17/02/2022

Heart of Stone (Juxtan 6) by Tricia Owens #kindleunlimited

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Book Title:  Heart of Stone (Juxtan 6)

Author: Tricia Owens

Cover Artist: Tricia Owens

Release Date: February 4, 2022

Genre: Fantasy M/M Romance

Tropes: Enemies to lovers

Themes: Redemption

Heat Rating: 5 flames   

Length: 60 000 words/285 pages

It is book 6 in the Juxtan series.

The story does not  end on a cliffhanger.

Goodreads - Juxtan series

Buy Links - Available in Kindle Unlimited

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Love can move mountains

Blurb 

Hadrian and his friends may have survived the encounter with Theon, but they paid a heavy price in the end. They need time to heal, both physically and emotionally. Unexpectedly, while recuperating in a small mountain town, they encounter the most powerful man in the land, who offers them protection and much-needed medical aid. The timing is fortuitous, but what secrets does this mountain palace hold? Is it truly a refuge, or is it soon to become their stone prison?

Excerpt 

"My tongue wants to be inside your arse," Caled whispered hotly.

"What?!" Hadrian looked around, panicked. "Stop it. Don't say another word." He pushed blindly through the street, trying to put the mercenary behind him but Caled hounded him like a shadow.

Fingers brushed the hair off the back of his neck and were quickly replaced by soft, warm lips. Hadrian moaned and struggled to keep walking, ignoring the few curious looks they garnered.

"You're causing a—scene," he warned, squirming beneath Caled's kisses.

A hand caught his shoulder and spun him around. Hadrian stumbled, but only fell back against the wall of a nearby building. Caled immediately loomed over him, both hands planted on either side of Hadrian's head.

"I want you." The mercenary’s blue eyes were the color of the edge of night. He wedged his thigh between Hadrian's and pushed it against his crotch. "I want you in every manner I can have you."

Hadrian clutched the other man's shoulders, wanting to push him away in shock, but unable to loosen his fingers. Caled’s passion was infectious.

But at the back of Hadrian’s mind a voice questioned the mercenary’s overwhelming ardor. Why would it spring up now, in the middle of the afternoon on a crowded street?

“Where did you go this morning?” he asked.

Caled paused only for a moment before resuming his slow rub between Hadrian’s legs. “Doesn’t matter. Nothing matters now except getting us naked.”

Hadrian straightened his arms, moving Caled back. “Please don’t lie to me. I need to trust you.”

Pain flitted across Caled’s features before he looked away. “I was looking for something.”

“What?”

A muscle rippled in Caled’s jaw. “A gift. For you.”

“For me? But why—” Hadrian caught himself.

Until now he’d not wanted to acknowledge the change he’d sensed in Caled. It was a softening. No, it was a soft spot within the mercenary that the man was evidently terrified of recognizing within himself. Hadrian could trace its formation—the night they believed Gam and Lio had been killed.

“I’m not going anywhere,” Hadrian told him. He cupped a cheek that sparkled with golden stubble. “Not ever.”

Caled shifted his weight from foot to foot, unusually restless. “I didn’t think you were.”

“I don’t require a gift to stay by your side.”

He frowned. “That’s not why I wanted to give you one.”

Hadrian leaned up and lightly touched his lips to the older man’s. “I know that you love me, Caledon ni Agthon.”

The mercenary closed his eyes and held Hadrian’s gloved hand to his cheek. “No. Don’t use that name,” he whispered. “Not until it’s over. I can’t be that man until then.”

Hadrian kissed him again. “You will always be the man I fell in love with, then and now. Deep down, you haven’t changed at all. That’s why I’ll never leave you.”

“You can’t leave me, Hades.”

The soft entreaty stabbed Hadrian through the heart. “I’d be a fool to do so. Are you calling me a fool?”

A smile curved Caled’s lips before he opened his eyes again. "Not a fool. Perfect. Sweet and delicious." He took the initiative to brush his lips over Hadrian's. "Which is why I must taste you this instant."

About the Author 

Tricia Owens has been writing m/m fiction since 2000, after stumbling onto the term ‘slash’ and thinking it referred to horror stories. She is the author of the Sin City, A Pirate’s Life for Me, and Juxtapose City series, among several others. She lives in Las Vegas.

Social Media Links

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The Moonstone Girls by Brooke Skipstone #giveaway

RELEASE BLITZ

Book Title: The Moonstone Girls

Author:  Brooke Skipstone

Publisher: Skipstone Publishing

Cover Artist: Cherie Chapman

Release Date: Feb 14, 2022

Genre: Historical (1967/68) F/F romance

Themes: Coming out, Rejection, Forgiveness

“The story is full of drama, heartache, humor, and hope, set against the backdrop of the late '60s—the Vietnam War and the draft, racial prejudice, homophobia, and a revolution in music.”

Queer rep: lesbian main character, lesbian and gay side characters

Trigger Warnings: homophobia, internalized homophobia, slurs, death, suicide, car accident, insensitive language/jokes, PTSD.

Heat Rating:  2 flames    

Length: 103 500 words/ 338 pages

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

Goodreads

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In 1968, a seventeen-year-old queer girl traveled to Alaska disguised as a boy.

Blurb

Tracy should have been a boy. Even her older brother Spencer says so, though he wouldn’t finish the thought with, “And I should have been a girl.” 

Though both feel awkward in their own skin, they have to face who they are—queers in the late 60s. 

When both are caught with gay partners, their lives and futures are endangered by their homophobic father as their mother struggles to defend them. 

While the Vietnam War threatens to take Spencer away, Tracy and her father wage a war of their own, each trying to save the sweet, talented pianist. 

At seventeen, Tracy dresses as a boy and leaves her parents in turmoil, with only the slimmest hope of finding peace within herself. She journeys to a girl with a guitar, calling to her from a photo, "Come to Alaska. We'd be great friends." 

Maybe even The MoonStone Girls.

Excerpt 

Hours later, after I'd practiced piano, had a few arguments about the war at dinner, and listened to complaints from Mom about Spencer’s continued absence, I slipped into my pajamas and tried to stay awake, listening to “19th Nervous Breakdown” from the Stones’ Big Hits album.

Something stumbled against my door. I heard Spencer cuss. I ran to the door and yanked it open just as my very drunk brother rapped his knuckles against the air.

“Whoa,” he said. “Where’d the door go? Hey, Sis.”

He wobbled just outside my room with a lopsided grin on his face then put his finger to his lips. “Shhhh. Don’t tell anyone, but I’m drunk.” He giggled.

“No shit.” I put his arm over my shoulder and turned him around. “Let’s get you to bed.”

“Whaa . . . No.” He jerked his arm away and banged it into the wall. “Ouch. Why’d you hit me?”

“You hit the wall, Spencer. Get to bed before you wake up Mom and Dad.”

He put his hands on my shoulders and his face an inch from mine. “You need to meet Pablo. He’s outside.”

“He drove you home?”

“Yeah. He thought I was too drunk to drive.” He breathed and giggled. “He’s a really nice guy. We had a good time.”

I laughed, trying not to pass out from the alcohol fumes. “Evidently.” I had never seen Spencer drunk. Dad would let us drink wine at dinner sometimes. Maybe share a beer between us. But Spencer was never that interested. Probably because Dad said a man’s got to learn how to hold his liquor. “What did you drink?”

His eyes crossed. “Tequila. Oh, that’s the best. From itsy bitsy glasses.”

“A shot glass?”

He held his hand like a pistol. “Bang. Bang. Shot after shot. C’mon, you need to meet him.”

I helped him down the stairs. He tiptoed to the foyer then grabbed the front door handle. Red lights flashed through the glass at the top of the door.

“Cops?” I helped him open the door, and we both stared at a policeman with his foot on the back of a young man, spread-eagled in our yard.

“Don’t you move, son,” yelled the officer.

Spencer’s eyes bulged as he screamed, “What are you doing?” He ran toward the officer.

Somebody's going to get shot! I followed. “Spencer! Stop!”

“He’s my friend!” He pushed the cop nearly to the ground then bent down to help Pablo.

I ran to the officer whose hand moved toward his holster. “That’s my brother’s friend. He drove my brother home and was waiting to meet me.” I stood between him and the boys, holding my arms up, gasping for breath.

The man looked at me. “You live here?”

“Yes, with Spencer and my parents.”

Pablo was on his knees crying. “I thought he was going to kill me.”

Spencer knelt and pulled Pablo to his chest. “You’re safe. You’re safe.” He bent down to pick up Pablo’s white beret, brushed it off, and set it on his head.

Pablo was thin and shorter than Spencer. His mouth hung open as he gasped for breath; his face was wet with tears.

Spencer clutched the boy against his chest and glared at the cop. “What did he do?”

“He was a Mexican outside our house at midnight,” I said. “Right, Officer?”

The man tightened his eyes at me. “I’ve never seen him in this neighborhood. He looked suspicious.”

“Suspiciously brown?” I barked.

“That’s enough, Tracy,” said Dad, tying his robe, as he strode down our walkway. “I’m Arthur Franks. This is my house. Did the boy do anything wrong?”

“He looked like he was trying to get inside that car, and I knew it wasn't his.”

Pablo's voice cracked. “I wanted my cigarettes. I just wanted to smoke a cigarette. ¿Qué carajo?”

I hoped the cop didn’t speak Spanish because Pablo had just said “What the fuck?”

“Are we done?” I asked.

The officer rested his hand on his pistol. "You sure you want this kid in your yard, Mr. Franks?"

"No, I'm not, but he'll be gone soon. We'll take it from here, Officer."

"Okay, but if you need anything, just call dispatch. I can be back here quick." He shot Pablo one last glare before sliding into his Castle Hills patrol car and drove away.

“Where have you been, Spencer?” Dad growled. “And do I smell alcohol on you?”

“If your nose works,” Spencer giggled. “We stayed at Dr. Sorel’s for a while then went to Pablo’s cousin’s house. I think I had one too many shots of tequila.” He giggled again.

“Maybe two too many,” laughed Pablo with a thick accent.

“You said tutu!” Spencer laughed.

“No, I said two too,” laughed Pablo as he playfully patted Spencer’s face. 

"Jesus," Dad muttered as he folded his arms and glared at the two boys.

About the Author 

Brooke Skipstone is a multi-award winning author who lives in Alaska where she watches the mountains change colors with the seasons from her balcony. Where she feels the constant rush toward winter as the sunlight wanes for six months of the year, seven minutes each day, bringing crushing cold that lingers even as the sun climbs again. Where the burst of life during summer is urgent under twenty-four-hour daylight, lush and decadent. Where fish swim hundreds of miles up rivers past bear claws and nets and wheels and lines of rubber-clad combat fishers, arriving humped and ragged, dying as they spawn. Where danger from the land and its animals exhilarates the senses, forcing her to appreciate the difference between life and death. Where the edge between is sometimes too alluring. 

The MoonStone Girls is her fourth novel. Visit her website at brookeskipstone.com for information about her first three novels—Crystal’s House of Queers, Some Laneys Died, and Someone To Kiss My Scars.

Social Media Links

Blog/Website  |  Instagram

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13/02/2022

Grieving Royal by Elouise East #kindleunlimited #giveaway

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Book Title: Grieving Royal (Club Royal, Book 3)

Author: Elouise East

Cover Artist: Design By Tina Løwén

Release Date: February 3, 2022

Genre: Contemporary M/M Romance 

Tropes: MMM, royal BDSM club, hurt/comfort

Themes: Grief/loss

Heat Rating:  4 flames   

Length: 108 000 words

The story does not end on a cliffhanger.

Goodreads

Buy Links - Available in Kindle Unlimited

Universal Link  |  Amazon US  |  Amazon UK 

Losing himself to the shadows is not possible, but who can help him learn to live again?

Blurb 

Despite being third in line to the throne, George doesn’t believe he will ever be king, and he is content with that knowledge. He prefers to live his life in the shadow of his brothers because he can hide his extra-curricular activities there. When his life is torn apart by grief, he loses himself in those shadows until he focuses on what matters to him. Love.

More media attention is the last thing Timothy wants. He left his hometown to get away from it, but his new position makes that almost impossible. Balancing the requirements of his teaching role, the needs of his new patient, and the feelings that should never have grown, he struggles to see the right course of action until the choice is taken away from him.

Stepping back inside the place where Eddie had been abused by the one person who should’ve taken care of him has been harder than he expected. Finding someone who is patient enough to help him through his anxieties about a BDSM relationship is easier. Unfortunately, royal duties threaten to pull them apart before they’ve even started.

As the three lives intertwine in the unlikeliest of situations, who will throw themselves into the deep end, and who will back away, scared of the repercussions?

This is an MMM book containing BDSM scenes and D/s dynamics in all forms. It also has lots of loving, friendships, family drama and, of course, a triple HEA.

Excerpt 

“Eddie!”

He searched the room for the voice but couldn’t see anyone until Master George stepped through the parted crowd. 

Eddie lowered his head. “Master George.” Eddie’s heart raced, and he couldn’t contain his smile.

“Clarice didn’t hear from you. Does that mean you’ve decided not to go ahead with what we talked about?”

Was he supposed to have called her? “Oh, um, I still want to go ahead with it. I forgot to call her and tell her. I was excited about coming tonight and didn’t think about calling ahead.”

“Shh. Eddie, breathe. It’s fine.” Master George slipped an arm around Eddie’s shoulders. “I wanted to go through a contract with you, that’s all. Can we do that now?”

Eddie didn’t want to read a contract. He wanted Master George. “Can we do it later?” he asked, eyes still lowered.

Master George was quiet, then a finger curved under his chin, lifting his head. When he met the vibrant blue eyes, he relaxed.

“Better. Yes, we can do it later, but we must do it if you want to go ahead.”

“I do, Sir. Definitely.”

Master George smiled. “What would you like to do tonight?”

Eddie licked his lips. “I’m not really sure.”

“Do you trust me?”

“Implicitly,” Eddie said in a firm voice.

Master George nodded once. “Come on.”

Eddie went with Master George to one of the private rooms but hesitated at the threshold, even though Master George still had his arm around him. 

“What’s wrong?” Master George stepped in front of him and cupped his jaw, bringing their gazes together. “Talk to me.”

“This is the room…Master Douglas found me in.” Eddie’s heart pounded. He knew he’d have to face the room eventually because it was ridiculous to think a space could have this much of a hold over him.

“Let’s try another room.”

“No! Sir. No.” He stared into Master George’s eyes. “Will you help me?”

“With anything and everything I can. What do you need?”

“I want to do it here. I need something good to wash away the bad memories of this room.”

“Are you sure, Eddie? There is no weakness in not being ready.”

“I’m sure.” He nodded to emphasise his answer.

Master George stared at him for a long minute, then nodded in return. He slid his hands into Eddie’s and gripped them hard. “I’m here.” He stepped backwards, tugging Eddie into the room with him. 

Every step had Eddie’s palms sweating and his heart jumping, but when they finally stopped in the centre of the room, Eddie sighed. He glanced around, never letting go of Master George’s hands.

About the Author  

I am Elouise East but feel free to call me Elli. I write sweet and steamy connections in gay romance. I also touch on taboo stories under the name Elouise R East.

Books that tell the stories where friendship and family are the focal point - be it blood family or chosen - is very important to me. That’s why I include a variety of personalities, talents, ages, situations and abilities as I believe a story or a character needs. I want my characters to be real, to be relatable, to be free to have whatever views they tell me they have. And trust me, most of the time, I do not have any say in the matter!

My characters come to life on the page for me as well as my readers. Their stories unfold in front of me, and I have very little input into how they want to be shown. Just like real life, the lives of my characters change with every choice, every interaction and every conversation. And I wouldn’t have it any other way.

I write books that are emotionally realistic, even if liberties are taken with other aspects of my stories. I don’t know any other way to write. It comes from deep inside.

Who am I? A single parent to two children who make life worth living. An avid reader who still devours every book she can get her hands on. A student of learning about any subject that takes her fancy. An author of books she would read herself. And a romantic at heart who loves anything cheesy. 

Who’s in?

Author Links

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04/02/2022

Embers of Darkness (D’Vaire, Book 27) by Jessamyn Kingley #kindleunlimited

RELEASE BLITZ

Book Title:  Embers of Darkness (D’Vaire, Book 27)

Author: Jessamyn Kingley

Publisher: Independently Published

Cover Artist: LJ Anderson, Mayhem Cover Creations

Release Date: February 3, 2022

Genres: M/M Romance, Paranormal Romance, Fantasy Romance 

Trope/s: Fated mates

Themes: Love, reconciling the past

Heat Rating:  3 flames

Length: 90 503 words

It is not a standalone story. The book does not end on a cliffhanger.

Check out the D'vaire Series on Goodreads

 Buy Links - Available in Kindle Unlimited

Amazon US  |  Amazon UK

To embrace the future and find love, both men must face the darkness of their pasts. 

Blurb

A man torn between what his soul wants and what he believes is expected of him, Scheredin D’Vaire is still fiercely loyal to his family. Scheredin is one of the few remaining warlocks and spends his days aiding his cousins in running the D’Vaire sanctuary. In his free time, Scheredin loves gaming. With the tap of a few keys, Scheredin can lose himself in another world. 

Kieran Tarinthfenix is a phoenix shifter whose tribe likes to forget that elf blood also runs through their veins. A driven man, Kieran takes his hobby of gaming and learns to craft titles of his own. He hands his income to his chieftain despite Kieran’s lack of respect for a man who forces his people to take part in an ancient but cruel ceremony every year.

Scheredin and Kieran meet online and quickly grow into gaming buddies. For years, they are content with an online relationship and the anonymity it provides. When Scheredin decides to meet Kieran in person, they discover they’re mates, but there are secrets between them. To find lasting love, both men will have to throw away the past and seize their destinies.

Excerpt 

A product of elven blood, even though the Tarinthfenix refused to admit it, Kieran had lacked any kind of sexuality until that moment. His breath caught, knowing that inside the shop was his mate. Stepping into the bright space, Kieran scanned the customers, and his silver gaze with hints of purple locked on a short man with dark hair and a light goatee. 

His expression was one of shock, and there was little else to read in his heavily lashed green eyes. In his hand was a stunning lily of blue and black, which brought a smile to Kieran’s face. Somehow, it made perfect sense that the man he’d become instant friends with all those years ago was the other half of his soul.

Crossing the distance that separated them, Kieran’s grin grew as he delightedly considered the handsome man still staring at him blankly. “Hi, Scheredin.”

“Hi, Keladriel. I’m Brexton,” said the man at Scheredin’s side, who resembled him a great deal.

“A pleasure to meet you, Brexton,” Kieran replied immediately and flicked his attention back to Scheredin.

Brexton nudged Scheredin’s shoulder. 

“Say hello,” he murmured to Scheredin, whose mouth snapped shut.

“Hi, Keladriel,” Scheredin whispered.

“Crazy, right?” Kieran asked. “Makes me kind of mad. We should’ve planned this a long time ago.”

“What does that mean?” demanded a broad-shouldered man with navy eyes and soft brown curls.

“Keladriel is my mate, Brogan,” Scheredin told the tall guy.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” yelled a man around Scheredin’s height as his hands rose to grab fistfuls of his blond ringlets, catching the attention of several customers.

“You can calm down,” Brogan growled. “I already know you’re going to give me shit for the rest of eternity.”

“Hi, I’m Dra’Kaedan,” the blond said, shouldering his way between Scheredin and Brexton to wave. “I was so excited I nearly forgot and tried to shake your hand.”

Kieran was seconds away from refuting Dra’Kaedan’s assumption that he was an elf, despite his ears and attire, when the name hit him. “Like, Grand Warlock Dra’Kaedan D’Vaire?” 

Although he wasn’t allowed to explore the outside world, it fascinated Kieran, and he’d often read about the famous people within the Council. As far as Kieran could tell from the online newspapers, there were few families as reputable and powerful as the D’Vaires, so it made sense that people would name their kids after the royal family.

“He is Grand Warlock Dra’Kaedan D’Vaire,” Scheredin remarked. “We’re all D’Vaires. The tall guy behind him is his mate, Grand Duke Brogan D’Vairedraconis. At the table next to you pretending not to listen are Coven Lord Bridger D’Vaire and Coven Lord Hadley D’Vaire. They’re here to protect me in case you turned out to be a homicidal maniac planning to butcher me in a coffee shop or whatever other nefarious idea Brogan had for what might happen today.”

“Why does everyone always make me sound crazy?” Brogan demanded.

“Please, you do that all by yourself, Mate,” Dra’Kaedan muttered.

“Do you follow all elven traditions even though you aren’t a part of the Council?” Brexton asked, cocking his head.

Kieran wasn’t fond of lies, but there was no hesitation in his soul over his matebond. Although they had plenty to learn about each other, Kieran knew Scheredin’s character and was wildly attracted to him. He was ready to explore his new sexuality with the attractive man studying him, and Kieran understood that their belief that he was an elf named Keladriel could help speed up the process of binding them together for eternity. 

Not only would Kieran not have to wait to be with Scheredin, but he could also finally walk away from the Tarinthfenix without guilt.  Fate wanted Kieran to be with Scheredin, and he was fully on board with her plan. In fact, in Kieran’s eyes, she couldn’t possibly have done better. Kieran’s gift was his closest friend and a real, honest-to-Fate warlock to boot. 

If there was anything that fascinated Kieran more than the Council, it was magic, and Scheredin likely had plenty. While building the foundation of the most important relationship of his life with dishonesty wasn’t the smartest choice, Kieran would explain who he truly was and give Scheredin his real, non-elf name as soon as they were mated. It was perhaps not the best way to speed up the timeline, but Kieran could find no patience, and his beast was egging him on.

Instead of answering Brexton’s question with a complete falsehood, Kieran went with his gut. “I’d like to have a mating ceremony as soon as possible if you’re okay with that, Scheredin.”

“I will honor your customs, Keladriel. It’s not like we’re total strangers.”

It rankled both man and phoenix to have his other half call him by the wrong name, even though it was the one he went by in the game, but Kieran set the outrage aside and smiled again. “Thank you.”

About the Author 

Jessamyn Kingley lives in Nevada where she begs the men in her head to tell her their amazing stories which she dutifully writes it all down in what has become a small mountain of notebooks. She falls in love with each couple and swears whatever book she wrote last is her absolute favorite.

Jessamyn is married and working toward remembering to start the dishwasher without being distracted by the scent of the magical detergent. For personal enjoyment, she aids in cat rescue while slashing and gashing her way through mobs in various MMORPGs. Caffeine is her very best friend and is only cast aside briefly for the sin better known as BBQ potato chips.

Visit her website 

Join her Facebook group, Jessamyn's Ruffian's

Social Media Links

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03/02/2022

A Particular Friendship by Paul Van der Spiegel #giveaway

BOOK BLAST

Book Title: A Particular Friendship

Author: Paul Van der Spiegel

Publisher: Perceptions Press

Cover Artist: Paul Van der Speigel

Release Date: November 28, 2021

Genre: Contemporary M/M Romance

Tropes: Boy meets boy, loses boy, gets boy back again

Themes: Religion and being gay, coming out as an older man

Heat Rating: 3 flames

Length:  62 000 words/ 225 pages

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

Goodreads

Buy Links

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Tom Morton is a gay Catholic priest whose lover comes back into his life leading to a confrontation with a powerful bishop.

Blurb 

The story has two timelines. In the odd-numbered chapters we meet Tom, an isolated fifty-year old parish priest of St. James’ Church, a Jesuit-built church in a northern English town. Tom is an in-the-closet gay man in an increasingly intolerant Catholic Church, an organisation that defines homosexuality as inherently disordered with traditionalist elements blaming incidents of child sex abuse on an underground ‘pink mafia’. Antony, the only man Tom has ever fallen in love with, the man he abandoned thirty-years earlier, arrives in church to ask Tom to provide the Sacrament of the Sick to his dying mother. 

In the second timeline, the even numbered chapters, we see Tom from childhood through to his ordination as a priest. As Tom grows into adolescence the confusion begins: he has experiences with girls, as well as burgeoning romantic and sexual feelings for his friend, Antony. After they sleep together for the first time, as the pressure to conform to a heterosexual society reaches fever-pitch, Tom abandons his lover and flees to the Church. At Ash Burrow seminary, Tom finds acceptance, a masculine culture, and other gay men like himself.

The novel has three sections. The first section describes Tom meeting Antony again after decades apart, the rekindling of their relationship, and how history repeats itself with Tom siding with the Church against his love. In the second timeline, we see Tom’s childhood, and the repercussions of the tragic car accident that kills his father and brother.

The second section describes Toms emotional collapse and the deterioration of his mental health until he reaches the point where he is actively suicidal. In contrast, we see Tom’s teenage-self approaching life with a sense of potential. The section ends with Tom coming out to his congregation and informing them that he is HIV positive and has been for twenty years.

In the third section, Tom is sacked, and St. James church is closed and put up for sale. Tom is also dealing with the scars of a violent sexual assault suffered whilst he was a seminarian at Ash Burrow – the perpetrator, Derek Worrell, is now the Bishop of Preston. In the second timeline, we see Tom’s life at the seminary, his romances, his appreciation of the structure of the Church, and the horrific incident that changes his life forever.      

The story reaches its close with a group of gay Catholic priests standing with Tom against the bishop and the diocese. Antony proposes to Tom in a crowded railway station, and they prepare to begin their lives together.  

Excerpt

Excerpt from ‘A Particular Friendship’

Tom read the gospel according to John. 

‘When it was almost time for the Jewish Passover, Jesus went up to Jerusalem. In the temple courts, he found people selling cattle, sheep, and doves, and others sitting at tables exchanging money. So, he made a whip out of cords and drove all from the temple courts, both sheep and cattle; he scattered the coins of the money changers and overturned their tables. To those who sold doves he said, “Get these out of here! Stop turning my Father’s house into a market!”’

‘Jesus was a man of action,’ Tom told his congregation, ‘a person who would take risks. Jesus did not stop to do a risk assessment, fill the forms in, or consult a firm of speciality solicitors. Instead, he acted out of a deep conviction, the conviction that love is God, that love is central to our lives, that crowding our lives with the busyness of business leaves no room for goodness. Jesus felt fear, just like us, but he did what he knew God wanted him to do.’ 

After the blessing and dismissal, the Arundel children, Sophie and Danny, led the way from the altar to the church entrance, brother and sister dressed in matching black cassocks and white surplices. Standing on the tiled steps, Tom shook the hands of his parishioners, blessed proffered rosaries and crucifixes on chains, waved goodbye to the choir, thanked visitors for coming. 

On his way back to the sacristy, Tom found Mike Arundel waiting by the Lady Altar as his children snuffed out the candles and tidied up.

‘Hello, Mike,’ Tom said, as he strode past.

‘Father Morton,’ Mike Arundel replied. 

‘See you, Father Thomas,’ Sophie said, as she hung her cassock on a hanger in the wall cupboard and disappeared into the church.

‘How are you finding things at St. Pat’s, Danny?’ Tom asked. ‘I went there myself, a long time ago.’

‘Everyone seems really nice. Mister Cooper is strict though.’

‘I went to school with your headmaster. He was in the year above me.’

‘Yeah.’

‘It’s a big change, going to high school.’

‘Yeah,’

‘Do you see your sister around school much?’

‘Not much.’

‘What subjects do you like best?’

‘I like music and drama.’

‘What about sports, football and rugby?’

‘I don’t like football.’

‘I didn’t like it either at school. I was useless. I like watching it now though.’

‘My dad takes me to watch Bussell Athletic.’

‘That sounds fun.’

‘I’ve got to go… my dad will be waiting.’

‘Hi five, Danny.’

The boy slapped the priest’s hand and then he was gone.

‘Go and sit with your sister in the car,’ Tom heard Mike Arundel tell his son.

‘Father Morton,’ Mike Arundel said, as he stepped into the sacristy, ‘keep your hands off my boy.’

‘I beg your pardon?’ Tom said.

‘You heard me.’

There was a loud knock at the front door of the rectory and Tom, still stunned, walked from the sacristy into his home. Opening the door, he found a dishevelled woman with a supermarket carrier bag in her hands. 

‘Hello, Father Morton. I’m sorry to trouble you. I’ve had nothing to eat for two days. Can I come in?’

Tom fought the compulsion to tell the stranger to piss off, to tell her that now was not a good time. In fact, it was an incredibly bad time. He bit back his anger. Then, he did what he was supposed to do and invited the woman in.

‘Come in, please. Would you like some food?’

‘Thank you, Father. I thought you were going to tell me to fuck off there, for a minute.’

‘No, not at all. Sorry, I was having a senior moment. The kitchen is this way. Please follow me.’

As his guest took her seat at the table, Tom brought out a slice of Joan Bird’s ‘Friday fish-day’ pie from the fridge. 

‘I’ll warm this up for you. Would you like a tea or a coffee with that? Let me plug that phone in for you.’

‘Can I use your bathroom, please? I promise I won’t rob nothing.’

‘There isn’t anything worth stealing, I’m afraid, not unless you like religious books. The bathroom is upstairs, first door on the left.’

Tom warmed the pie in the microwave and put some frozen green beans into boiling water on the stove. 

‘You’re welcome to have a shower whilst you’re here, if you like. There is a lock on the door so needn’t worry about your privacy,’ he said, as his visitor returned.

‘Are you saying I smell?’

‘Gosh no. I would never say that. I was just…’

‘I’m messing with you. I’m Rosie.’

‘Hi, Rosie,’ Tom said, extending his hand, ‘I’m Tom.’

‘You’re a good priest, Father Morton. I can tell. Not like some of the others.’

‘That’s kind of you. Funnily enough, I’ve just had a rather unpleasant conversation with a parent who told me in no uncertain terms that I am not allowed to clap hands with his son.’

‘The bad apples spoil it…’ Rosie said, dissolving into a coughing fit, holding her sleeve to her mouth.

‘Are you okay?’ Tom said, concerned. ‘Can I get you anything?’

‘No, I’m fine,’ Rosie said, fishing a fistful of paper napkins from her pocket and wiping her mouth. 

‘I think your food is ready.’

Tom watched as Rosie devoured the food, finishing her plate in a matter of minutes. 

About the Author 

I am the author of the Queer Testament series (Trans Deus - about a trans woman Christ, 7 Minutes - about coming out at the point of death, Parably Not - an illuminated book in the tradition of William Blake, and A Particular Friendship- a story about a gay Catholic priest who finds himself in conflict with his sexuality and his Church). My stories are about the intersection of faith and sexuality. I am a Will Blake obsessive and I’m working on new material based on his themes of sex and gender fluidity, revelation and rebellion. I love reading (Alan Garner, Alan Moore, Susan Cooper, Ballard, and PK Dick especially). I live in Manchester, England. 

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