Category: Blog Tours

GUEST POST: ON APPROPRIATION BY KAREN CHASE, AUTHOR OF TWO TALES: JAMALI KAMALI AND ZUNDELSTATE

On By authoranthonyavinablogIn Blog Tours, Book Events, Guest Post1 Comment

On Appropriation

     For almost forever, writers have been advised to “write what you know.” At this tricky moment in our culture, that phrase has gathered momentum. Writing what you know is often a tidy and effective way not to appropriate someone else’s identity.

    In my newly released book, Two Tales: Jamali Kamali and ZundelState, I have written two stories that did not grow from what I know but from what I don’t know. In these pages, I will talk about the first tale. Jamali and Kamali lived in sixteenth century India and are buried together in a small tomb in India. The poem is a fictional account of their love, separation, and death. 

     Here’s what happened. In 2004, I spent a month-long writing residency at the Sanskriti Foundation in Delhi.  One morning, a week after I arrived – I hadn’t written a thing that first week and didn’t really care — the Sanskriti residents were told that later that day, we would have a chance to visit the newly restored Jamali Kamali Mosque and Tomb, which had been in the process of restoration for seven years. 

     Our bus arrived at the overgrown park entrance.  We traipsed alongside a river full of plastic garbage, climbed through hills of brush, climbed over unrestored ruins, climbed through Balban’s Tomb, and finally arrived on top of a hill, a plateau, where the Jamali Kamali Mosque and Tomb stood.  A brand-new sign at its entrance informed visitors that the Tomb held the remains of Jamali, a 16th century Sufi Court Poet and Saint and Kamali, whose identity, the sign said, was unknown.

     When I entered the tomb, its beauty startled me.  Looking at the two white marble graves, the conservator began to talk.  He explained who Jamali was, then said, “It is believed, through Delhi’s oral tradition, that Kamali was his homosexual lover.”  “What?” I blurted out, “But…. the new sign out front says his identity was unknown.  I don’t understand.  Why does the sign say that Kamali’s identity is unknown.”  He explained that, in fact, no-one really knows for sure who Kamali was, and also the information that he may have been Jamali’s male lover would never be announced on a public sign, taking into account the beliefs of our large Muslim population.”  

     Deeply jarred by the disjuncture of that moment, when I returned to my Sanskriti desk, I began to write as if I were Jamali speaking to Kamali.  I had nothing in mind. No direction. By the end of three weeks in Delhi, there was a draft of the first section of Jamali Kamali.  Almost two years later, what began that moment in Delhi, had grown into a book-length poem.

     Many people have asked me, “Why did YOU write this book? The answer is – I don’t really know. 

     I’m not a man.  I’m not gay. I’m not Indian.  I’m not Muslim. I’m not a Mughal scholar.  I’m not an art historian. I’m a straight white American Jewish 21st century woman. I’ve crossed many lines here – gender, sexual orientation, time, hemisphere, religion, culture, etcetera. Without intention, I appropriated.

    Since then, many people who have read Jamali Kamali, believe I was channeling the men. Others have mistaken it for a translation of Jamali’s poetry. And, strangely enough, in India, my poem has been cited numerous times as a historical record about the two men.

     Opening oneself to the unknown paves the way for large-scale exploration rather than the up-close, confining details of “what I know.” The unknown is a wider plain—a vast place where options flourish. It expands the smallness of “what I know.” 

     Was I channeling these men? Is the poem an expression of my subconscious? Or is it the imagination at work? Are these three things separate, do they overlap, or are they the same thing? Who knows. What I do know is that when you open the mind’s flaps, leave behind what you know, and walk through a blank landscape, you may be taken aback by what you find.

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About the Author

Karen Chase is the author of two collections of poems, Kazimierz Square and BEAR, as well as Jamali-Kamali: A Tale of Passion in Mughal India, a book-length homoerotic poem, published in India in 2011. Her award-winning book, Land of Stone, tells the story of her work with a silent young man in a psychiatric hospital where she was the hospital poet.

In her memoir Polio Boulevard, Chase brings the reader back to the polio outbreak of the 1950s that crippled our country. In her lively sickbed she experiences puppy love, applies to the Barbizon School of Modeling, and dreams of Franklin Delano Roosevelt. The Larooco Log: FDR on the Houseboat, a project that grew directly out of her memoir, follows Franklin Delano Roosevelt during a Florida winter when he lived on a houseboat, attempting to regain use of his paralyzed legs. History Is Embarrassing, her collection of essays, was published in 2024, and Two Tales: Jamali Kamali and ZundelState, in 2025.

Karen Chase’s poems, stories and essays have appeared in The New Yorker, The New Republic, The Gettysburg Review and Southwest Review, among others. Her poems have been anthologized in The Norton Introduction to Poetry, Andrei Codrescu’s An Exquisite Corpse Reader, and Billy Collins’ Poetry 180. Chase and her husband, the painter Paul Graubard, live in Western Massachusetts.

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BLOG TOUR: THE GREAT FOREST AND OTHER LOVE STORIES BY WARREN ROCHELLE + GUEST POST

On By authoranthonyavinablogIn Blog Tours, Book Events, Guest PostLeave a comment
The Great Forest and Other Love Stories - Warren Rochelle

Warren Rochelle has a new FF/MM romance fantasy/sci-fi short story collection out: The Great Forest and Other Love Stories. And there’s a giveaway!

“The course of true love never did run smooth” might be a cliché, but for the lovers in these stories, it’s an understatement. Consider: having to rescue your beloved from seven years of service to sentient trees, or your lover wants you to curse an entire town, or your husband is sure aliens are calling to him from a comet. Find out what happens in these and other stories in The Great Forest and Other Love Stories.

Warnings: neglectful parents, end of the world

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Giveaway

Warren is giving away a $20 Amazon gift card with this tour:

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Excerpt

The Great Forest And Other Stories - Warren Rochelle

Chesapeake Air and Spaceport, North Terminal, Interplanetary Concourse A

The sun shimmered on the water, as the train pulled into the Chesapeake Air and Spaceport RR station. He gathered his things and walked out onto a winding path, into a garden of dwarf sugar maples and ash trees. The path led him over a little bridge and a stream, and lavender star-shaped flowers. He stopped there to collect himself, to remember what his therapists had taught him, Alana on Avalon, and Gavin and Julia, at Blue Ridge. Deep breaths, center and focus on the safe, on the gurgle of the stream below his feet, the star-shaped flowers, blooming by the water. Interrupt his fear-talk looping, be present now. The main building of the spaceport was straight ahead. The building seemed almost made of sunlight and water. Sea turtles, eels, dolphins, and sea horses seemed to be swimming inside its walls.

Inside, the spaceport would be filled with people from all across Terra, from who knew how many HC planets. And aliens. Strangers, all of them. Breathe in for three, hold for four, release for five. Center. Through the sliding glassteel doors, follow the signs to the ticket kiosks. Everybody was busy, going, coming. Edvard was just one more young human.

He could do this, and he had done it. He could do it again. He could hear Luc telling him that, as he touched him, kissed him.

I’m coming.

No answer.

Scattered trees inside, fountains and pools. Whoever designed the spaceport must have wanted it to look as if it was part of the bay itself. Water currents and tree-shapes in the metal and glassteel, the beams, and the afternoon sun visible in a great skylight over the departure lobby. Were those real birds flying overhead? Edvard caught the off-world accents he knew as he walked—Avalonian, Jardinero, New Scandinavian. A trio of enhanced chimpanzees, clearly traveling on business. He tried to stare at the nest of Kalsons traveling together, with their pointed ears, white-gold hair, and skin. Like Luc and his father. There were a few Kalsons like Manon with skin a darker gold, hair, a deep brown. He stepped back, as did everyone around him, at who he saw next coming down the concourse. Even though the Second Interstellar War had ended thirty-three standard years ago, clearly not enough time had passed for any Zoki to walk through the one of the largest spaceports on the North American east coast without armed HC security. No one had forgotten how many thousands of Wertyngeris had either died or were put in hibernacula for years, or how many of the frozen had been thawed and eaten. No one had forgotten how many HC soldiers died in the war. Yes, the war had ended with a palace coup, led by the Zoki crown princess. She had immediately offered reparations for the atrocities on Wertynger, and they had been paid, and were still being paid.

Edvard watched as the reptilian Zoki, all dressed in white, with ashes on their forehead, walked silently through the spaceport, staring at the floor. According to the treaty ending the war, the Zoki had to publicly atone for eating sentient life. The crown princess, now empress, had suggested fifty Terran standard years of shame and public penance. She had acknowledged that not all Zoki had known or participated, but the government she had overthrown had known, and it had had wide popular support.

Never again.

Someone spat on the floor as the Zoki and their guards walked past. He wondered if fifty Terran standard would be enough penance.

Edvard stepped in front of a ticket kiosk beside a family which was clearly emigrating. Everybody seemed to be carrying some sort of luggage, the three kids, the two dads. He inserted his passport and Universal ID into the kiosk, and selected shuttle to the station, star service to Wertynger, Next available ship, leaving Union Station. An option for stasis for the three week trip in hyperspace? Maybe after week one. Micro-cabin, no, too claustrophobic. Single double, Family? Single. It felt like forever for funds verification. Ding! Transaction complete. Please proceed to Concourse B, Gate 29, shuttle already boarding. Proceed to gate, please have ID and passport ready.

He had done it.

Author Bio

Warren Rochelle

Warren Rochelle lives in Crozet, Virginia, with his husband, and their little dog, Gypsy. He retired from teaching English and Creative Writing at the University of Mary Washington in 2020. His short fiction and poetry have been published in such journals and anthologies as Icarus, North Carolina Literary Review, Forbidden Lines, Aboriginal Science Fiction, Collective Fallout, Queer Fish 2, Empty Oaks, Quantum Fairy Tales, Migration, Clarity, Innovation, The Silver Gryphon, Jaelle Her Book, Colonnades, and Graffiti, as well as the Asheville Poetry Review, GW Magazine, Crucible, The Charlotte Poetry Review, and Romance and Beyond. His short story, “The Golden Boy,” was a finalist for the 2004 Spectrum Award for Short Fiction.

Rochelle is the author of five novels, including The Wild Boy (2001), Harvest of Changelings (2007), and The Called (2010), all published by Golden Gryphon Press. The Werewolf and His Boy, originally published by Samhain Publishing in September 2016, was re-released from JMS Books in August 2020. In Light’s Shadow: A Fairy Tale was published by JMS Books in 2022.

Author Website: https://kingdomofjoria.com/

Author Facebook (Personal): https://www.facebook.com/warren.rochelle

Author Facebook (Author Page): https://www.facebook.com/warrenwriter/

Author Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/38355.Warren_Rochelle

Author Liminal Fiction (LimFic.com): https://www.limfic.com/mbm-book-author/warren-rochelle/

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The Great Forest and Other Love Stories

When did I know I wanted to write? I first  read The Chronicles of Narnia in the third grade, and I fell in love. I decided then and there I wanted to be a writer. I wrote an awful rip-off of  Narnia in homage, but with a High Queen, not a High King. Somewhere in her realm was the Plain of Fire and the Plain of the Moon, so named for the color of the grass growing on each plain. Instead of centaurs, I had bucentaurs, who have bovine  (or ox bodies). To be honest, I think I discovered this chimera sometime after third grade.  Mercifully, more specific memories are hazy and the manuscript (in a three-ring binder) has been lost.

When did I know I was good at writing? This came slowly over the years, most often in affirmations from teachers, from junior high through college. I won an Honorable Mention in a Scholastic contest.  in the 9th Grade for a poem about a green-skinned boy, half-human, half-alien, who couldn’t handle his telepathic powers. I got published in my high school literary magazine, and again in my undergraduate literary magazine.  All of these helped me to know that I could write well.

My first publication was a short story, “Her Hands Curved Around the Cup,” in the now-defunct Graffiti, in Fall 1978. This melancholy tale is about an old, lonely woman grieving for her long-dead husband, and haunted by a childhood tragedy. She marks the days of the week by drinking different teas. She reads poetry.  She is so very sad and lonely. It was a very morose tale. 

What do I when I get writer’s block? To be honest, I can’t say I have, at least in the way I think this question is asking: not being able to write at all. Instead, for me, what happens sometimes is that I get this amazing idea, and I set down and write and write, pages, chapters even. Then, it fizzles out, and the story seems to have died, or gone to sleep.  Or maybe, it’s just not the right time for the story to be told.  What I do then is let it sit for a while—usually a good long while, or leave it be. I sometimes go back to the story—a long later—and try to resuscitate the tale. This usually works, but the revived story is often a lot of different. In this collection, the title story grew out of an alternate history I started when I was in junior high, after reading MacKinlay Kantor’s 1961 short novel, If the South Had Won the Civil War. For those who might interested, the Confederacy survives for about a hundred years before collapsing in the Black Revolution. So far, the history goes from the 1860s to 2562. Three stories have emerged, including “The Great Forest,” which is set on a planet with sentient trees, settled around 2400. I tried a story set on this planet twice.  Eventually, I found who the story was about and what was at stake for them.

How long have I been writing? In one sense, most of my life. My mother, who was a secretary in the Department of Sociology at Duke University, would bring home used typing paper for us to draw on. My brothers and I scribbled, drew, wrote, played games. Eventually, I drew stories, creating maps and royal dynasties. But stories written on paper? I think they started in 4th grade, which is about sixty-odd years ago.

What do I do when a brilliant idea comes along at a bad time? Write it down, if possible, in quick notes, hopefully enough to remind me of just what the idea was. Unfortunately, if this happens at night when I have a particularly vivid dream, my notes are too often illegible.

What books are currently on my bedside table (a stool by the bedroom door). This stack changes from time to time. At the time I wrote this, the books were:

The Deviant’s War: The Homosexual vs. The United States, by Eric Cervini

Spider Woman’s Daughter,  by Ann Hillerman

Night Watch, by Jayne Ann Phillips

What am I working on now?  I am writing “In Love’s Light,” a short story for a forthcoming anthology of JMS Books authors,, Love is Free, forthcoming from JMS Books in January 2025.

BLOG TOUR: CHAOS KIN By Sheryl R. Hayes (A Jordan Abbey Novel Book 3)

On By authoranthonyavinablogIn Blog Tours, Book Events, Book PromotionLeave a comment

I always seen to get a question when people find out that I’m an author. “How did you start writing?”

You would think that is an easy question to answer.  I don’t know about other authors, but I have a few different answers. Which one I give depends on what is meant by ‘start writing.’

I’ve always told myself stories.  Some were about characters I saw on different characters on TV shows and books interacting.  Sometimes they were about characters I made up.  The earliest I vaguely remember had to do with me traveling to Narnia after I read C. S. Lewis when I would have been around ten years old. But I never actually wrote those stories down, so don’t have the details of my adventures with Aslan, Lucy, Edmund, Susan and Peter.

Oddly enough, I never channeled that into my English classes in school beyond the necessary creative writing assignments.  Probably because at that time I had an interest in fantasy and science fiction, and I kept hearing from teachers that no woman who wanted to write seriously would write in those genres.  So giving into a misogyny that I didn’t comprehend at the time, I kept those stories to myself as daydreams.

Then two things happened in the early nineties. I discovered the television show The X-Files, and I also got online.  My sister mentioned that she had seen an X-Files forum on America Online (yes, I was one of those people).  From there,  discovered online fandom in general, and fan fiction specifically.  I finally had a name to put to what I had been doing for years. So now my stories had a place to be shared.

Around the same time I also found an anthology titled originally enough Werewolves.  It was the first time I had come across stories about werewolves outside of the horror genre.  Mind you, the book did have short horror stories, but there was also humor and romance focused stories.  And it got me thinking.

The focus of my fanfic stories shifted from trying to stay relatively close to the canon of the series to an original creation.  A friend and I had both were complaining about being stuck on stories we were writing.  So we decided that we’d both create a character, toss them together, and see what happened.  What happened was a 200 chapter, meandering paranormal romance that pulled in aspects of some tv shows, but had mostly original characters.  I learned about world-building, creating canon for your stories universe, sticking to that canon as you go forward in the story, and how to create the structure to hang your plot on.  It still exists on our hard drives, and occasionally I go back to peek at it.  While it was an incredible effort, it was ultimately unpublishable.  

My friend and I are still writing, by the way, but we’ve shifted our focus.  We are currently working on a paranormal romance series.  The first book in it will be released later this year.

At this point, I had been going to conventions and met authors both in person and online.  It was at one of these conventions I had the seed of the idea for what would become the Jordan Abbey series. Using all I had learned over the years of writing as a hobby, and learning a lot more, I completed Chaos Wolf.  In the middle of writing what I thought would be a standalone book, I realized that there were a lot more stories in this universe that I could tell.

Chaos Kin is the most recent of these stories. I have a few more misadventures of Jordan Abbey that I hope to share, as well as a few more story seeds that I want to make bloom.

New Release: Chaos Kin - Sheryl R. Hayes

Sheryl R. Hayes has a new MMF paranormal book out (bi, poly), Jordan Abbey book 3: Chaos Kin.

In the town of Rancho Robles, can one werewolf protect the Children of the Wolf and the Bat? Chaos Wolf Jordan Abbey has made friends among the Black Oak Pack even though she refuses to join it. The same can’t be said of the vampires, but her life has taken a turn for the better.

That is until Enya Blevins, sister to the werewolf who turned Jordan, arrives in Rancho Robles. She wants to know who killed her baby brother and is less than impressed by the Chaos Wolf. Enya wants revenge, starting with Jordan and ending with the vampires infesting the area.

Jordan is prepared to flee, but a technicality makes her an Alpha Werewolf. Now she must stand her ground to protect her nascent Pack and those she loves.

The past has come back to bite her. Does she have the fangs to bite back?

About the Series:

In the Northern California town of Rancho Robles where the Children of the Wolf and the Bat share an uneasy coexistence. One werewolf woman threatens to upset that balance.

Universal Buy Link | Liminal Fiction | Goodreads

Giveaway:

Sheryl is giving away a $20 Amazon gift card with this tour:

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Excerpt:

MEME 2 - Chaos Kin

“You ready for this?”

Jordan nodded. She and Montgomery had pulled over three blocks from the entrance to the Black Oak Pack’s compound for one last quick discussion. “Got the Uber request programmed in to meet me here. If things go wrong, we run.”

Montgomery shook his head, hand tightening on the steering wheel. “No, you run.”

Jordan’s expression tightened. “I’m not leaving you.”

“Jordan, you have to run without me.” Montgomery stared at her until she looked away. “I know you’re afraid of what will happen to me. But they won’t harm me. To do so is to risk open conflict with Elder Marcus.”

Jordan bit back her response. Alpha Shane may have a vested interest in living in peace with the Elder of the Conclave of Rancho Robles. That didn’t mean that these strangers who came from far away would have the same desires. Add to the fact things were personal between Montgomery and Enya, and the odds were that they wouldn’t be thinking about insulting the vampires in the area.

She sighed and recited the plans they had come up with the night before. “If things go south, I run back to the Cataluña and wait for you or Thorn. If after twenty-four hours, neither of you show up, I ask Elder Marcus for help getting someplace safe. You and Thorn will join me once you’re able to.”

Montgomery smiled and nodded. She noticed a tear in the corner of his eye. “Hopefully, it won’t come to that.”

She didn’t bother to say that he didn’t sound like he believed it any more than she did.

Jordan closed her eyes but lifted her head as she and Montgomery drove up to the gate of the Black Oak Pack’s home territory. As if by mutual consent, neither of them spoke as Sentry Rodriguez waved them through. There was no point hashing out their plans further. In the next ten minutes, they would know if she would have to run and hide with her tail between her legs.

The silence continued as they walked to the front door. Angela opened the door before she had a chance to knock on it, focusing on Jordan instead of Montgomery. The blonde blond werewolf arched her eyebrows in a question.

Jordan shook her head ever so slightly.

Angela’s lips pressed together as she narrowed her eyes. Jordan could hear her thoughts. Why am I not surprised? Instead, she gestured them inside. “This way please.”

The entire pack was gathered, clumping together in little knots around the room. Pamela met her eyes and then turned her attention back to her conversation with Tran. Alpha Shane, Envoy Blevins, and Talespeakers stood by the cold, dark fireplace. Angela took her place with the rest of the younger people in the room. The tension in the room ramped up as the four highest-ranking werewolves focused on her and Montgomery. Alpha Shane dipped his head in greeting. “Chaos Wolf Abbey, Mr. Cooper.”

Enya was far less formal, not giving Montgomery and Jordan a chance to greet them. She assessed Jordan, head lifted so she stared down her nose. “Were you able to retrieve the fangs?”

Jordan drew herself up to stand straight and as tall as she could. “No.”

Everyone around her tensed, which she expected.

“This isn’t her fault,” Montgomery said. “She didn’t know—”

“Silence, vampire!” Enya snapped. Her focus was on Jordan as she paced forward. “It’s not completely your fault. I blame you as much as I blame him.” She nodded towards Alpha Shane. “And him.” Her gaze turned towards Montgomery.

Alpha Shane’s shoulders hunched. He shifted his weight but said nothing.

She felt her ears flatten, an impressive trick as she was in her human form. Jordan opened her mouth, trying to force her words through her snarl. To her surprise, Billy, Juan, Tran, and Maria surrounded her and Montgomery with Angela taking the point in front of Jordan. Jordan couldn’t see her expression, but the young woman stood stiffly, legs apart, and fists braced on her waist.

Confused, Jordan looked at Billy on her right, eyes wide. “What’s going on?” she whispered as Montgomery put a hand on her shoulder.

“We’re saving your skin,” he said. “Now, shush.”

Angela looked at Enya. “Jordan shouldn’t be treated as a chaos wolf. She is—”

“Angela!” Alpha Shane barked, glaring at her.

His daughter didn’t stop speaking. “—An alpha wolf in her own right.”

Author Bio

Sheryl R. Hayes can be found untangling plot threads or the yarn her three cats have been playing with. She is equally likely to be shooing one of them off the keyboard as she is working on her novels and short stories. In addition to writing, she is a cosplayer focusing on knit and crochet costumes.

Author Website: https://www.sherylrhayes.com

Author Facebook (Personal): https://www.facebook.com/sherylreneehayes

Author Facebook (Author Page): https://www.facebook.com/sherylrhayes

Author Mastodon: https://mastodon.online/@sherylrhayes

Author Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/sherylrhayes/

Author Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/16468770.Sheryl_R_Hayes

Author Liminal Fiction (LimFic.com): https://www.limfic.com/mbm-book-author/sheryl-r-hayes/

Author Amazon: http://amazon.com/author/sherylrhayes

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BLOG TOUR: A Unique Request (Basque Trilogy Book One) by Mickie B. Ashling

On By authoranthonyavinablogIn Blog Tours, Book EventsLeave a comment
A Unique Request - Micke B. Ashling

Mickie B. Ashling has a new MMM contemporary romance out, The Basque Trilogy book one: A Unique Request. And there’s a giveaway!

Mickie has reduced the price of A Unique Request to $1.99 while the book is on tour.

Seven years have passed since Paul Alcott and Mick Henley separated, but hearing the familiar voice reinforces what Paul has known all along―he still loves Mick and wants him back.

Hope flares upon receiving a dinner invitation, but his dream evaporates when he learns that Mick is in a relationship with Basque jai alai player, Tono Garat.

To make matters worse, Paul’s services as a book editor are solicited to help Tono through the final revision of a love story he’s written.

Paul refuses until Mick reveals he’s been diagnosed with a fatal disease, and the novel is Tono’s only means of coping.

Paul and Tono resent each other, but they can’t deny the strong sexual attraction between them. Will they overcome their differences to provide the loving support necessary to sustain the man they love or will their animosity destroy Mick’s final days?

Warnings: Second chances, bittersweet, fatal disease

Get It On Amazon | QueeRomance Ink | Goodreads

Giveaway

Mickie is giving away a $20 Amazon gift card with this tour:

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Excerpt

A Unique request meme - Mickie B. Ashling/

A Unique Request

Mickie B. Ashling © 2024

All Rights Reserved

Paul stood outside the door, debating his decision to show up. He had a bottle of red wine in one hand and a bunch of colorful wildflowers in the other. He’d given in to a moment of sentimental weakness, and now he wondered what the hell he was doing. He turned to leave when the door was yanked open by a fractious brunet with a scowl on his face. “¿Sí?”

“Hi. I’m Paul Alcott.”

The stranger scowled and scrutinized him from the top of his shining head down his designer-clad body.

Paul was unfazed. He was just as curious about the man who’d replaced him in Mick’s life. He inspected him like he would any rival, noting the chestnut-colored hair curling around his neckline. His upper body was hidden behind a loose T-shirt, but the corded muscles of his forearms were a clear indication of what was underneath. He was striking, no doubt about it. The heated gaze was bad enough, but it was his luscious mouth that sent Paul’s mind straight to the gutter. He was shocked by his body’s quick response to this stranger, despite the obvious antagonism. He brought his hand down, covering the evidence of his growing interest with the flowers.

The Spaniard blinked and rewarded Paul with a tentative smile. “I’m Tono Garat,” he announced in a heavily accented voice.

“Nice to meet you.” Paul nodded. “Is Mick around?”

“Yes, of course. Come in, please.”

Tono spun around, and Paul zeroed in on the rounded ass covered in tight white shorts. No garter lines meant he was naked underneath, and Paul couldn’t help but notice.

“Paul!” Mick called out, rushing forward and hugging Paul tightly. “God, it’s been too long.”

“I know,” Paul said, falling under Mick’s spell within seconds. It had always been so good between them, and despite the years and the distance, the sentiment remained the same. “You’re still as gorgeous as ever.

“Oh, stop. You always were good for my ego.”

“The years have been kind to you, my friend,” Paul continued, taking in every part of Mick. He did look great, trim and fit, clean-shaven. His hair was a little longer than Paul remembered, but the dark curls framed Mick’s tanned face, making the violet-tinged eyes pop.

“You don’t look half-bad either.” Mick’s voice shifted, and the words came out like a soft caress. He toyed with a lock of Paul’s silky hair, curling it around his finger. “When did you let your hair grow?”

“After my father died; no more memos about looking professional.” Paul smirked as he recalled Paul Senior’s edicts.

“Shall I take the bottle?” Tono interrupted, looking uncomfortable. Perhaps he was aware of their long history, but seeing the chemistry was a different matter altogether.

“Sure,” Paul replied, handing over the wine.

“I made a pitcher of sangria. Would you like a glass?” Tono asked, never taking his eyes off Paul.

“Sounds good. I’m assuming it’s authentic.”

“I made it from scratch,” Tono huffed.

“Come on,” Mick stepped in, trying to diffuse the situation. He took Paul by the arm and led him out to the tiny patio that had a wrought iron table for four and several wooden planters filled with assorted vegetables. The tomatoes were almost ripe and hanging from branches held up with green sticks. The Weber grill was off to one side―a tribute to summer and warm evenings.

“This is nice, Mick. I had no idea this was out here.”

“Not too many people do. I guess the owners were into gardening, so I benefit. It’s what attracted me to this unit in the first place.”

Paul sat down and stretched out, loving the sight of Mick after so long. “So, what have you been up to?”

“Living La Vida Loca.” Mick smiled. “I’ve been writing, of course, but mostly enjoying my life.”

“Sounds great. Are you still working on your sequel?”

“Yes, as well as something new.”

“Oh?”

“I’m helping Tono with his book.”

Paul gave Tono a frosty look. “You’re a writer?”

“I’m not,” Tono replied, placing a large wineglass with chunks of fruit in front of Paul. “I’m a professional jai alai player, but I’ve written a romance, based on my relationship with Mick.”

“A romance?” Paul turned to Mick for the answer. “Why?”

“Because I’m dying.”

Author Bio

Mickie B. Ashling

MICKIE B. ASHLING is the pseudonym of a multi-published author who resides in a suburb outside Chicago. She is a product of her upbringing in various cultures, having lived in Japan, the Philippines, Spain, and the Middle East. Fluent in three languages, she’s a citizen of the world and an interesting mixture of East and West. A little bit of this and a lot of that have brought a unique touch to her literary voice she could never learn from textbooks.

Since 2009, Mickie has written several dozen novels in the LGBTQ+ genre—which have been translated into French, Italian, Spanish, and German. Audiobooks and foreign translations are available at Amazon and Audible. Her award-winning novels have been described as “gut- wrenching, daring, and thought-provoking.”

Author Website: https://www.mickieashling.com

Author Facebook (Personal): https://www.facebook.com/mickie.ashling

Author Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/mickieashling

Author Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/217416171-a-unique-request

Author QueeRomance Ink: https://www.queeromanceink.com/mbm-book-author/mickie-b-ashling/

Author Amazon: https://www.amazon.com/stores/Mickie-B.-Ashling/author/B004QSCN3E

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OWI Tours COVER REVEAL: Chaos Kin by Sheryl R. Hayes

On By authoranthonyavinablogIn Blog Tours, book cover reveal, Book Events, Book PromotionLeave a comment
New Release: Chaos Kin - Sheryl R. Hayes

Sheryl R. Hayes has a new MMF paranormal book coming out (bi, poly), Jordan Abbey book 3, and we have the cover reveal: Chaos Kin.

In the town of Rancho Robles, can one werewolf protect the Children of the Wolf and the Bat? Chaos Wolf Jordan Abbey has made friends among the Black Oak Pack even though she refuses to join it. The same can’t be said of the vampires, but her life has taken a turn for the better.

That is until Enya Blevins, sister to the werewolf who turned Jordan, arrives in Rancho Robles. She wants to know who killed her baby brother and is less than impressed by the Chaos Wolf. Enya wants revenge, starting with Jordan and ending with the vampires infesting the area.

Jordan is prepared to flee, but a technicality makes her an Alpha Werewolf. Now she must stand her ground to protect her nascent Pack and those she loves.

The past has come back to bite her. Does she have the fangs to bite back?

About the Series:

In the Northern California town of Rancho Robles where the Children of the Wolf and the Bat share an uneasy coexistence. One werewolf woman threatens to upset that balance.

Universal Buy Link | Liminal Fiction | Goodreads

Author Bio

Sheryl R. Hayes can be found untangling plot threads or the yarn her three cats have been playing with. She is equally likely to be shooing one of them off the keyboard as she is working on her novels and short stories. In addition to writing, she is a cosplayer focusing on knit and crochet costumes.

Author Website: https://www.sherylrhayes.com

Author Facebook (Personal): https://www.facebook.com/sherylreneehayes

Author Facebook (Author Page): https://www.facebook.com/sherylrhayes

Author Mastodon: https://mastodon.online/@sherylrhayes

Author Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/sherylrhayes/

Author Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/16468770.Sheryl_R_Hayes

Author Liminal Fiction (LimFic.com): https://www.limfic.com/mbm-book-author/sheryl-r-hayes/

Author Amazon: http://amazon.com/author/sherylrhayes

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Blog Tour: Golden Hills Haunting by M.D. Neu + Guest Blog Post

On By authoranthonyavinablogIn Blog Tours, Book Events, Guest PostLeave a comment

Golden Hills Haunting – Do you believe in ghosts?

Do you believe in ghosts?

Let’s talk about ghosts, demons and hauntings. When I started working on Golden Hills Haunting, I decided I wanted to approach the novel from a place of knowledge and understanding. Before I put pen to paper I reached out to the Bay Area Ghost Hunters and to the Diocese of San Jose hoping someone would sit down and talk about the paranormal. I wasn’t disappointed. I had the pleasure of meeting with Loyd Auerbach, Dir. of the Office of Paranormal Investigation, President of Forever Family Foundation and I also landed two different interviews with both a local Catholic Priest and a retired Catholic Exorcist. Following those interviews, I also got in contact with several local community members who shared their personal stories with me. To say I got an education on the subject was an understatement.

As I explored the topic, I learned about the three different types of ghosts and ghost hauntings. Further, I discovered how different researches explore the supernatural. With Mr. Auerbach, he is a firm believer that there are no such thing as evil intent, but there are evil acts. This was a contrast to what the Catholic Priest and the Catholic Exorcist told me (since they believe in demons and demonic possession). However, there was common ground for both groups. Hauntings can be addressed and people and places can be cleansed, which I was relieved to learn, since a lot of what they shared with me was frightening. Even though both groups approached the paranormal differently (one scientific and one spiritually) I was surprised to learn how much they had in common, especially when it came to how they investigated cases. Both teams do extensive interviews and require as much information (proof) as the parties can provide (witnesses, photos, videos, medical reports, first-hand accounts, etc.). Also, each group wants to help people and both teams take their work seriously, and neither the Priest and Exorcist nor Mr. Auerbach will turn people away who are in need of assistance. Whether they can help afflicted is a different story. Also, and this was very important to learn, neither group charges a fee to help people.

If you are ever in a situation where you need this kind of help, you should never be charged for services.

When it comes to the different types of hauntings, I found there are three different types (there is a fourth type that I will get into later). The three main types are; Apparitions (they can be interactive and self-aware), Hauntings (imprints of a past event, like a movie or song playing on repeat), and Poltergeist (this is a living agent with psychokinesis abilities). The fourth type are your demons/evil spirits, and these are not to be messed with. There are things that I discovered about demons and possession that were quite upsetting and I’m still uncomfortable discussing (not because I’m worried about anything bad happening to me but because I learned how sick and twisted people are and what they will do to conjure such beings). With anything demonic or evil, I learned that these creatures have to be invited and even if they are removed, they can easily be invited back, and return. That’s why demons are difficult to get rid of and can take months, if not years, to remove, this is why people suffering from demonic attacks need to keep up with what the priest or exorcist instruct.

Two other items I found interesting about demons is, one, they have territories that they cover, which I thought was strange. The second thing I learned was demons are litigious, which plays into why they can be such a challenge to remove.

Going back to my opening question, do you believe in ghosts? For me, the answer is yes. Especially after talking with the people I spoke with. What we read in books and watch on TV, the internet and in movies is entertainment and should be taken with a grain of salt. When it comes to the real paranormal, there is so much more to ghosts and demons than the regular person will ever understand.

With respect to my novel Golden Hills Haunting, this book is a work of fiction, based on actual accounts from my various sources (some named some not). However, overall, this is a story about family, love, and community. Originally, I wanted to tell a fun ghost story similar to the 1982 movie Poltergeist. In the end, the novel grew into something more, shining a light on a subject that is shrouded in mystery. What ended up published is a story that is based on as much fact and realism as I could include. I wanted to craft a story that addresses the misconceptions and takes on the subject matter in an open and honest manner, while still being fun and, at times, sexy and naughty. I hope readers will enjoy the story and appreciate all the work that went into creating the novel and the characters that inhabit the book.

Golden Hills Haunting - M.D. Neu

M.D. Neu has a new gay horror book out: Golden Hills Haunting.

After their daughter was bullied at school, Kyle and Alejandro decided to make a fresh start and move into a beautiful new cul-de-sac development. As they take up residence, the family enjoys seeing the community come to life. But when lights flicker, shadows lurk, and small objects disappear, they begin to doubt their sanity.

When Alejandro and many of their neighbors are struck down by a strange sickness that defies explanation, the family starts to question their recent life change. Feeling trapped they speak with their new neighbors, learning they aren’t alone in the haunted neighborhood.

Who do you turn to when the authorities can’t offer any assistance or protection? How do you fight against a sinister force that is older than time? Can Kyle, Alejandro and the rest of the occupants of Golden Hills Court survive or will this nightmarish ordeal destroy them?

Universal Buy Link

Excerpt

Golden Hills Haunting meme

(from Chapter One)

When I decided to sit down and write our story, I wasn’t sure where to open, and I’m still not. Since things didn’t begin all bad, they kicked off slowly. Which makes finding the starting point difficult. I guess when we questioned what was happening in our neighborhood was the day Alejandro came home not feeling well. We’d been in our house for about four months, everything had been unpacked, and our new place felt like a home. Even Chloe, our daughter, had managed to make friends in the neighborhood. We’d had family and friends over and even managed to pull off a big party: our housewarming, which thinking back now should have been our first warning given what happened that day. I digress. Alejandro rarely came home from the office sick, but on that day, I wasn’t sure I’d ever seen him so ill.

We were lucky, of course. He was unwell, but he wasn’t as bad as some of our neighbors. By the time we got Alejandro settled in bed to rest, three different ambulances had shown up on our cul-de-sac dealing with numerous medical emergencies at various houses. By that evening, almost every home in our circle had been visited by emergency services. The media didn’t catch wind of the story for a few more days, not until the EPA showed up. Hell, everyone arrived, PG&E, San Jose Water, representatives from the housing development, the County, basically every government organization you might throw a rock at. The weeks that followed were only the beginning of our nightmare.

This new house had been our dream, one we had been working toward for years and we needed the change desperately. Our home was the second finished on our street and we were the second family to move in. Yes, we were going to be living around construction for a couple more weeks, but for this house, the daily construction would be worth it, especially at the price we paid. In this valley, these homes were an outright steal. Chloe, in theory, would be at school during the day or off with friends or at therapy. Alejandro and I both worked so we wouldn’t be around during the day when a majority of the construction commenced. Well, except for me. I still worked from home three days a week, but I could manage the noise; I had my music. The only real problem: the traffic as people were moving in and construction teams came and went. We imagined we’d be able to deal with the building and the neighborhood, but we were wrong.

The cause of the mystery illnesses. What a joke. It wasn’t a gas leak or anything in the water or the dirt. We were all looking for the wrong things. At the time, no one ever contemplated we were under attack from the supernatural or paranormal or whatever you want to call a bunch of pissed off spirits and a horde of Demons thrown in for good measure.

But is that when everything commenced?

I don’t think so.

We should have known something was off when we went to the sales center, about three months prior to our moving in. Let me start from before we moved in and go from there. Knowing how things began will help paint a full picture.

Our new neighborhood, our new home, was an infill neighborhood, one of those small groupings of houses that are built on a subdivided parcel of land. They do that a lot in San Jose, with housing being an issue. It’s funny, there wasn’t even a model home to look at. There was a portable sales office with floor plans and finishes to pick from. How we got the house didn’t matter to us; getting the house was what mattered. Chloe needed the change, especially with all she had been dealing with. So, when I found out they were building this infill community, I told Alejandro and we understood we would have to move promptly. After seeing the information, the next day we called out from work and drove to Evergreen to check the location.

The area had everything we were looking for. Chloe could walk to the school, Chaboya Middle School, and she would have to make new friends, but we understood she’d manage. Chloe was social despite the trouble she had when we first got her. There were parks and a creek, plus several trails for hiking and biking. Down Fowler Road at Ruby Avenue a quaint Evergreen Village had been established with shops, restaurants, and larger stores. We couldn’t have asked for a better neighborhood.

If we only knew.

Author Bio

M.D. Neu

M.D. Neu is an international award-winning inclusive queer Fiction Writer with a love for writing and travel. Living in the heart of Silicon Valley (San Jose, California) and growing up around technology, he’s always been fascinated with what could be. Specifically drawn to Science Fiction and Paranormal television and novels, M.D. Neu was inspired by the great Gene Roddenberry, George Lucas, Stephen King, Alice Walker, Alfred Hitchcock, Harvey Fierstein, Anne Rice, and Kim Stanley Robinson. An odd combination, but one that has influenced his writing.

Growing up in an accepting family as a gay man he always wondered why there were never stories reflecting who he was. Constantly surrounded by characters that only reflected heterosexual society, M.D. Neu decided he wanted to change that. So, he took to writing, wanting to tell good stories that reflected our diverse world.

When M.D. Neu isn’t writing, he works for a non-profit and travels with his biggest supporter and his harshest critic, Eric his husband of twenty plus years.

Website: http://www.mdneu.com/

Twitter: https://twitter.com/Writer_MDNeu

Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/mdneuauthor

Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/authormdneu/

BookBub: https://www.bookbub.com/profile/m-d-neu

Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/user/show/66488958-md

Youtube: https://www.youtube.com/@AuthorMDNeu

QueerRomance Ink: https://www.queeromanceink.com/mbm-book-author/m-d-neu/

Liminal Fiction: https://www.limfic.com/mbm-book-author/m-d-neu/

Amazon: https://www.amazon.com/M-D-Neu/e/B076FK1S14

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My Year of Casual Acquaintances (The South Bay Series Book 1) by Ruth F. Stevens Review

On By authoranthonyavinablogIn Blog Tours, Book Events, reviewsLeave a comment

I received a free copy of this book in exchange for a fair and honest review. All opinions are my own. 

A woman hurt by the man she loved seeks to reinvent herself through casual acquaintances, but finds a man who wants more from her than she is willing to give as she struggles to find within herself the strength to open her heart up again in author Ruth F. Stevens’s “My Year of Casual Acquaintances”, the first book in The South Bay Series.

The Synopsis

When Mar Meyer’s husband divorces her for another woman, she reacts by abandoning everything in her past: her home, her friends, even her name. Though it’s not easy to start over, Mar is young-looking, fit, and ready for new adventures – as long as she can keep things casual.

With each passing month, Mar goes from one acquaintance to the next. Among them: a fellow gym member down on her luck, a flirty hip-hop instructor, a bossy but comical consultant, a kindly older gentleman . . . and Charlie, a handsome best-selling novelist who wants more from Mar than she’s able to give. She learns something new from each encounter. But can she change enough to open herself up to happiness and true connection?

Surrounded by an ensemble of quirky, endearing characters, Mar follows a tortuous and unpredictable path as she navigates the first year of her reinvented life. My Year of Casual Acquaintances is packed with laugh-out-loud moments mingled with scenes of loneliness and self-doubt that will put a lump in your throat.

The Review

What a compelling and engaging read. The author expertly weaves together a story that is equal parts women’s fiction and character-driven narrative. The rich dialogue and atmosphere the author gave this story gave the reader a sense of familiarity and relatability to the narrative and the characters. The tension and tone the author establishes for the protagonist are great motivators for the character’s arc overall, something readers will instantly connect with.

The heart of this narrative rests with the heartfelt themes and the strong character dynamics at play here. The heartbreak of losing a relationship, especially in the way that Mar has, plays well into the character’s sense of reinvention and the themes of friendship, love, and identity, playing off one another often in life. The balance that the author finds in Mar rediscovering who she is and the ability for her to open her heart to new possibilities in the face of betrayal makes this such a tremendous read.

The Verdict

Thoughtful, engaging, and memorable author Ruth F. Stevens’s “My Year of Casual Acquaintances” is a must-read novel. The character-driven and character-focused story helps elevate the overall narrative, and the slight inclusion of romance allows the reader to relate and root for this protagonist as her journey progresses slowly. If you haven’t yet, be sure to grab your copy today!

Rating: 10/10 

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About the Author

Ruth F. Stevens likes to create stories that will make readers laugh and cry. A former public relations executive in New York and Los Angeles, she is a produced playwright and author of a previous novel, Stage Seven, which was a featured selection of national online book club and Alzheimer’s awareness organizations. Ruth is a proud member of the Women’s Fiction Writers Association and the Dramatists Guild of America and serves as a volunteer and acquisitions editor for AlzAuthors.

Ruth lives in Torrance, California with her husband. In her spare time, she enjoys travel, hiking, hip-hop and fitness classes, yoga, Broadway musicals, wine tasting, leading a book club, and visiting her grandsons in NYC. Visit Ruth at https://ruthfstevens.com and consider signing up for her monthly newsletter to receive publishing updates, book reviews, and special offers.

Website: https://ruthfstevens.com/

Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/ruthfstevensauthor/

Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/rfsauthor

Bookbub: https://www.bookbub.com/authors/ruth-f-stevens

Purchase a copy of My Year of Casual Acquaintances on Amazon, Barnes and Noble, and Bookshop.org. Add to your GoodReads reading list.

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Blog Tour Calendar

September 23rd @ The Muffin

Join us at The Muffin when we celebrate the launch of Ruth F. Stevens’ book My Year of Casual Acquaintances. We’ll be interviewing the author and giving away a copy of her book.

https://muffin.wow-womenonwriting.com

September 24th @ The Faerie Review

Join by Lily’s blog for a spotlight of My Year of Casual Acquaintances.

https://www.thefaeriereview.com

September 25th @ Words by Webb

Visit Jodi’s blog for her review of My Year of Casual Acquaintances.

https://www.jodiwebbwriter.com/blog

September 27th @ Lisa Haselton’s Reviews and Interviews

Stop by Lisa’s blog for an interview with author Ruth F. Stevens.

https://lisahaselton.com/blog

September 29th @ Book Review From an Avid Reader

Visit Joan’s blog for her review of My Year of Casual Acquaintances.

https://bookwomanjoan.blogspot.com

September 30th @ Just Katherine

Visit Katherine’s blog for an excerpt from My Year of Casual Acquaintances.

https://justkatherineblog.wordpress.com

September 30th @ Choices

Visit Madeline’s blog for a guest post about how casual acquaintances play an important role in our life.

http://www.madelinesharples.com/

October 1st @ A Storybook World

Visit Deirdra’s blog for a spotlight of My Year of Casual Acquaintances.

https://www.astorybookworld.com

October 2nd @ Create Write Now

Visit Mari’s blog for a guest post by Ruth F. Stevens about why fifty is nifty for a fictional character.

https://www.createwritenow.com/journal-writing-blog

October 3rd @ Knotty Needle

Visit Judy’s blog for a review of My Year of Casual Acquaintances.

http://knottyneedle.blogspot.com/

October 5th @ What Is That Book About

Stop by Michelle’s blog for an excerpt from My Year of Casual Acquaintances.

https://www.whatisthatbookabout.com

October 6th @ Storey Book Reviews

Visit Leslie’s blog for a review of My Year of Casual Acquaintances.

https://storeybookreviews.com

October 7th @ Life According to Jamie

Stop by Jamie’s blog for a review of My Year of Casual Acquaintances.

https://lifeaccordingtojamie.com

October 9th @ Beverley A. Baird’s blog

Stop by Beverley’s blog for her review of My Year of Casual Acquaintances

https://beverleyabaird.wordpress.com

October 11th @ Beverley A. Baird’s blog 

Visit Beverley’s blog for an excerpt from My Year of Casual Acquaintances.

https://beverleyabaird.wordpress.com

October 12th @ Author Anthony Avina’s blog

Join Anthony for his review of My Year of Casual Acquaintances.

https://authoranthonyavinablog.wordpress.com/category/blog-tours

October 13th @ Rosh’s Reviews

Visit Roshni’s blog for her review of My Year of Casual Acquaintances.

https://roshreviews.blogspot.com

October 15th @ Frugal Freelancer

Visit Sara Trimble’s blog for a guest post by the author about whether AI is a friend or a foe.

https://saratrimble.wordpress.com

October 18th @ A Wonderful World of Books

Visit Joy’s blog for an excerpt from My Year of Casual Acquaintances.

https://awonderfulworldofwordsa.blogspot.com

October 20th @ Chapter Break

Visit Julie’s blog for an interview with author, Ruth F. Stevens.

https://chapterbreak.net

October 23rd @ Boys’ Mom Reads!

Visit Karen’s blog for a review of My Year of Casual Acquaintances.

https://karensiddall.wordpress.com

October 26th @ Boots, Shoes, and Fashion

Visit Linda’s blog for an interview with author Ruth F. Stevens.

http://bootsshoesandfashion.com/

Whiskey and Warfare by EM Hamill Blog Tour OWI Blog Tours

On By authoranthonyavinablogIn Blog Tours, Book EventsLeave a comment
Whiskey and Warfare -E.M. Hamill

E.M. Hamill has a new queer women-led space western out (pan, lesbian, aro/ace), Team Huntress book one: Whiskey and Warfare. And there’s a giveaway!

Running on caffeine and spite with nothing left to prove. GOLDEN GIRLS meets FIREFLY in this rollicking space opera adventure.

Maryn Alessi retired from mercenary service after her last assignment went horribly sideways and settled down on a quiet planet with the love of her life. Unexpectedly widowed, Maryn must fulfill a promise to return her mate’s ashes to zer home planet for funeral rites, but a brutal civil war has destabilized space travel.

Former Artemis Corps sisters-in-arms and their sassy ship, the Golden Girl, are up to the task, counting on luck and their rather sketchy cargo business to get Maryn passage through the contested star lanes. But when the crew of the Girl rescues survivors of a ruthless war crime, Maryn and her ride-or-die friends must take up their old profession to save the lives of innocents from a genocidal dictator.

Warnings: violence, genocide, aging, chronic illness, grief (death of spouse), PTSD

Praise for the Book:

“This is the story we all need now — filled with so much love and respect and genuinely fun adventure.” –KD Edwards, author of The Last Sun

“Every element of it just SANG. The story was *chef’s kiss*. This book is truly special.” –Sarah Chorn, author of The Necessity of Rain

“A fantastic read, a thoroughly delightful romp through space with an all-female main cast that blends crazy action scenes with deep reflection on what it means to grow older. This isn’t your parents’ Golden Girls.” –J. Scott Coatsworth, QueerSciFi.com

Universal Buy Link | Goodreads

Giveaway

E.M. is giving away a $10 Amazon gift card with this tour:

a Rafflecopter giveawayhttps://widget-prime.rafflecopter.com/launch.js

Direct Link: http://www.rafflecopter.com/rafl/display/b60e8d47318/

Excerpt

Jac regarded Col with an arched eyebrow. “What happens to your species as you age? I don’t see you looking any different than the last time we got together.”

“You can’t tell?” Col stroked her furry cheeks. “I have more hair on my face.”

“Don’t we all?” Maryn gave a shaky laugh. “I look like I just hit puberty. I think my moustache is glorious.”

“I have also developed lower breasts,” the Boshi said, revealing her catlike teeth in a silent snarl of disgust.

“Mine are heading south too.” Jac cupped her tits, staring at them in contemplation.

“No. Lower breasts.” Col motioned to mid-abdomen beneath her tunic when it became clear they did not follow. “My second set.”

All three humans stared at her with varying degrees of curiosity. “What are they for?” Scylla asked.

“In my society I would be expected to help nurse the litters of my children. If I had any.” Col’s furry ears flapped as she shuddered. “Mewling, damp little things. Why anyone would want them is a mystery.”

“Ours turned out okay, and I didn’t have to get cozy with anything but a syringe,” Jac said with a laugh. “But I’m pretty sure Maya doesn’t expect me to breastfeed our grandkids.”

“Don’t look at me. I got rid of the plumbing a long time ago.” Scylla slapped her flat chest with both hands.

“How old is Maya now?” Maryn was chagrined to realize she hadn’t asked after her honorary niece.

“Twenty-one. She finished her first degree and she’s in medical residency on Telluride Station.” Jac beamed with pride. “Her gene dads still practice in New Denver, so she’s living with them. They’ve been trying to convince us to settle down there, where it’s safe and boring, but we’re not ready for that.” Something Maryn couldn’t name flitted through her expression before Jac’s face softened. “She sends her love, by the way.”

“Sweet kid. I owe her a graduation gift. What a lousy aunt I am.” She sniffed and wiped her nose with a tissue.

“You’re not.”

“I haven’t even seen her since she was six, when you came to visit.”

“She gets it, Mar.” Jac’s voice was gentle but firm, trying to head off Maryn’s slide into self-recrimination, but it was too much.

“I hate this. All of it.” She balled up the soggy paper in her fist. “I have six days left to take Andelek to Xyri before the scheduled rites and I have got to pull my shit together. I could check interplanetary express freight pricing, I guess. They’ve probably raised the rates because of the war, but I can afford it.”

Her eyes grew hot again. “But it just seems so wrong. Ze isn’t a box of supplies to be shuffled off world by a robotic pilot like so much cargo. But I don’t know what else to do.” Maryn made a frustrated noise as her voice snagged on the words. Tears came again whether she wanted them or not, and she swept the back of her hand over her eyes. “I’m running out of time.”

“About that.” Jac exchanged a long glance with Scylla before she continued, “We were talking. We want to take you to Xyri.”

The warm burst of astonished gratitude faded against an electric-jolt corkscrew of anxiety drilling into her chest. Shame came next, as always, and self-disgust filled her mouth with a sour, acetic burn.

“Are you sure?” she stammered. “It’s such a dangerous flight plan right now. It won’t complicate your business?”

“Nah. We’re still freelance.” Scylla shrugged. “Mostly private transactions. We’re our own bosses.” Her husky voice softened. “And you know the Girl would love to see you.”

“I miss her too.” Golden Girl was the well-loved privateer cruiser they’d pooled their end of tour bonuses to purchase when they left the Corps. The ship had been their home, their means of independence, and she had a definite personality. Its AI learning interface had picked up more human nuance with every mission until they treated it like a fifth crew member.

“The Girl’s small enough she doesn’t attract much attention on sensor sweeps. We need to go through Konecthedot system anyway on … business.” Jac traded another secretive nod with Scylla, and Maryn wondered what they weren’t saying.

“That is next to the front.” Col wasn’t fooled by the innocence act, her peridot eyes narrowed.

“Doesn’t mean it won’t be risky, but we can get you there in plenty of time for the remembrance rites.” Scylla cocked her head and her deep brown eyes, so dark they were almost black, glinted with hope and mischief. “Whatcha think, Mar? We can make it a girls’ trip if Col wants to tag along.”

“Yes!” the Boshi exclaimed in her sweet, breathy voice. “I have been bored out of my skull. I can work anywhere since CosBank gave me remote branch equipment.”

What her friends offered was too generous to turn down. She took a deep, steadying breath. “I don’t know what to say, except—” she gestured helplessly. “Thank you.”

Scylla gulped the rest of her wine, her enthusiasm building. “Konecthedot sector might be close to the front, but we haven’t had any issues yet. It’s less dangerous than anything we did when we were mercs. We’ve got two stops to make on the way, but after that, we head straight for the wormhole and Xyri. We can transport you faster without picking up passengers at every station like the star liners do.”

“Globney said the Qetish fleet is blocking the Pashni.” Maryn twisted her fingers together to keep them from shaking.

“They don’t bother flights that originate anywhere other than Khepra, from what we heard,” the pilot assured her, and amended with a skyward glance, “Leastways, not much.”

“I haven’t been off world since …” she faltered.

Terror. Black, endless space. Isolation. The memory threatened to overwhelm her already fragile composure.

“We know.” Jac stroked her forearm.

Of course they did. They’d saved her life.

Author Bio

E.M. Hamill

E.M. (Elisabeth) Hamill writes adult science fiction and fantasy somewhere in the wilds of eastern suburban Kansas. A nurse by day, wordsmith by night, she has sworn never to grow up and get boring.

Frequently under the influence of caffeinated beverages, she also writes as Elisabeth Hamill for young adult readers in fantasy with the award-winning Songmaker series.

She lives with her family, where they fend off flying monkey attacks and prep for the zombie apocalypse.

Author Website: https://emhamill.wordpress.com

Author Facebook (Author Page): https://www.facebook.com/EMHamill

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The Death Bringer (Tharassas Cycle Book Four) by J. Scott Coatsworth Blog Tour + Book Excerpt

On By authoranthonyavinablogIn Blog Tours, Book EventsLeave a comment
The Death Bringer - J. Scott Coatsworth

J. Scott Coatsworth has a new queer sci-fantasy book out, The Tharassas Cycle book four: The Death Bringer.

AIK WILL NEVER BE THE SAME… AND NEITHER WILL HIS WORLD

War is coming. Aik has become the Progenitor, and the Seed Mother has released him to transform the world for her alien brood. Silya and Raven, Aik’s former friends, are the only ones who can save him and the world. But what if the cure is worse than the invasion?

As Silya rushes to prepare Gullton for the battle to come, she’s determined to save as many people as she can. But new crises emerge that demand her attention.

Raven has his own hands full, keeping the dragon-like verent in line, while helping Silya to save the world. But what if the only way to do so is to sacrifice Aik, the man that he loves?

It’s the end of the world … or could it be the start of something new?

About the Series:

The Tharassas Cycle is a four book sci-fantasy series set on the recently colonized world of Tharassas. When humans first arrived on planet, they thought they were alone until the hencha mind made itself known. But now a new threat has arisen to challenge both humankind and their new allies on this alien world.

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Excerpt

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Chapter One

Regroup

He floated, weightless and naked, surrounded by a reddish light and suspended in fluid. Something connected to his mouth and wrapped around his head, like a lover’s embrace.

He used to have a name. He searched his mind for some clue to his identity. I exist, so I must be someone. Or something.

That made sense, but got him no closer to an answer. He blinked. Who am I?

There was no immediate reply.

He lifted his hand. It was encased in metal. The gauntlet. That much he remembered, though it meant nothing to him. Except… it seemed different, somehow. Thinner.

He moved his arms in the liquid, and it sparkled around him where his shifting disturbed it. The metal extended down his wrist and along his forearm, like before, but now it went farther, around his elbow and up his bicep. He touched it with his free hand.

I can feel it. It was as if the metal had become a part of him, his nerves growing through it. He held out his metallic hand and flexed his fingers. What is it?

We call it uurcaa. It’s a sacred metal—it will protect you, and if your host dies, it will collect and save your soul.He could feel the emotions she held back from him. It is the last of its kind from our homeworld. Like us.

He blinked. Then what am I?

You are my son, Iihil. The progenitor, the one who has come before and the first of many more like you. The voice was deep and comforting.

Mother. Warmth infused him at her voice, and an eagerness to please her.

Still, something wasn’t right. He was more than that. He searched his mind, running up against that stubborn blankness. Somewhere beyond it were the answers he needed.

He’d been someone else. Before.

Who was I? Memories of a face—dark hair, intense eyes that nevertheless twinkled at him. Raven.

It came flooding back to him. His mother. His life in Gullton. Training to be a guard and meeting Raven for the first time. My name is Aik.

He reached for the mask that covered his face. It was suffocating. Something was stuck in his throat, and he coughed hard, trying to force it out, whipping around and causing the liquid around him to flash red in alarm.

Calm yourself. The voice was as thick and heavy as an ix hide, and just as soft and warm.

Aik pushed back. What are you doing to me? I don’t want this! Let me out! He thrashed about, trying to force his way through the suffocating liquid. The metal crept up his shoulder. If it covered all of him, he would be lost.

Calm yourself! It was more insistent this time.

Aik stiffened as an enforced lethargy settled over him. He lost control of his limbs, falling still in his floating prison. The voice pressed against his mind. You’re safe. Be calm, my little one.

He closed his eyes and thought of Raven, trying to stay fixed on that face. I can’t let myself forget again.

Then the world around him dissolved, and he was swept up in a torrent of memories that weren’t his own.

Author Bio

J. Scott Coatsworth

Scott lives with his husband Mark in a yellow bungalow in Sacramento. He was indoctrinated into fantasy and sci fi by his mother at the tender age of nine. He devoured her library, but as he grew up, he wondered where all the people like him were.

He decided that if there weren’t queer characters in his favorite genres, he would remake them to his own ends.

A Rainbow Award winning author, he runs Queer Sci Fi, QueeRomance Ink, Liminal Fiction, and Other Worlds Ink with Mark, sites that celebrate fiction reflecting queer reality, and was the committee chair for the Indie Authors Committee at the Science Fiction and Fantasy Writers of America (SFWA) for almost three years.

Author Website: https://www.jscottcoatsworth.com

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The Death Bringer Excerpt

“Where is she???” Kerrick stormed through the Temple, looking for Silya. Surely she hadn’t already left. I can’t be too late.

The Temple was almost empty. The few sisters still walking the halls glared at him or ignored him. All of them were heading downstairs to the hoped-for safety of the caverns.

The power was out too, of course; the ubiquitous electric lights off. Gas lanterns lit the way every ten meters or so, leaving broad gaps of darkness.

He took the main stair two steps at a time, going against the tide, anxious to find her. At the top, he tried the long talker. “Silya, where are you?”

He waited for an agonizingly long minute, but there was no reply. She must have been out of range. He slammed it back into its holster. Damned things are useless.

“Ser Kek!” Dor’s voice was unmistakable. It stopped him in his tracks.

He spun around, seeing her leaning out of a doorway. Silya’s office. “Where is she?”

“She’s already gone.” Her voice held a mix of regret and awe. “You need to calm down. You’re scaring the few sisters who haven’t gone downstairs yet. Including me.”

“Sorry. Am I too late?” He put his hands on his knees, breathing heavily.

“Yes.” She approached him, putting a hand on his shoulder.

He shook his head. “I have to go after her.” I can’t believe she left without me. Then again, she was who she was — strong-willed and carrying the weight of the world on her shoulders. If she thought she could help, she threw herself into the task with a zeal that amazed him.

“The verent riders are all gone, and I doubt you’d be able to get one of the uncompanioned ones to take you.” She looked him up and down. “You’re a mess, my fine Guard. Come into my office.”

Reluctantly he followed her into the small room. It was meticulously organized. Shelves lined the walls, filled with all manner of things — books, strange sculptures made out of a black, shiny rock, several vases, bottles, wooden boxes, and an assortment of other riff-raff. Neat stacks of hencha paper filled one side of her desk, held in place under a polished stone paperweight. A tray with four ceramic mugs and an akka pot sat on the other. A narrow window let in some natural light.

“Have a seat.”

He slumped into the wooden chair, defeated. “I came back as quickly as I could —”

“She just left. When she gets it in her head to do something …” Sister Dor shook her head, admiration and frustration visible on her face in equal parts. “There’s not much more to do here. We’re shutting down the Temple and sending the last of the sisters to the safety of the caverns.” She poured a mug of hot akka, the steam pouring out of the spout with the brown liquid. Its rich smell filled the room. “Drink this. It will help you get your wits about you.”

He took it gratefully. “I have to find a way to go after her.”

As if to emphasize his words, the ground shook ominously underfoot.

He held the cup aloft until the shaking passed to keep the hot liquid from sloshing onto his lap, and then took a long sip. “Did Chala come back?”

Dor frowned. “I haven’t seen her. I thought she was with you?”

“She was, but she had to take her verent out to the dam to help open the floodgates.” He hoped she was all right. If she was here, she could take me.

He got up and went to the window, looking out at the darkening hencha gathering. He took another sip of the hot drink. It calmed his nerves and warmed his stomach. The plants below rustled restlessly, as if they knew what was coming. Maybe they do.

In the distance, on the southern edge of the gathering, the practice field sat empty, save for the little flying machine. “That’s it — the flitter!”

Dor put a hand on his shoulder — a feat for someone a third shorter than he was. “We’d have to find Fen’Ost, and I’m not sure where he ended up, to be honest. He has family down on Redhawk Spine —”

“I could fly it.” He drained the cup and set it back on its tray.

“You? Have you ever flown one before?”

He nodded, closing his eyes and trying to remember the early days of his Guard training. “I flew the city one, once. And I watched Fentin take this one out to visit the ce’faine.”

It could work. It was certainly better than sitting here on his hands while Silya went to fight the invaders. Did you send me to the dam to keep me out of harm’s way? It would be just like her.

Sister Dor frowned. “Are you sure? It’s a complicated machine.”

He nodded. “I have to. Where’s Elleck?”

“I heard you were back.” His sister stood at the door, her long braid wrapped around her waist. “What’s this foolishness about taking a flitter ride?”

He grinned, setting down the cup and bounding across the space between them to throw his arms around her. “Just the person I wanted to see. Want to do something absolutely crazy with me?”

“Of course.” Elleck squeezed him back. “What are sisters for?”

Kerrick felt almost happy, for the first time in days. “Let’s go then, before I come to my senses and change my mind.” He turned towards Dor. ‘Mim Ala, is there any more of that bandy pulp to be had?”

Dor nodded. “Come on. We can get some in the kitchen.” She got up, wincing. “We can get ourselves some supplies too.” She led them out of the room.

“We?” He exchanged a puzzled glance with his sister.

“Against my better judgment, I’m coming with you. With a blindfold on, because I can’t imagine you’re as good a pilot as Mas Ost, and he left me sick to my stomach for half the day.”

“Are you … sure?” He followed her down the hall.

She stopped, nodding slowly. “Silya’s not facing this alone. I let her ground me from her little verent joyride, but at least the flitter has a nice seat inside.”

He nodded. “You should be there with her. She needs you.”

“That, my boy, has never been in doubt.” She patted him on the shoulder. “Come on. The war’s not going to wait for us.”

Inside half an hour, they had smeared themselves with the sticky-sweet substance and had gathered a few supplies.

They boarded the little craft solemnly.

He surveyed the controls, trying to remember what he’d had to push and pull during his limited flitter training.

After a few false starts, he found the right combination and lifted them — shakily — into the sky.