices, which are much less sophisticated than someone with an MA in English from the University of Chicago. The beer and cigarettes are part of my costume. Tonight I wear faded, ragged Levi’s 501s, the crotch faded, the buttons moving in an inverted question mark, emphasizing the bulge in my crotch.
When did gay men turn into no-charge prostitutes? Has it always been this way?
Whatever. I’m also wearing a Bulls T-shirt, the sleeves cut off raggedly, the neck cut low.
I take a swig of the beer, letting its cold bitterness snake down my throat, and turn up the tape player. Ironic. Leonard Cohen is singing, “Ain’t No Cure for Love.”
I press down on the gas; ahead is my exit: Irving Park Road.
When I arrive, I see the apartment is a red brick six flat, identical to others all over the city. I ring the buzzer, and the guy doesn’t even bother to ask who it is. No difference. We never exchanged names anyway.
Trudging up the stairs, waiting for the shotgun-cocking sound of a lock being turned, a chain sliding back into place. Someone waits to admit me. Someone I don’t even know.
What a friendly world this is.
A door opens above.
What waits upstairs?
I round the bend and I see him. Nothing like his description, but who expected different? I am nothing like what I told him. No matter. As long as you’re male and reasonably young and acceptable, you’re in.
The guy has a good body, and his lips curl into a grin as I head toward him, dragging on my Marlboro. He’s wearing a pair of black bikini briefs. His moment of glory, this is what he’s worked for all those long hours at the gym. Finally someone to appreciate the shaved and defined pecs, the smooth washboard belly, the bulging biceps I just know he will somehow maneuver to flex for me.
But he’s much older than what I had expected. Midforties probably. His reddish-brown hair is thinning, and the blue eyes are framed by crow’s feet. A bottle of “eye-revitalizing” cream is in his medicine cabinet, I bet. The goatee, a desperate ploy to make himself look younger and hip, is embarrassingly ineffective. A cougar tattoo snakes down one of his arms.
“How you doin’?” I exhale a cloud of smoke and pass him as he opens the door wider to admit me.
“Great. Now that you’re here.”
The apartment is small, crowded with “contemporary” furniture: a black leather grouping in the living room, chrome and glass tables, spare jagged-looking twig and dried flower arrangements. On the walls, Herb Ritts posters of absurdly pumped-up young men in various settings: a garage, on the seashore.
The guy leads me into the bedroom. Platform bed, comforter thrown back, striped sheets. The nightstand holds the tools of his true trade: a plastic cup full of condoms he probably never uses, a couple of little brown bottles filled with butyl nitrite, a leather cock ring, a metal cock ring, and a large pump bottle of Wet. On the lower shelf, a stack of neatly folded but ragged white towels.
A dresser faces the bed, and atop it, a color TV and DVD combination. On the screen, a wildly muscled dark-haired guy tries to sit on one of those orange traffic cones. Amazingly, he’s beginning to succeed.
I grin.
The guy drops the black briefs and sits on the bed. Hoarsely, “Why don’t you get undressed, man?”
“Why don’t you do it for me?”
Instantly supplicant, he’s on his knees before me, working the buttons on my jeans. I’m sure his eyes are glistening. Already his breath is coming faster.
I push his hand away. “Hold on.” I lift the goateed face up to my own and look in his blue eyes, where nothing but desire and trust mingle. “I want you to lie down on the bed. Lie on your stomach.”
He gets up and does as he’s told. The half moons of his ass practically glow in the darkness. A thin whiter line disappears in his crack, where his thong was. The definition in his arms shows up perfectly as he raises them above his head to clutch the pillow.
His legs are parted, waiting.
“I just need to do something real quick. You stay right there.” I look back at him as I exit the room. “You’re a good boy, right? Do what you’re told?”
“Yes, sir.”
In the kitchen, I go quickly through the drawers until I find the one with the knives. For the first time, I get hard, and I think of the blood pumping, filling the spongy cavities.
The blood. Essence of life.
I strip down, leaving my clothes in a pile on the kitchen floor. I hope I don’t bring any cockroaches home.
I hold the butcher knife I chose to my side, concealing it with my arm, and head back to the bedroom.
He still lies there, waiting and trustful, thinking he’s about to be penetrated.
And he is.
Rick R. Reed is all about exploring the romantic entanglements of gay men in contemporary, realistic settings. While his stories often contain elements of suspense, mystery and the paranormal, his focus ultimately returns to the power of love. He is the author of dozens of published novels, novellas, and short stories. He is a three-time EPIC eBook Award winner (for Caregiver, Orientation and The Blue Moon Cafe). Raining Men and Caregiver have both won the Rainbow Award for gay fiction. Lambda Literary Review has called him, “a writer that doesn’t disappoint.” Rick lives in Seattle with his husband and a very spoiled Boston terrier. He is forever”at work on another novel.”
Excerpt:
Lake Shore Drive at night has its own excitement, especially when one is hurtling toward a rendezvous with an unknown destiny. On one side of my car, Lake Michigan bears silent witness to the streams of traffic heading north and south, headlights like glowing insect eyes piercing the night. The other side of the highway is crowded with high-rises, their glass, chrome, and concrete rising into the sky, hives of activity within, quiet sentinels without.
I have a cold bottle of Samuel Adams between my legs, a Marlboro burning in the ashtray. Normally, beer and cigarettes are not my vices. I care about my health, you see. But these are props, the same as the deeper-pitched voice I use, same as my word choices, which are much less sophisticated than someone with an MA in English from the University of Chicago. The beer and cigarettes are part of my costume. Tonight I wear faded, ragged Levi’s 501s, the crotch faded, the buttons moving in an inverted question mark, emphasizing the bulge in my crotch.
When did gay men turn into no-charge prostitutes? Has it always been this way?
Whatever. I’m also wearing a Bulls T-shirt, the sleeves cut off raggedly, the neck cut low.
I take a swig of the beer, letting its cold bitterness snake down my throat, and turn up the tape player. Ironic. Leonard Cohen is singing, “Ain’t No Cure for Love.”
I press down on the gas; ahead is my exit: Irving Park Road.
When I arrive, I see the apartment is a red brick six flat, identical to others all over the city. I ring the buzzer, and the guy doesn’t even bother to ask who it is. No difference. We never exchanged names anyway.
Trudging up the stairs, waiting for the shotgun-cocking sound of a lock being turned, a chain sliding back into place. Someone waits to admit me. Someone I don’t even know.
What a friendly world this is.
A door opens above.
What waits upstairs?
I round the bend and I see him. Nothing like his description, but who expected different? I am nothing like what I told him. No matter. As long as you’re male and reasonably young and acceptable, you’re in.
The guy has a good body, and his lips curl into a grin as I head toward him, dragging on my Marlboro. He’s wearing a pair of black bikini briefs. His moment of glory, this is what he’s worked for all those long hours at the gym. Finally someone to appreciate the shaved and defined pecs, the smooth washboard belly, the bulging biceps I just know he will somehow maneuver to flex for me.
But he’s much older than what I had expected. Midforties probably. His reddish-brown hair is thinning, and the blue eyes are framed by crow’s feet. A bottle of “eye-revitalizing” cream is in his medicine cabinet, I bet. The goatee, a desperate ploy to make himself look younger and hip, is embarrassingly ineffective. A cougar tattoo snakes down one of his arms.
“How you doin’?” I exhale a cloud of smoke and pass him as he opens the door wider to admit me.
“Great. Now that you’re here.”
The apartment is small, crowded with “contemporary” furniture: a black leather grouping in the living room, chrome and glass tables, spare jagged-looking twig and dried flower arrangements. On the walls, Herb Ritts posters of absurdly pumped-up young men in various settings: a garage, on the seashore.
The guy leads me into the bedroom. Platform bed, comforter thrown back, striped sheets. The nightstand holds the tools of his true trade: a plastic cup full of condoms he probably never uses, a couple of little brown bottles filled with butyl nitrite, a leather cock ring, a metal cock ring, and a large pump bottle of Wet. On the lower shelf, a stack of neatly folded but ragged white towels.
A dresser faces the bed, and atop it, a color TV and DVD combination. On the screen, a wildly muscled dark-haired guy tries to sit on one of those orange traffic cones. Amazingly, he’s beginning to succeed.
I grin.
The guy drops the black briefs and sits on the bed. Hoarsely, “Why don’t you get undressed, man?”
“Why don’t you do it for me?”
Instantly supplicant, he’s on his knees before me, working the buttons on my jeans. I’m sure his eyes are glistening. Already his breath is coming faster.
I push his hand away. “Hold on.” I lift the goateed face up to my own and look in his blue eyes, where nothing but desire and trust mingle. “I want you to lie down on the bed. Lie on your stomach.”
He gets up and does as he’s told. The half moons of his ass practically glow in the darkness. A thin whiter line disappears in his crack, where his thong was. The definition in his arms shows up perfectly as he raises them above his head to clutch the pillow.
His legs are parted, waiting.
“I just need to do something real quick. You stay right there.” I look back at him as I exit the room. “You’re a good boy, right? Do what you’re told?”
“Yes, sir.”
In the kitchen, I go quickly through the drawers until I find the one with the knives. For the first time, I get hard, and I think of the blood pumping, filling the spongy cavities.
The blood. Essence of life.
I strip down, leaving my clothes in a pile on the kitchen floor. I hope I don’t bring any cockroaches home.
I hold the butcher knife I chose to my side, concealing it with my arm, and head back to the bedroom.
He still lies there, waiting and trustful, thinking he’s about to be penetrated.
And he is.
Rick R. Reed is all about exploring the romantic entanglements of gay men in contemporary, realistic settings. While his stories often contain elements of suspense, mystery and the paranormal, his focus ultimately returns to the power of love. He is the author of dozens of published novels, novellas, and short stories. He is a three-time EPIC eBook Award winner (for Caregiver, Orientation and The Blue Moon Cafe). Raining Men and Caregiver have both won the Rainbow Award for gay fiction. Lambda Literary Review has called him, “a writer that doesn’t disappoint.” Rick lives in Seattle with his husband and a very spoiled Boston terrier. He is forever “at work on another novel.”
Collin expected to spend another summer fixing cars and working at the college pizzeria. Instead, he’s living in a beach house on Fire Island, waiting tables at a hip seaside restaurant and, for the first time since he and Tanner got together, they can publicly be known as boyfriends. Being “out” takes some getting used to, but with the help of new and old friends, Collin is happier than he ever imagined. And more in love. But newfound freedom brings unexpected challenges, and when friends get flirty, old insecurities arise. Moments of doubt and jealousy threaten their happiness, and Collin and Tanner must confront the truth or risk losing it all.
Excerpt:
His smile twitched as he started up the next staircase. The last one. The one that led to our room and nowhere else. My hearth hammered hard and fast, and not from stair climbing. I needed to touch Tanner, soon, or every part of my body from my brain to my balls was going to simultaneously combust.
Tanner pushed our door open with exaggerated care and stepped inside. Jesus, is he trying to make me crazy? All I want is to….
My back slammed against the wall, and before I could complete my thought, Tanner’s mouth was on mine. The kiss was savage, tongue hot and heavy against mine, cock hot and heavy against mine. Even through our shorts, I could feel how ready he was. My head swam.
Desperate for more, I grabbed on to him, rolling us toward the door and kicking it shut. Tanner let out a grunt as I pressed him against the hard wood. Could anyone hear us? I didn’t care. I just needed this. Tanner. Now.
As soon as I shoved his T-shirt up his ribs, he yanked it off and tossed it aside. Warm smooth skin greeted my fingertips, filling my nose with his scent. God, I missed this. My mouth returned to his, tongues dueling as my hands fumbled with his fly. I couldn’t stop rubbing against him enough to get the zipper down. Tanner grabbed my ass, crushing his cock alongside mine, humping against me with enough intensity I had to force myself not to come.
I didn’t want that. Not yet. Not standing against the door when that crazy big bed was only feet away. As if he read my mind, Tanner shoved me backward, taking advantage of the moment our bodies parted to strip off his shorts. I tugged off my shirt, and before I could launch it across the room, Tanner had my shorts undone and down. Kicking them away put me off-balance, and Tanner steadied me with one hand clutching the back of my neck and the other wrapped around my cock.
Whimpers echoed through the room. My whimpers. His thumb slicked over my swollen head, round and round in circles that left me dizzy and panting.
“Let’s try out the bed.” Tanner’s voice was low and thick. I’d have said yes to anything he asked with that voice.
I couldn’t actually say a word, so I nodded and pulled us down onto the mattress. Holy Jesus. Soft cool sheets, warm hard body, wet velvety tongue. Heaven. Fire Island was heaven.
Pages or Words: 150 pages
Karen Stivali is a prolific writer, compulsive baker and chocoholic with a penchant for books, movies, and fictional British men. She’s also the multiple award-winning author of contemporary and erotic romances. She writes novels about love…like real life, only hotter.
Karen’s lifelong fascination with people has led her to careers ranging from hand-drawn animator, to party planner, to marriage and family counselor, but writing has always been her passion. Karen enjoys nothing more than following her characters on their journey toward love. Whether the couples are m/f or m/m, it’s guaranteed that Karen’s novels are filled with food, friendship, love, and smoking hot sex—all the best things in life.
When Karen isn’t writing (and often when she is), she can be found on Twitter attempting witty banter and detailing the antics of her fruit-loving cat, BadKitteh. She loves to hear from readers (and other writers), so don’t hesitate to contact/follow/like her at the links below.
Author Bio:
J.K. Hogan has been telling stories for as long as she can remember, beginning with writing cast lists and storylines for her toys growing up. When she finally decided to put pen to paper, magic happened. She is greatly inspired by all kinds of music and often creates a “soundtrack” for her stories as she writes them. J.K. is hoping to one day have a little something for everyone, so she’s branched out from m/f paranormal romance and added m/m contemporary romance. Who knows what’s next? J.K. resides in North Carolina, where she was born and raised. A true southern girl at heart, she lives in the country with her husband and young son, a cat, and two champion agility dogs. If she isn’t on the agility field, J.K. can often be found chasing waterfalls in the mountains with her husband, or down in front at a blues concert. In addition to writing, she enjoys training and competing in dog sports, spending time with her large southern family, camping, boating and, of course, reading! For more information, please visitwww.jkhogan.com.
The effects of an attack on SIN, a twenty-nine year old University lecturer, reach out further into his future than SIN could ever imagine. In a story, which seems doomed to start with an end, SIN learns about the forever kind of love, and how family is not just biological. ‘Soul-Mate for SIN’ shows how twists of fate can take a loving, but ordinary family, from a small market town in Lincolnshire, England and turn them into something extraordinary.
Author Bio:
Izzy van Swelm is English, but took her Mother in Law’s maiden name as a pen name. Izzy dreams of a world where all sentient species have rights and respect. A world where LGBTQ lovers and friends, old and young, can walk holding hands meeting nothing more than the occasional affectionate eye roll. A world where intelligence, gentleness and compassion are the overwhelming attributes of politicians, and religion is practiced by those who believe, but never forced on those who do not.
Izzy is a romantic, a dreamer, a vegetarian and just a little eccentric. Izzy writes because she loves to tell stories, and she hopes that her stories will bring happiness, enjoyment and maybe to some…a little hope.
Hello, please tell us your name and who you are?
Hello. I’m Julie and I’m an Intensive Care nurse in a hospital in Nottingham, England.
Oh I see Gabriel is a nurse there too. Is that how you became involved with this book?
Yes, Gabriel is one of my best friends, we’ve known each other for donkey’s years, and we work together. I can’t really say how I became involved…Izzy would be upset…but I’m pretty close to Gabriel, SIN and SIN’s family and friends. They are pretty lovely people to know and be around. Do you have a partner?
As a matter of fact I do at the moment and it’s going quite well. His name is Rob, he gets on very well with Snowy…that’s SIN’s dad. I think they stopped each other running out when we all went to The Rainbow Lounge? (Laughs)
Oh you’ve been there? I’ve heard it’s very good?
Oh it is… it’s a gay bar and drag club but it’s pretty inclusive, although quite expensive. I don’t always go when SIN, Gabriel and the boys do, but I go when I’m free, with or without Rob …lol. I have a genuinely good night out whenever I go. So what can you tell us about the book Soul Mate for SIN?
This is the bit I was dreading, as I really can’t tell you too much without giving away details that Izzy wants kept secret. I will say, I think it’s a lovely story …it contains several different examples of ‘love’ including romantic love of course. I will admit some of it made me laugh out loud while other bits…well I remember how we all felt at the time, so I was quite emotional. There are sexy bits, but of course I skimmed over those, well you don’t want to read about your friends’ sex lives do you? Okay, I read them and they were really hot… just don’t tell Gabriel and the others, right. Thank you for your time Julie.
Oh, thank you. Is that it? Don’t I have to tell you my favourite colour, or boy band, or something?
Um…not really… do you want to?
Well that’s what they do in interviews for books isn’t it? Or is that music? Anyway, my favourite colour is purple, and my favourite boy band… well of course it’s One Direction! I’m totally a ‘Larry shipper’ and I’m not too old whatever, anyone says. (Glares) Shall I stop now…?
Please…
Oh okay then…Bye.
Audie Barrack is in it up to his elbows with a sick calf when his son’s school calls. Seems Grainger has gotten into yet another fight. When he walks into the principal’s office, he’s shocked to find his son has been fighting with a little girl named Randi.
A little girl with one blind dad and one dad who recently passed away.
Goddammit.
Dixon has lost his sight, his career, and his husband. Thank God for his brothers, Momma and Daddy, and his little girl, or he would simply give up. The last thing he needs is for Randi to start trouble at school, especially trouble that puts him in contact with another dad who might expect him to be a functional human being.
Dixon is struggling to live as a blind man, Audie is terrified someone might see he has a closet to come out of, and everyone from the school to both men’s families is worried for the men and their children. Unless they get themselves together and commit to change, neither of them stands a chance.
Review
Dixon has had to move in with his parents after losing his husband and his sight. His parents are supportive – to an extent – but there is an underlying tension in the house that keeps Dixon on the edge of miserable.
Audie is a young, single father, working his family ranch because he knows nothing else. His mother is somewhat supportive of him, but doesn’t approve of his being gay and isn’t shy about letting him know it.
Dixon and Audie meet when Randi (Dixon’s daughter) punches Grainger (Audie’s son). Audie pretty much immediately falls for Dixon but it takes awhile for that to play out.
The romance between Dixon and Audie is fairly easy going, their relationship is not. Dixon is a widower, well meaning friends and family worry Audie is a rebound man. Dixon is blind, family members worry that he won’t be able to contribute and that he might not be the best man to raise his own daughter, much less two children. Audie is a landless cowboy (he’s mother won’t put a gay boy in her will) with a child of his own.
Despite all the various obstacles and reasons why this shouldn’t work… it does and it does so beautifully.
**
I really enjoyed this country mouse/city mouse story. The immediate attraction and the acceptance of their romance between themselves let the rest of the story be about each of their own growth.
For all intents and purposes, one wrong decision led to Audie being a single dad, trapped on his family ranch at the age of 25. He’d never gotten to be a single gay man or do any of the other stuff that we do when we are young and carefree. As a result he’s older in some ways but still has a lot of that youth and inexperience in him that was a perfect mix for Dixon.
Dixon had been there and done that. Though he was only 33, he’d had a much more varied life, though not on a ranch! He was a bit jaded, a bit spoiled, a bit insecure, a bit self involved, but so brave. His family didn’t support him – not really – and he felt totally lost.
What I loved was that both men saved each other and the kids helped too. It’s hard to write kids because no two kids are a like and it can be hard to represent that mix of surprisingly mature things that sometimes come out of a young mouth along side the more immature tantrums and such. I think Randi and Grainger are excellent examples of kids done well. Though there were times I thought they were a little too mature, most of the time I really thought they were great.
I loved how the families were represented. They both felt very “gray” to me, meaning not all good and not all bad. So often the family is this all or nothing evil villain when in reality there is usually a mix. Dixon’s parents are well meaning if not fully supportive. Audie’s mom isn’t all bad, though she is pretty judgmental and petty.
Dixon’s reaction to being blind felt pretty appropriate as well, though I did wonder at his relative ease at getting over Ron. I also wondered why Ron’s family was so intent on keeping Randi when Dixon was the biological father, why weren’t his parents taking over?
Overall I thought this was a riveting and wonderful book and I highly recommend it.
Excerpt:
