New Release - Gingerbread Mistletoe by Amy Aislin #KindleUnlimited #giveaway

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Book Title: Gingerbread Mistletoe

Author: Amy Aislin

Publisher: Self-published

Cover Artist: Natasha Snow

Series: Lighthouse Bay #2

Genre/s: Contemporary m/m holiday romance

Trope/s: Enemies to lovers, small town, forced proximity

Heat Rating: 2 flames 

Length: 62,000 words 

It’s book two in the Lighthouse Bay series, but can be read as a standalone. 

Goodreads

 

Buy Links - Available in Kindle Unlimited

Universal Amazon Link  |  Amazon US  |   Amazon UK 

 

  

Blurb

The last thing Jeff wants is to spend time with the man who totaled his car—the one he spent years restoring with his late father. But if he wants to resurrect his childhood town’s annual outdoor hockey tournament, he’s got no choice.

The last thing Mika wants is to work with the guy who took off right after the accident, without ensuring he was okay. And working together on organizing Jeff’s proposed tournament sounds like a complete nightmare. He’s got enough on his plate after surviving cancer.

Sparks fly as they’re forced to work together, but is that enough for them to set their differences aside and pull off the tournament in only two weeks? Or will they prove to be immune to the magic of Christmas?

Excerpt

Standing, he held a hand out to the man who was so much his type it was almost laughable. Three or four inches taller than Mika’s own five-ten height, dark brown hair that shone red under the warehouse’s lights, like the deepest shade of mahogany, with charcoal-gray at the temples and above his ears, and lines that fanned out from narrow eyes a dark shade of blue. A high forehead in a heart-shaped face and the physique of a footballer completed the package.

All of that wouldn’t have been a big deal on its own, but the way he held himself with the cool confidence of someone who knew his place in the world?

Yowza. Talk about Mika’s type wrapped in a black wool coat and a stubbled jaw more gray than brown. He’d have been giving Jeff his number if the guy wasn’t scowling at him.

Wait, that scowl . . .

Jeff stared at his outstretched hand. “No.”

“Uh.” Rearing back, Mika dropped his arm back to his side. “Excuse me?”

Zach crept up behind him, gaze swinging from Mika to Jeff. “What’s wrong?”

Jeff waved a hand at Mika. “This is the guy you want me to work with?” He put special emphasis on this, as though Mika were a criminal who’d steal his wallet when he wasn’t looking. Straightening his spine, Mika planted his hands on his hips.

Zach blinked once. “Yes?”

Holland Stone—Zach’s boyfriend and Mika’s ex—approached from where he’d been working on his float for the parade, clad in a dusty T-shirt and even dustier jeans. He squinted at Jeff before turning to Zach and Mika. “You two okay?” He held a hammer in one hand like he meant to wield it. Not that he ever would, but the image would’ve made Mika chuckle had he not been so confused.

And frankly? Kind of hurt. What the hell had he ever done to this guy?

“I can’t work with him.” There was no give in Jeff’s tone.

“Why not?” Zach stepped in close to Mika, butting in against his left side. “Mika’s the best.”

Aw. The ire in Mika’s chest faded a little at Zach’s words. It was nice of him to say, especially since Mika had made the worst of first impressions on him last Christmas.

The amount of disgust in Jeff’s scoff would’ve been impressive had it not been directed at Mika. “I’m not working with the guy who totaled my dad’s car.”

Mika’s head jerked back. “What?”

Zach and Holland swung their gazes his way.

“I didn’t!” Taking a step back, he raised both hands. “I’ve never totaled anybody’s car in my life.”

“Oh no?” Jeff argued, raising both eyebrows, and god, the sarcasm. “Not even a turquoise 1956 Chevy Nomad near the Bluffs in Pacific Palisades? About this time last year? Ring any bells?”

That was where Mika knew this guy from! Jesus, he was still holding a grudge? “Okay, first of all, I apologized, like, seven times. Second, I gave you my number. It’s not my problem that you didn’t call. Like I said—I would’ve paid to get it fixed. And third.” Leaning over the desk, he narrowed his eyes on a squinty-eyed Jeff Bellmoor. “Totaled?”

Jeff winced. “Fine. That’s maybe the wrong word.” Uttered so begrudgingly, it was a miracle he managed to say the words at all. “But like I said—it’s not about the damage.”

A huff of exasperation escaped Mika and he threw his hands up. “I don’t know what that means.” He hadn’t known then either.

“Never mind.” Rubbing his forehead, Jeff turned away. “You wouldn’t understand.”

 

 

About the Author  

 

Amy's lived with her head in the clouds since she first picked up a book as a child, and being fluent in two languages means she's read a lot of books! She first picked up a pen on a rainy day in fourth grade when her class had to stay inside for recess. Tales of treasure hunts with her classmates eventually morphed into love stories between men, and she's been writing ever since. She writes evenings and weekends—or whenever she isn't at her full-time day job saving the planet at Canada's largest environmental non-profit.

An unapologetic introvert, Amy reads too much and socializes too little, with no regrets. She loves connecting with readers. Join her Facebook Group, Amy Aislin’s Readers, to stay up-to-date on upcoming releases and for access to early teasers, find her on Instagram and Twitter, or sign up for her infrequent newsletter.

 

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a signed paperback of Gingerbread Mistletoe

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Cover Reveal - The Valet by Mel Gough

COVER REVEAL

Book Title: The Valet

Author: Mel Gough

Cover Artist: Black Jazz Design

Release Date: December 1, 2020

Genre/s: Historical M/M Romance

Trope/s: Forbidden love

Themes: Restoring trust

Heat Rating:  3 flames

Goodreads

 

When love does not dare speak its name, trusting is the hardest thing to learn.

Blurb

England, 1910 – Ted has a good situation as first footman at Montague Hall, the splendid Gloucestershire manor of the 6th Earl of Carran. But he has just made a mistake so serious it could cost him his position, and even land him in prison if the authorities found out.

As valet to the 9th Duke of Argyll, Richard’s London life is glamorous. But when he has his heart broken, he longs to get as far away from the city as possible. The pace at Montague Hall might be sedate, but its tranquillity is like a salve to his shattered soul. And unforeseen diversions are to be found even here. Like handsome, despondent first footmen.

The last thing Ted needs is a new temptation. But his Lordship’s new valet isn’t just gorgeous. Richard is also brave and kind – and he wants to make Ted happy, something Ted never dreamt would come to pass.

Trusting again is hard, and in a world that reviles their love happiness is hard-won. Can they hope to carve out a contented life against all odds?



Excerpt

Dorcas was just coming through the baize door, carrying a tray stacked high with serving bowls. Ted hurried to hold the door for her.

“Thank you.” She gave him a smile and quickly but gently deposited her load on a sideboard.

Ted was fond of the head housemaid. They got on well, and unlike many of the other servants, Ted trusted her. Dorcas was plain-spoken and a hard worker, and she didn’t tolerate the mean kind of teasing that some of the younger servants engaged in with impunity.

He went to open one of the tall cabinets where a couple of shelves were bare. “Here, I’ll do it.” He started stacking the bowls on the shelves, which were too high for Dorcas to reach without a footstool.

“Thank you.” Dorcas rubbed her arms. “Golly, those were heavy. Good thing Mrs Stokes didn’t see me. That would’ve been quite the hiding.”

“She would’ve had good reason.” Ted hefted the bowls. “Imagine if you had tripped with these!”

“Yes, but the stairs are steep and narrow, and it’s bad enough coming up once with that huge tray.” She watched as Ted opened a different cupboard and started counting bread plates. “Aren’t you done yet? You’ve been up here an age!”

Ted made a face. “You know what Mr Wymer is like. He won’t stand for a single spoon out of alignment. And Jimmy’s managed to wriggle out from under him, so I’m doing the dogsbody work.”

Dorcas clicked her tongue impatiently. “You have to stop letting him walk all over you, Ted.” She stood with her hands pressed into her sides, shaking her head. “Who’s the first footman, hmm? You or him?”

Ted kept his eyes on the plates. He might have confided many things in Dorcas, but the reason why he didn’t dare vex Jimmy was too shameful to share even with her. “You’re right, of course. But…you know what he’s like.”

“Oh Ted.” Dorcas sighed. “What are we to do with you?” She turned back towards the door to the back stairs, but then wheeled back around. “I nearly forgot! You were up here, and you wouldn’t have heard yet.” With a glance at the door to the dining room, which was half-open, she lowered her voice. “You won’t believe what happened. Mr Brown has handed in his notice. He just told us.”

Ted stared at her. “What do you mean?” He nodded towards the dining room. “But Mr Wymer didn’t say anything. He must be aware.”

“You know what Mr Wymer is like. Discreet to a fault.” Dorcas put on a serious face and lowered her voice. “An upstanding servant does not gossip, Theodore.”

Despite himself, Ted grinned. The imitation was spot on. Then he remembered the news and grew sombre again. “So Mr Brown’s gone.” After Dorcas, the Earl’s valet was Ted’s second favourite amongst the servants. They weren’t bosom friends – clearly, or Mr Brown would’ve confided his plans in him – but Ted valued the man’s support against Jimmy and Mrs Dankworth, who was the Countess’s lady’s maid and who liked to team up with Jimmy to make Ted’s life hell. Losing the valet would bring change to the balance downstairs, and that would not bode well for Ted. An unease settled in his gut.

Dorcas seemed not to notice. “He’s not gone yet, but he will be by the end of the week. The Earl agreed to let him go on short notice. You know he’s courting the daughter of that Cheltenham pub. Her father died a few days ago, and they need to move quickly so that the pub can stay open.”

“Mr Brown is going to be a pub landlord.” Ted was bemused by the idea. “You’d think that being valet for an Earl would beat that life any day.” He couldn’t imagine leaving service. The work at Montague Hall wasn’t exactly a walk in the park, but the house was comfortable and the Peytons were fair employers. After what he’d left behind at home in Yorkshire, this house was paradise. But then he remembered the impossible situation he’d gotten himself into with Jimmy. Maybe starting over new somewhere wouldn’t be so bad.

Dorcas shrugged. “I guess love trumps all in the end.”

Ted didn’t know what to say to that. He knew that people like Dorcas believed this, but he also knew that for people like him, this was not likely to ever happen. He picked up the stack of plates. “I better take these through, before Mr Wymer sends out a search party.”

“Right you are.” Dorcas gave him a smile and a wave, and vanished through the baize door.

About the Author 

Mel Gough loves writing about love – but with a twist. Nominated for the 2019 Selfies Awards, her bisexual romantic suspense novel He is Mine is a typical Mel Gough story. She needs her HEA fix, but on the way there will be thorns and fire, and sometimes brimstone. All right, that might be over the top, especially since her stories are firmly based in the real world - though not always in the here and now.

Born in Germany, exploring other realities has been Mel’s siren call since she was young. Books opened up a plethora of worlds, and soon gave her a strong love of the English language. After an MA in Anthropology, field work in the middle of nowhere seemed like one adventure too far, so Mel settled in London, which, to misquote Dr. Johnson, she will never tire of.

Mel loves to bend genres – her romances are gritty and dark, and sometimes there’s a dead body. She’s been told that her prose is beautiful yet disturbingly real. She’s curious about bygone times, and hopes to speculate about the future in one of her next books.

  

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New Release - Starting Over by Rob Browatzke #KindleUnlimited

RELEASE BLITZ

Book Title: Starting Over

Author: Rob Browatzke

 Publisher: Rob Browatzke

Cover Artist: AJ Corza

Release Date: November 15, 2020

Genre: Contemporary M/M Romance 

Trope: Second chances

Heat Rating: 5 flames

Length: 51 000 words/ 210 pages

It is a standalone story.

Goodreads

 

Buy Links - Available on Kindle Unlimited

Amazon US  |   Amazon UK 

 

Life doesn’t often give a second chance. Take it when it comes.

   
Blurb

Fourteen years ago, Dylan and Kent became something more than friends, but it didn’t end well. Now, they’ve run into each other again. This time, they’re both adults, they’re both out, and they both know what they want.

Will that long-ago teenage heartbreak stand in the way of what’s happening between them? Life doesn’t often give second chances, but maybe this is theirs, to start over.



Excerpt

Dylan wasn’t one of those guys who would normally stare off into space reflecting on the past. He liked living in the moment, mostly because he knew his past would trap him like a mosquito in amber if he spent too much time looking back.

But that was before he’d run into Kent Campbell the night before.

He’d known Kent lived in the same city, but Dylan had been here four years now without seeing him. He’d assumed Kent had moved. It was a big city, but not that big. And then, BAM! There he was.

He’d looked good. Damn good. Looking back, Dylan could see that Kent had always been good looking, even if it was something Dylan had never been able to admit. Small wonder Kent had bolted, considering everything that had happened.

It may be water under the bridge, he thought, but it’s water that’s still rising. “Dylan! Enough!”

Dylan blinked and came back to the moment, to Luc snapping his fingers in his face. “Sorry, mind wandered.”

Luc gave him some serious side-eye. “I was telling a story.”

“I live with you,” Dylan reminded. “I know all the stories.”

“That’s not important. Pay attention. You know I like an audience.” He paused. “And speaking

of having an audience...”

Dylan tuned out again as Luc told Ellis and Jay about last night’s sexcapade. It would normally

not be appropriate brunch conversation, but this was the Duchess, and the Sunday morning brunch crowd was almost entirely gays nursing the hangover with bottomless mimosas.

The mood in the room was celebratory for sure. The last months had felt like some endless Thursday afternoon, but the weekend had finally arrived. Everything was moving forward again. Everything, that is, except Dylan, who had barely been able to enjoy the Torch after Kent left. Dylan had ended up calling it an early night just to toss and turn alone in the dark.

He had to find him.

He should have followed him out, is what he should have done. But the boys were pretty insistent he stay and dance, and Kent had been crystal fucking clear that he wanted nothing to do with Dylan. And that made sense. Dylan couldn’t blame him, but he had to find him and tell him that things were different now.

All the things Dylan hadn’t been able to say before, he could say now.

“Dylan Thomas Hedderson, I am not telling you again. Snap the fuck out of it!”

Dylan turned his head to glare at Luc. “Did you just middle name me? You know I hate my

middle name.” His name was the last remnant of his mother’s one-time goal to be an English professor, long before she had traded that in to be Mrs. Richard Hedderson.

Thinking about his father was guaranteed to lead back to thinking about Kent, but it would also get him no closer to finding him. When Dylan had crawled into bed the night before, the first thing he’d done was punch Kent’s name into every social media app he could, with no luck. Disappointing but not unexpected. Most socials were increasingly toxic. Dylan’s own were locked down as tight as they could be, but just in case Kent was lying in his bed somewhere thinking about Dylan the way Dylan was thinking about him, Dylan loosened up those settings before trying to sleep.

He’d barely slept, and when he had, Kent had wandered through what passed for his dreams. When Luc banged on his door to say it was brunch time, he’d barely found the strength to get up.

“Why are you so quiet?” Ellis asked him.

He could lie. He could say he was just tired, which was pretty much not a lie anyway. He could make something up. He could...

“Dylan ran into a boy from his past last night,” Luc said, which pretty much eliminated any of Dylan’s other options.

“Do tell!” Jay said. “Did our golden boy finally get some?”

“He wishes,” Luc said.

“Did you want to tell them everything then?” Dylan asked. “I could just go home.” Luc opened

his mouth, but then clearly thought better and closed it again. Too late, as was typical with Luc, to be honest. It wasn’t that Dylan didn’t want Jay and Ellis to know; it wasn’t even that there was anything to know, really.

It was just whatever there was, it was sitting in this heavy mass in the center of Dylan’s chest. He wasn’t proud of what had happened between them. Actually, he was downright fucking ashamed, and all the guilt he had learned to ignore was now throbbing again.

“A friend from school,” he said, which was, strictly speaking, a lie. It bordered the truth anyway. “A high school sweetheart friend?” Ellis asked, playfully nudging him.

“It was complicated,” Dylan finally answered, in what had to be the understatement of the

fucking century.

“Ugh, those are the worst,” Jay groaned. “I remember our high school’s tight end. He had the

tightest end, let me tell you...”

Grateful to Jay’s interruption and distraction, Dylan let his mind wander again. Not through the

past, because there was nothing there but regret. No, he let it wander through the here and now, because he had made up his mind.

He was going to find Kent Campbell and get the closure they both had never got.

About the Author 

Rob Browatzke, 43, is a storyteller and club owner in Edmonton, Canada. 

This is his ninth published work, his second mm romance.

 

Author Links

Website  |  Facebook  |  Twitter @robbrowatzke  | Instagram @robbrowatzke

   

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Blog Tour - The Offering by Rosary Deville #KindleUnlimited #giveaway

BLOG TOUR

Book Title: The Offering 

Author: Rosary Deville

Publisher: Self Published

Cover Artist: Zoe Perdita

Release Date: November 13, 2020

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

shifter fantasy, werewolves

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

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

abuse, violence, dom/sub, BDSM 

Heat Rating:  5 flames    

Length:  approx. 65 000 words/ 250 pages

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

 

Buy Links 

Smashwords

Currently unavailable on Amazon

Amazon US  |  Amazon UK

 

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

  

Blurb

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

Fern isn't like that.

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

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



Excerpt

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

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

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

No!

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

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

Hell, no!

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

The black alpha picked up speed.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

There he is again!

The black alpha.

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

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

 

  

About the Author 

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

 

      

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New Release - Love In Slow Motion by E.M. Lindsey #KindleUnlimited

RELEASE BLITZ

Book Title: Love In Slow Motion

Author: E.M. Lindsey

Publisher: E.M. Lindsey

Cover Artist: Amai Designs

Release Date: November 16, 2020

Genre/s:  Contemporary M/M Romance

Trope/s: Age gap, dad’s best friend

Themes: Bisexual awakening

Heat Rating: 4 flames       

Length:  95 000 words       

Goodreads

 

Buy Links - Available on Kindle Unlimited

Universal Link  |   Amazon US  |  Amazon UK 

 

Maybe it didn’t end there. Maybe it started with a kiss…

Blurb

The only thing Ilan Nadav knows about relationships and marriage is that they ruin people. He’s committed himself to the bachelor life, and he’s never been happier—until his best friend had to go and fall in the sort of toe-curling, sonnet-writing kind of love. Witnessing that created a hunger in Ilan, and now all he can see is the people standing near him who deserved better than they got. And one of those people makes his heart beat a little bit harder and a little bit faster—but he’s the last man in the world Ilan is allowed to want.

After all, Fredric Pedalino is his best friend’s dad.

When Fredric comes to him for advice about dating men, Ilan is forced to re-write his own reality—and maybe his stance on love, because Fredric is the sort of man with the ability to sweep him off his feet. Even when he isn’t trying.

Ilan wants Fredric more than he’s ever wanted anyone before, but he’s not sure he’s willing to take the risk. After all, loving that man might cost him everything.



Excerpt

“I was on a date when you called me. My first real date maybe ever. You know, the kind that didn’t mean a quick hook-up on my couch before I sent him packing.” Ilan let out a huffing breath, and his fingers stroked absently over Fredric’s knuckles, sending sparks shooting up his arm. “I saw your name and I knew if I answered that call, that would be it. It would be over.”

“And you did answer,” Fredric said softly.

“Yes,” Ilan breathed out, “I did. I did, knowing what I was getting into—but I also did it thinking it was safe because there was no way you wanted… me.”

Fredric’s stomach twisted and his heart thrashed. He hated how hard this was, how complicated, how much fear ruled the moments between them. But like Teddy said to him, it would be worth the effort. “Except I do.”

“And I don’t know how to tell you no,” but before Fredric could lean in and close the distance between them, Ilan went on. “And I don’t know how to say yes.”

Fredric nodded, deflating a little, but not pulling away. “Then have dinner with me. And a little more wine. And that cake you brought.”

Ilan was silent a long while. “And then?”

“And then we take Bas for a walk. You can tell me what the winter sky looks like here at night. I’ve never asked before.”

Ilan’s fingers twitched, and his voice was thick. “I can do that.” He paused again. “And then?”

“And then, we do it again—something else,” Fredric said. He shifted closer, until their knees touched, and Ilan pressed back against him. They started to tangle in places, more than their hands, and it felt right. And as much as he was still nervous, he felt safe. “We see movies, and we eat dinner. We take a tango lesson at the community center. We find a wine and paint night and you can help me paint a cactus.”

Ilan laughed. “Yeah?”

“Yes,” Fredric said. “I just need to know that it starts here.”

“Just a chance,” Ilan breathed out, like he was making the promise to himself, not Fredric. “And if…if I can’t,” he said, then stopped. “If whatever inside me has been so wrong for all these years stays wrong, and you need something more…”

He couldn’t imagine a world in which that would be possible, but he owed Ilan at least one promise tonight, and he could make it that one. Tugging their joined hands toward him, he pressed the warm knuckles to his lips and let them linger for a long, long moment. “We will never be broken.”

Ilan’s breath was softer this time, but still trembling—just like his hands. But instead of pulling away, instead of letting whatever he was feeling get the best of him, he didn’t let go.   

  

About the Author 

E.M. Lindsey is currently living in the United States. They spend their time writing, reading, hiking, and binging Netflix - in that order. Find their work exclusively on Amazon.

 

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