Death's Embrace Series Tour - H. L. Moore

DEATH’S EMBRACE SERIES TOUR

Author and Publisher: H. L. Moore

Cover Artist: Damonza

Pairing: MM (slow burn)

Genres: Fantasy (coalpunk)

The stories are best read in order.

Universal Buy Links for the Series 

DEATH’S EMBRACE SERIES BLURB

Doran Ó Seanáin, former miner and leader of the Black Lung Gang, and his best friend, Lien, are almost at a breaking point in their ongoing conflict with the city of Arajon’s tyrannical ruler. Just as things are spiralling out of control, Doran crosses paths with Nathaniel Morgenstern, an apotheker with a mysterious past. As their relationship develops against the backdrop of the ongoing social turmoil, the secrets Nathaniel is keeping might threaten to destroy them all…

BOOK DETAILS

BOOK 1

Book Title: Heart of Dust

Length: 59 000 words 

Release Date: 2019

Tense/POV: Third person, past tense, single POV

Tropes: Stabbing leading to meet-cute, yearning, slow burn romance 

Themes: Bisexual romance, dark pasts including alcoholism, drug addiction, atonement, forgiveness, worker’s rights

Heat Rating: 2 flames

It does not end on a cliffhanger, but leaves plot threads unresolved that are resolved in the next 3 books. 

Goodreads  |  Buy Links

Doran had a problem, and it wasn’t that he’d been stabbed.

Blurb 

Iole City is in turmoil.

Doran Ó Seanáin, leader of the Black Lung Gang, is determined to challenge the Archon, Arajon’s tyrannical ruler, for his brutal treatment of the miners. But Doran has more to deal with than getting stabbed and a city-wide lockdown that’s seeing his gang of ex-miners slowly starved out of their base. His daughter Grace has turned against him, and the death of his wife haunts them both.

Although he finds reprieve in Nathaniel Morgenstern, the apotheker with a mysterious past to whom he owes his life, the clock is ticking. The fate of the mines hangs in the balance and the Archon is closing in.

Doran’s plan to break the cycle may very well be his last.

BOOK 2

Book Title: Soul of Ash

Length:  86 000 words

Release Date: September 2020

Tense/POV: Third person, past tense, two POVs (alternating)

Tropes: Yearning, former assassin, slow burn romance 

Themes: Bisexual romance, dark pasts including alcoholism, drug addiction, atonement, forgiveness, worker’s rights

Heat Rating: 1 flame

It does not end on a cliffhanger, but some plot elements are unresolved (resolved in books 3 and 4)

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You can run, but you will never be free.

Blurb 

Half a year after the events of Heart of Dust, Doran Ó Seanáin now finds himself trapped between two worlds while belonging to neither: held in contempt by the Bronze for the turmoil he caused during Archon Bryson’s reign, and resented by the miners for selling out. Leonora Darkwater’s pursuit to own the mines may be the answer to all of his problems, but the offer is far more complicated than it appears, and the only person Doran trusts is the same man who threw his life into chaos.

Haunted by his past, hostage to a debt that cannot be repaid, and a slave to the poison that keeps him alive, atonement has never felt further out of reach for Nathaniel Morgenstern. Though the damage between him and Doran is too devastating to begin to mend, they have no choice but to face each other as their lives collide once more.

There is a rot in Iole City. The mines aren’t finished with Doran, and the sand in Nathaniel’s hourglass is running out.

BOOK 3

Book Title: Throne of Lies

Length: 63 000 words

Release Date: December 2024

Pairing: MM with hints of developing into MMF (slow burn)

Tense/POV: Third person, past tense, three POVs (alternating)

Trope/s: Political intrigue, forbidden romance, former assassin turned apotheker/healer

Themes: Bisexual romance, dark pasts including alcoholism, drug addiction, atonement, forgiveness, worker’s rights, political intrigue, coup.

Heat Rating: 3 flames

This book ends on a cliffhanger.

Goodreads  |  Buy Links

There are vipers in Arajon, from the Valley to the Bronze.

Blurb 

Grace Harrington, the Dowager Archon of Arajon, is approaching her first anniversary on the throne she claimed following the death of her husband, slain at her own hands.

But her position is so precarious that even the unwelcome presence of the former assassin Nathaniel Morgenstern, watching over her at her father’s behest, cannot protect her from her enemies. The city’s press has turned against her, the Bronze is rallying behind Odessa White, and her last hope of support from the Druids has gone up in smoke.

The lies are adding up. A coup is coming for Grace, and she is running out of people in the city to trust…

BOOK 4

Book Title: Valley of Secrets

Length: 123 000 words

Release Date: January 2025

Pairing: MM that develops into MMF (polyam), and a separate FF fast-burn relationship (femme/butch)

Tense/POV: Third person, past tense, four POVs (alternating)

Trope/s: Political intrigue, resistance against military coup, forbidden romance, former assassin turned apotheker/healer

Themes: Lesbian romance, polyam romance, dark pasts including alcoholism, drug addiction, atonement, forgiveness, worker’s rights, political intrigue, coup. 

Heat Rating: 3 flames

Most plot threads are wrapped up. Two further books are planned in the series but the series can also be finished here. 

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This city of fools will be brought to order!

Blurb 

Deposed, her father presumed dead, her friends slaughtered and the cavern in chaos, Grace Harrington is on the run and entirely alone. The only ally she has left is the man she hates most in the world: Nathaniel Morgenstern, the assassin who murdered her mother and seduced her father.

Grace’s only hope of reclaiming the throne and saving her people is to seek the aid of Éamon Tadhg, the High Druid of Arajon. But she needs to survive the hostile streets of Iole City before she can even think about fleeing to the Violet Valley.

Nathaniel made a vow to Doran to protect Grace, but he could never have imagined how quickly and horrifically their lives would fall apart.

Grieving the dual losses of the man he loved and his new friend Tsa Lien, Nathaniel devotes himself to the service of the overthrown Lady Archon who despises him – even if it costs him everything he is.

Excerpt from THRONE OF LIES (Book #3 of Death’s Embrace)

“I’m sorry. I, uh… I guess you probably want me to –”

Nathaniel braced his hand against the frame, using his arm to pause Doran’s advancement towards the door.

“Stay,” he said quietly.

He did not suggest it to continue what had been derailed by Leonora’s presence; neither he nor Doran seemed to be much in the mood for it any longer. 

But Doran must have needed Nathaniel’s request, for instead of shaking his head and leaving, he closed his eyes and sighed. 

“This wasn’t how I imagined the evening going,” Doran said.

Nathaniel laid a hand upon Doran’s chest. “Rest here tonight,” he said, and started to gesture to the main room where the couch was. “I can –”

Doran shook his head, opening his eyes again. “I’m not going to throw you out of your own room,” he said, a small smile finally returning to ease his features.

Nathaniel became sharply aware of the bed behind him, the darkness outside the windows, Doran’s hands that moved to rest upon his waist. The room was dim, illuminated only by a small oil lamp set upon the desk under the window that overlooked Arkadia Lane. Under the faint glow of the light, he held his breath while Doran moved his hands up his body then down his arms, urging his jacket off. It fell to the floor with a soft thump.

Nathaniel raised an eyebrow. “I have a wardrobe, you know,” he murmured.

“Maybe I want to see your clothes on the floor,” Doran replied.

The sudden rush of desire that gripped Nathaniel’s body rendered him speechless. Doran smirked, then kissed him. 

It was deep and tender, slow and heated; milk and honey on Nathaniel’s tongue after years wandering the desert, finally stepping foot in the promised land he had denied himself. In that moment, Nathaniel felt there was nothing between them – neither pasts nor crimes, neither guilt nor regret; just them, their souls laid bare, and a barrier of clothes of which Doran was stripping away with barely restrained desperation. 

He relished the gentle scrape of Doran’s evening stubble across his chin, groaned when Doran moved along his jawline and kissed his neck, urging him to tilt his head back and bare his throat, which Doran used to break for air and run his hand up Nathaniel’s chest. Then, with the flickering lamplight reflected in Doran’s eyes, his fingers began working the buttons of Nathaniel’s shirt undone one by one. He slid his hands inside under the fabric and around to Nathaniel’s back, up his shoulder blades, his fingers tracing the scars that latticed his skin. 

Nathaniel allowed Doran to undress him, stripping his shirt to the floor beside his jacket, and moved backwards when Doran guided him until the backs of his legs collided with the edge of the bed. 

“Sit,” Doran ordered.

Nathaniel sank down upon the mattress, his mouth dry as Doran knelt before him and began to unfasten the straps of his boots. He pulled off Nathaniel’s left boot first, then the right, leaving them askew on the floor – then Nathaniel’s hands clenched on the bedcovers and he groaned as Doran ran his hands up Nathaniel’s legs, curving around his calves, then over his knees, and all the way up his thighs and the strained fabric of his pants to reach for the buckle of the belt.

Hoarsely, Nathaniel said, “You don’t have to –”

“But I want to,” Doran interrupted, his voice low and heated. He rose to his feet now and stood between Nathaniel’s legs, gazing down at him through heavy-lidded eyes. “Do you?”

It had been years since Nathaniel’s last intimate encounter; longer still that it had been with someone for whom he had feelings that were not muted by the fog of Embrace. Such a thing was lost to him during his time with the Nameless. The physicality of sex had been heightened, certainly, while he himself was rendered as numb to the act as someone was used to the basic function of washing their hands. With a clear mind, he recalled of himself that some deep part not lost to the drug and his lifestyle must have found the experience undesirable, for he could count the number of unions he had engaged in during his adulthood on one hand. 

Doran’s touch was more potent, more electric, than anything Nathaniel had ever experienced under the thrall of Embrace. He felt he would die if he went one more night without knowing how Doran’s body felt against his.

“God, yes,” Nathaniel rasped, and Doran closed the distance between them.

About the Author 

A. L. Moore (she/they) is the author of the Death’s Embrace fantasy series and the Tales from the Jovian Empiresci-fi novella series.

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Works Like a Lavender Charm by Dann Hazel

NEW RELEASE

Book Title: Works Like a Lavender Charm

Author: Dann Hazel

Publisher:  The Original Press, LLC

Cover Artist: Dann Hazel, Josh Fippen

Release Date: April 13, 2026

Tense/POV: third person, past tense, single POV

Genres: MM Paranormal Romance

Tropes: Small town romance, destined love, investigator partners, slow-burn 

Themes: Forgiveness, fate, love powerful enough to heal generations, pursuit of justice

Heat Rating:  3 flames   

Length: 59 000 words/225 pages

It is part of the Tansy Hollow Gay Romance Series, but can be enjoyed as a standalone.

It does not end on a cliffhanger.

Goodreads

Buy Links

Amazon  |  Kobo  |  B&N  |  Smashwords  |  Apple Books

A sweeping gay romance blending second chances, small-town charm, ancestral secrets, and a love powerful enough to heal generations.

Blurb

When Austin attorney Charles Towne-Landon learns he has inherited the historic Chadwick House in Tansy Hollow, America’s Gay Mecca, it feels like fate offering him a second chance. Overlooked for partnership and disillusioned with big-city politics, Charles is ready for something more—more purpose, more belonging, maybe even more love.

Then he meets Dr. Guy Archambeau at the Tansy Hollow Opera House.

Their connection is instant. Electric. Unmistakable.

Within weeks, Charles leaves Texas behind to open his own law practice and build a new life in the charming Southern town. With Guy only a short drive away, the future looks brighter than it ever has
.
But Chadwick House has secrets.

A mysterious fruit basket appears inside locked doors.

A Gaelic lullaby drifts down from the attic at 3:33 a.m.

The scent of bergamot and lemon lingers in empty rooms.

And a violent vision from the nineteenth century begins to unravel a tragic chapter in Charles’s own bloodline.

As Charles and Guy dig into the house’s hidden archives, they uncover the story of Angus Chadwick—murdered for loving the wrong man—and the woman who refused to let hatred be the final word.

But someone else is watching.

Someone who believes the Chadwick legacy should have been his.

With danger closing in and a restless spirit guarding the house, Charles must decide what kind of man he wants to be: one who runs from the past—or one who stands his ground and protects the love he’s found.

In Tansy Hollow, history doesn’t just echo.

It demands justice.

Works Like a Lavender Charm is a sweeping gay romance blending second chances, small-town charm, ancestral secrets, and a love powerful enough to heal generations.

Some houses are haunted.

This one protects its own.

Excerpt 

"Malbec, please," he said with a smile to the volunteer. He paid her the exorbitant price for red wine in a plastic cup and gave her a generous tip, to boot.

Slowly, he moved into the majestic lobby area, cradling his cup of wine like a security blanket. He sipped, then moved toward an interesting piece of artwork hanging along a wall close to one of the double-door entrances to the theatre. He looked at the piece intently, as though studying it, absorbing it so that he'd never forget. And yet looking engaged did nothing to combat his deep feeling of loneliness. A man shouldn't go to a venue of great social expectations in a strange community where he knows no one. No matter the import of the play, or the playwright, the event was an alienating reminder of how lost he was in his murky life. 

How lost he had always been.

Curiously, he felt a strong sense of being scrutinized. He looked to his right and saw only a heterosexual couple pretending to be interested in a portrait when they were really waiting impatiently for the play to continue. 

Then, he looked to his left, only to meet the gaze of another man, approximately his own age, also standing before another painting. The man was roughly six feet away from him. 

The attractive gentleman smiled and nodded a silent greeting. He edged his way toward Charles.

"My name is Guy Archambeau," he said, pronouncing his first name as Gwee. "And you, my friend?"

"Charles. Charles Towne-Landon." He cast a good-natured warning glance at Guy. "Don't start. I know how affectatious it sounds."

Guy pursed his lips together. "Not at all, Charles. I like your name. There is a certain—dignity—about it."

"Are you visiting from France?" Charles blurted out.

"Non," Guy replied, his eyes glistening playfully. "I'm originally from Quebec, Canada. But I've lived in the States since I enrolled in medical school at Washington University School of Medicine. Now I live not far away from Tansy Hollow. In Green Valley." He shrugged. "But Charles, I'm sure you know of it, no?"

Charles smiled. "Actually, I don't. I'm from Austin."

"Ahhh. I see. Texas. Where everything is bigger. But my friend. Are they better? That’s the crucial question."

"Well, for the sake of honesty, I'm not originally from Texas. I practice law there. Originally, I grew up in Virginia."

"Still, Austin. You have traveled a long way to see a play, my friend."

Charles felt an attraction for Guy. Who wouldn't? He was dark complected. His hair was black and shiny. His eyes mysterious and dark. And was there any sexier an accent than a French one?

"Well, the play is actually a delightful happenstance. I'm in Tansy Hollow on a matter of personal business—which I won't bore you with."

Guy edged even closer to Charles. Their elbows touched briefly. "I'm certain you could never bore me."

Charles’ face reddened with pleased embarrassment—the same face that felt the fresh, minty breath that swept like a zephyr across his face. "So you are a fan of Sartre, too? I adore his work, both the plays he has written and the little bit of philosophy I've read. His ideas are more salient when they're dramatized on stage."

Guy touched Charles' right hand with his left. Unclear to Charles was whether the touch was intentional or not. "My French heritage predisposes me to revere the man. He is something of a hero to me. But I suspect that many people of French descent feel the same way."

Charles nodded. He swallowed hard. The arousal he felt became embarrassing. "It's easy to grasp why. The man is a genius."

Then, Guy laid a hand on Charles' shoulder—a very intentional touch this time—just as the lights blinked the end of intermission. "Do you have plans for dinner tonight?"

Charles chuckled. "I haven't given it a thought, really. Which is strange, since I'm already feeling very hungry."

Then, Guy executed a body press, so that their hips touched. The connection lingered. "Let's meet in front of the theatre after the final curtain," he said. Charles could have sworn he felt a trail of fingers across the middle of his back. "We can make a plan then. Because I have visited Tansy Hollow several times, I know of a few restaurants, any one of which I'd love to treat you to. We can meet at dinner time and go from there."

And with that, Guy and Charles returned to their seats, located nowhere near one another.

About the Author 

Dann writes gay romance novels along with other queer-themed works. He especially enjoys writing about men who, while dealing with trauma or other challenges, find themselves falling in love despite themselves. He also feels it's important to include allies who often provide good advice to their gay friends in a troublesome relationship.

When not writing, Dann enjoys running, reading in many genres, watching high quality movies and television series, and snuggling with his adorable American Eskimo dog, appropriately named Flurry. He loves showtunes (of course), golden oldies, classical music, and disco divas. 

Currently, Dann and his husband, Josh, reside in the Roanoke, VA area.

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Recent Release - Driven Together by Neil S. Plakcy

BLOG TOUR

Book Title: Driven Together

Author and Cover Artist: Neil S. Plakcy

Publisher: Samwise Books

Release Date: February 23, 2026

Tense/POV: First person/past tense

Genres: Contemporary MM Sports Romance

Tropes: Slow burn

Themes: Second chance at love, coming out

Heat Rating: 3 out of 5 flames

Length: 81 000 words/301 pages

It is a standalone book and does not end on a cliffhanger.

Goodreads

Buy Links - Available in Kindle Unlimited and Paperback

Amazon US  |   Amazon UK

They were each other’s first love—and the one that got away.

Blurb 

When journalist Wally Pulaski reunites with his college sweetheart Jonathan Hirsch, now a Formula 1 driver, old feelings ignite with dangerous speed. Jonathan is fighting for the championship of his life. Wally is assigned to cover the season, reporting every triumph and failure to a global audience that demands objectivity. Falling in love again could cost them everything they’ve built.

As the Formula 1 circus sweeps from Monaco’s glittering streets to historic European circuits and roaring modern tracks, Wally is pulled deeper into a world of precision engineering, split-second decisions, and relentless scrutiny. Behind the glamour lies a sport where careers are made and broken in fractions of a second, where every personal choice is magnified under the spotlight.

Balancing professional integrity with unresolved passion becomes a high-wire act. Media pressure mounts. Rivalries intensify. And the closer Jonathan comes to his dream, the harder it is for either man to pretend their hearts aren’t still in the race.

Driven Together is a second-chance MM romance set against the adrenaline and international spectacle of Formula 1. Combining the emotional depth of Tal Bauer and the sports-romance energy loved by readers of Rachel Reid, it delivers an intimate story of ambition, identity, and the courage to choose love in a world that never slows down.

As the season intensifies and the spotlight grows harsher, Wally and Jonathan must decide what they’re willing to risk for a second chance at the love they never forgot. Because in Formula 1, every fraction of a second matters—and so does every choice of the heart.

Ten years after losing each other, they have one chance to get it right—and this time, the stakes are higher than ever

Excerpt

I looked at him, really looked. Jonathan Hirsch, Monaco Grand Prix finalist, sitting in a dive bar in Monte Carlo at midnight, asking me to take a chance on something that might be wonderful or might be a complete disaster.

“Okay,” I said.

“Okay?”

“Okay, let’s see where this goes. Barcelona to Spa, five races to figure out if we’re brave enough to make this work.”

Jonathan’s smile was radiant. “That’s all I’m asking for.”

He kissed me across the small table, soft and sweet and tasting like beer and possibility. Around us, the bar continued its late-night rhythm, oblivious to the fact that a Formula 1 driver and a motorsports journalist had just decided to rewrite their carefully planned lives.

When we broke apart, Jonathan was grinning.

“What?” I asked.

“I was just thinking,” he said. “Once, we were too practical to try long distance. Now we’re going to try dating while you cover my races. We’ve either gotten much braver or much stupider.”

“Probably both,” I admitted. “But you know what? I’m okay with that.”

We finished our beers and walked back toward the harbor, where the parties still buzzed. Jonathan tugged me toward the paddock. Behind the glitter, the Monaco Grand Prix was already vanishing, piece by piece. Crews swarmed over the cars with military precision, wiping them down, draining fluids, and sliding them into padded crates as if they were Fabergé eggs instead of machines built for speed.

The air still vibrated with leftover adrenaline. The sharp tang of fuel, the sweet stink of rubber ground into the asphalt, the faint bite of hot brakes cooling in the night mixed with the briny breeze from the harbor, a perfume of glamour and grit all at once. Everywhere I turned, there was motion and sound: the staccato crack of impact wrenches, the slap of gloves on metal, the hollow thud of crates sealing shut. Cables coiled like sleeping snakes at the workers’ feet as garage walls folded into flat panels and tool chests slammed closed, the paddock dissolving from carnival into pure efficiency.

I couldn’t look away. One moment it had been champagne and music and color; now it was stripped to bare bones. Somehow that made it even more impressive. The glamour was temporary, but the precision and the discipline was permanent.

I breathed it in, dizzy with the noise and smells and sheer scale of it all. My first Grand Prix was ending, but even in its aftermath I felt the pulse of something bigger than myself, alive and relentless.

“By morning, you won’t even know we were here,” Jonathan said beside me in his Meridian jacket. “Barcelona’s only a few hundred miles. The trucks will drive overnight, and the setup crew will already be waiting.”

I nodded, picturing cars cocooned in trailers, engineers and mechanics scattering onto buses and budget flights while Jonathan and his teammates slipped onto a private jet with their race engineers.

The Monaco Grand Prix was over, but the season stretched ahead. Twenty-two more races, five more chances to figure out if second chances were worth the risk.

About the Author  

Neil S. Plakcy is an award-winning author of sexy, fast-paced MM romances including The Big Race, about which Joyfully Jay wrote “A truly enjoyable read.” He also writes the Ormond Yard series of Victorian MM romances, and the Love on series of sun-kissed South Beach romps. His website is www.mahubooks.com.

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Hunter’s Hidden Camera by Anthony Auswat

NEW RELEASE

Book Title: Hunter’s Hidden Camera

Author: Anthony Auswat

Publisher: Point Liberty Press

Cover Artist: Vangega 

Release Date: April 1, 2026

Tense/POV: first person, present tense, single POV

Genres: MM Psychological Thriller

Tropes: Forbidden desire, taboo obsession, slow burn, secret crush, friends to lovers

Themes: Coming of age, coming out, gay awakening, voyeurism, sibling rivalry

Heat Rating: 3 flames

Length:  68 000 words/318 pages

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

Goodreads

Buy Links - Available in Kindle Unlimited

Amazon US  |  Amazon UK

A high school track athlete with a perverse hobby. A college heartthrob with a secret life. A dark gay m/m thriller that will stop at nothing until everyone gets exposed.

Blurb

Hunter seems to have it all: brains, biceps, and a bright future beyond the halls of his oppressive high school. He also has a private obsession that he knows is wrong: secretly recording his older brother, Nash, with a spy cam. It starts as a thrill and morphs into a power trip. But one day, the video footage reveals something so disturbing that it cracks Hunter’s life straight down the middle.

Now he’s trapped in a nightmare where desire leaves fingerprints, loyalty pulls triggers, and the brother he thought he knew might be the most dangerous person in the room. To survive what he’s uncovered, Hunter turns to his best friend, Oscar, who may also be the man Hunter never knew he needed.

When the family you’re born into puts you at risk, the family you choose may be the only thing that keeps you alive.

Hunter’s Hidden Camera is an emotionally charged LGBTQ coming-of-age psychological thriller about hunger, shame, and the brutal cost of exposure.

Smile for the camera.

Excerpt 

M y brother has Big Dick Energy. He walks tall, as if he’s purposefully stretching out his body, a real-life Mr. Fantastic, his head held high but kind of cocked to the side, like he’s sizing up the world and impressed with what he sees. His arms swing almost carelessly, taking up more space around him than he needs. He’s got very visible swagger, his right foot landing on the ground a bit wider than his left one, landing a little crooked, as a way to make room for the almost always noticeable bulge in his pants.

But despite all this, despite the way he carries himself, he doesn’t come across as arrogant. His confidence is quiet. You can see it when you catch a glimpse of him alone, like when he’s cooking salmon and vegetables for himself for lunch or when he’s shooting baskets in the backyard. You can also see it in the way he interacts with others: the ease with which he talks to people, familiar and strange, and the friendliness he brings to almost every encounter.

I mean, I guess if you have a dick that big, life is all sunshine and blue skies and you want to be friendly to everybody. God, I hate him.

It’s not that I have a micro-penis or anything. I think I’m proportional, or at least average, or at least almost average, but it’s hard to tell because most of the dicks I see are in porn and that’s not the real world. I’m eighteen, my brother’s twenty-one, and I have now resigned myself to the fact that I’ll never catch up.

I’m thinking all this while digging in one of my brother’s dresser drawers, the one with all his underwear in it. He rotates between boxer briefs, trunks, and briefs, all different colors, some with patterns. He’s got designer brands like Calvin Klein and Diesel, but he’s also got some targeted at the youth market, from stores like Abercrombie & Fitch and Hollister. There are also a few very basic Fruit of the Loom and Hanes thrown in there, probably left over from his high school days.

Sometimes I wonder if his underwear works the same way a costume works for a superhero. Peter Parker is just Peter Parker, but when he puts on his Spider-Man outfit he is a man transformed. He is more confident, feels more powerful. Same goes for Iron Man, Ant-Man, most of them. Is my brother just a normal person, brimming with insecurities and worries, whose BDE only turns on when tighty-whities are wrapped around him?

My brother (his name is Nash) is away at college, currently a senior majoring in business, and my parents are on vacation in Las Vegas, so I have the house to myself this morning.

I grab one of Nash’s white Calvin Klein trunks. I’m jealous that he can rock these like a model. He wouldn’t look out of place next to Noah Centineo and Shawn Mendes, who broke the internet when their hot underwear ads were released. Again, it’s not that I’m out of shape or some kind of freak of nature. I’m actually pretty fit, pretty athletic, and pretty much the best track athlete at my school. It’s just that compared to Nash I feel like nothing.

About the Author

Anthony Auswat is the author of dark, demented, and deeply gay thrillers, including The Teacher Inside Me and Hunter's Hidden Camera, which were viral sensations online before they were officially published. He draws from personal experience and transforms it into genre storytelling. He lives in California, where he keeps a low profile and a high body count.

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And Then He Pressed Play: Track One by Robert J. Halliwell

RECENT RELEASE

Book Title:  And Then He Pressed Play: Track One 

Author: Robert J. Halliwell

Publisher:  Triple Scale Publishing 

Cover Artist:  Harrold-Vincent Villanueva

Release Date:  February 28, 2026

Tense/POV: Past tense, third person limited, dual POV

Genres: YA coming of age, MM Contemporary 

Tropes: Fish out of water, Shy-Sunshine, Idiots in love, exchange student

Themes: Found family, bisexual awakening, first love

Heat Rating:  1-1.5 flames

Length:  338 pages, 80 000 words

It is part 1 of a duology. It has a HFN ending with some heartbreak mixed in since the exchange program ends.

Goodreads

Buy Links

Amazon  |  Website  |  Kobo  |  B&N  |  Indigo

Blurb 

It's 2006 and Sixteen-year-old A.J. Walker is openly gay, painfully Canadian, and very much out of his depth. He’s wanted to do his school’s exchange program for years, but now that he’s landed at an all-boys school in Glenbridge Ireland—an ocean away from Moose Jaw Saskatchewan—he’s starting to question his decisions. Armed with nothing more than his trusty Discman and an accent that makes him stand out, A.J. has one goal: get through the Irish school year.

Born and raised in Glenbridge, Bren O’Shea has never known how to sit still or keep quiet. He’s also never known a day without laughter. Even when things get bad, Bren always knows how to get a smile out of someone, whether they asked him or not. His mam always says he needs to think before he acts, but as long as his heart’s in the right place, what’s the harm in a bit of impulse?

Glenbridge is the sort of town where everyone knows everyone—and unfortunately for A.J. once someone thinks they know you, it’s hard to change their mind.

After a rocky start that ends in disaster, Bren and A.J. need to decide if it’s worth reaching out to someone who’s so different from you—especially when one of you has to leave in June.

Excerpt 

Save me!

The chorus to “Bring Me to Life” rang in A.J.’s ears as he leaned against the damp, moss-covered wall at the far end of Glenbridge Secondary School. Even though the volume on his whirring Discman was cranked to the highest setting, it wasn’t enough to drown out the absolute bedlam that roiled around him. He’d thought his eleven years of attending school had shown him all the shades of feral guys came in, but standing to face the churning sea of testosterone before him, those years of experience all but melted away.

He couldn’t say for sure whether it was the fact Glenbridge had no girls to act as a buffer, or if his new classmates just didn’t come with volume knobs. Whatever the reason, he was doubting the wisdom of signing up for the exchange program with each passing second.

The main attraction stood at the end of the yard farthest from his wall. At least twenty guys, ranging throughout all the grades by the looks of them, were playing some sort of game A.J. had never seen before. Everyone carried strips of wood that looked like a cross between stubby hockey sticks and baseball bats. As far as he could tell, the goal was to balance, hit, or otherwise carry the baseball-sized ball from one end of the field to the other and get it past the goalie, all while being as loud as possible.

Separate from this unknown sport, groups of students stood in clusters throughout the yard. This wasn’t much different from what he was used to at first glance, but on closer inspection, each group was in a state of constant motion. Guys were speaking with their hands, elbowing their friends or slapping each other on the back with every other word. They seemed to communicate exclusively by shouting, with accents that A.J. had trouble understanding—even without the music thudding in his skull.

There didn’t seem to be another quiet person for him to approach. Not one other guy off on his own, reading a book, listening to music, or acting like they hadn’t downed about five cans of Monster.

A.J. rolled his shoulders, and the fabric of his uniform bit into his neck. He’d thought by making sure his clothes were in pristine condition before setting out that morning, he was applying a layer of camouflage. A uniform made things easier—or at least it should have.

To his dismay, it looked like everyone else had shredded the handout without looking at it. Shirts were rumpled, sleeves were rolled up, and despite the leaflet’s mention of neutral footwear, he spotted more than a few pairs of brightly coloured Nikes milling about.

In the brief lull between songs, his eyes fell on one of the worst offenders of this near-universal breach of dress code. Flame-bright hair stuck out at every angle across his head, like he’d rolled out of bed and walked straight out the door. His blue and silver striped tie was so loose the knot thudded against his sternum whenever he was in motion—which seemed to be his default setting.

He laughed as he peeled back the top of a yogurt lid and flung it with a casual flick towards one of his friends. It landed with a good stick on the boy’s breast pocket—right over the school crest.

A.J. was wondering how hard the first boy was going to get punched when the second one’s lip twitched. He grabbed hold of the lid and, with surprising dexterity considering the size of him, flung it back at the first boy. It landed between his eyes with a splat that A.J. thought he heard above his music. The rest of the group exploded with laughter as the redhead peeled the lid off, still wearing his crooked smile.

Without warning, the yogurt-covered boy turned from his group to toss the lid towards a nearby trash can. A.J.’s eyes darted away and came to rest on a patch of clover. Had the other boy seen him staring? Classes hadn’t even started yet, and he was already acting like a friendless loser.

He was a friendless loser.

His fingers found the dial of his Discman again, yearning to crank the volume up past its limits.

He’d all but decided to cut his losses and head inside early when he heard it. The sound of a muffled voice, far too close to be there by accident.

Shit.

A.J. let his eyes linger on the clover before dragging his gaze upward. Sure enough, there stood the boy from before.

A stray streak of pinkish yogurt clung to his fire-spun eyebrows where the lid had landed. Tiny beads of moisture glistened on his pale skin, shining among the freckles spread across the bridge of his sharp nose. It was impossible to tell whether it was sweat or not. If A.J. had learned one thing about Ireland in the two weeks he’d been there, it was that the humidity never dropped below chicken noodle soup.

A.J. fumbled with the dial while the other boy’s head tilted to the side, like he was trying to figure out the plot of a show he’d dropped into mid-season. With his music humming instead of roaring, A.J. shifted his gaze to meet the boy’s hazel eyes.

About the Author  

Robert J. Halliwell was born in the magical land of Canada during the age of butterfly clips and jelly sandals. He spent his formative years watching spooky movies and being jealous of Belle’s library from Beauty and the Beast. Many people don’t know Robert is married to an American Cyborg or that he’s secretly in possession of the two cutest cats in the world. He can often be found playing Dungeons and Dragons, knitting, or struggling to keep his garden alive.

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