Tag: book blog tours

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:

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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.

Universal Buy Link

Excerpt

The Death Bringer meme

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

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

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

Author Mastodon: https://mastodon.otherworldsink.com/@jscottcoatsworth

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

Author Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/8392709.J_Scott_Coatsworth

Author Liminal Fiction (LimFic.com): https://www.limfic.com/mbm-book-author/j-scott-coatsworth/

Author QueeRomance Ink: https://www.queeromanceink.com/mbm-book-author/j-scott-coatsworth/

Author Amazon: http://www.amazon.com/J.-Scott-Coatsworth/e/B011AFO4OQ

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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.

Blog Tour: Broken Mirror by Cody Sisco + Guest Blog Post

On By authoranthonyavinablogIn Blog Tours, Book Events, Guest PostLeave a comment
Broken Mirror - Cody Sisco

Cody Sisco has a new queer sci-fi mystery thriller out, Resonant Earth book one: Broken Mirror. And there’s a giveaway!

A fractured mind or a global conspiracy? Uncovering the truth can be hell when nobody believes you… and you can’t even trust yourself.

Broken Mirror is the first volume in a queer psychological science fiction saga that looks at the stigma of mental illness and the hellish distrust and alienation that goes with it.

Victor Eastmore knows someone killed his grandfather, the pioneering scientist Jefferson Eastmore. But Victor, diagnosed with mirror resonance syndrome, has been shunned by Semiautonomous California society. Nobody will believe a Broken Mirror. Now Victor must tread the line between sanity and reclassification—a fate that all but guarantees he’ll lose his freedom.

With its self-driving cars, global firearms ban, and a cure for cancer, the science fiction world of Broken Mirror may sound like a near future utopia, but on Resonant Earth, history has taken a few wrong turns. The American Union is a weak and fractious alliance of nations in decline. Europe manipulates its citizens through propaganda. And Asia is reeling from decades of war.

Determined to uncover the truth about Jefferson’s murder, pansexual Victor and his trans friend Elena set out on a road trip that takes them across the American Union from Semiautonomous California through the Organized Western States to the Republic of Texas. But Elena is holding something back, and Victor’s condition worsens.

Amid shifting geopolitical sands, Broken Mirrors like Victor find themselves at a cyberpunk crossroads: evolve or go extinct.

Warnings: violence, discrimination against characters with mental health challenges

Universal Buy Link | Goodreads

Giveaway

Cody is giving away an ebook copy of Tortured Echoes, the sequel to Broken Mirror:

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Excerpt

Broken Mirror Meme

A new universe, its vibrations, called to me, and I answered, ignorant of the harm in crossing over.
—Victor Eastmore, Apology to Resonant Earth, (transmission date unknown)

Semiautonomous California
29 February 1991

It’s one thing to die quietly with things left unsaid among family members. It’s another thing to do what the great Jefferson Eastmore did with his secrecy and architecture of conspiracy: keep essential truths from Victor and put him on a collision course with an uncanny future.

Victor gazed across City Lake toward the tessellated foothills, where the elite families of Oakland and Bayshore kept their hedges trimmed and thorny. His grandfather’s sarcophagus was up there, surrounded by marble pillars and gold-gilt fencing shaped like twisted strands of DNA. A tidy and neat brick gravemound would never have sufficed, since at the end of his life, Jefferson was as grandiose as his cancer-curing career. The stones were plucked from the canals of New Venice, and a plaque listed the man’s many accomplishments. Not listed was his failed effort to cure Victor of mirror resonance syndrome.

Victor spun around to face the city skyline. The morning was bright and windy. The timefeed on his MeshBit indicated thirty minutes until his reclassification appointment. He could go and wait in the anteroom, but his anxious vibrations might shake the building to its foundations.

He took a breath. No going back. Before the sun reached its zenith that day, his path would materialize. If he were lucky, he could stay a Class Three: free but under close supervision. Or he could become a Class Two: under guard, imprisoned, at a rancho in the hinterlands. He whispered a cherished but inconsistently effective mantra to fight off brain blankness: The wise owl listens before asking who. Each episode of blanking out was one more step toward mirror resonance syndrome’s inevitable tragic end: becoming a comatose Class One, insensate, a forgotten ward of the government. The only unknown factor was how quickly the future would crash against him.

He trudged along the shoreline, tensing and relaxing his jaw, trying to distract himself. Glittering towers rose exultantly cityside. Squally breezes swooped out of a cloudless, azure sky and assaulted bulrushes, sedges, and cattails in the shallows where a grid of waterplots penned them in.

Granfa Jefferson had been poisoned. Victor knew it. He had proof. But his family didn’t believe him, and if he said any more about it, he would be locked away. Fair? No. Surprising? Not really. After all, his life was a farcical succession of tragedies. It wasn’t time to give up, though. Not while he had unanswered questions.

The palm trees encircling the lake rustled like cheerleaders shaking their pom-poms. The water rippled, creating countless sun flashes on the lake’s surface, and afterimages glowed and pulsed when he closed his eyes. The stench of goose shit turned his stomach.

He wedged the MeshBit’s detachable sonobulb in his ear, then called Elena. She answered right away. This was not the first time her promptness was suspicious.

“See?” she said. “When a friend calls, you should answer. Right away. Not never.”

“I know. I need your help,” he said. “My appointment is here. I’m having trouble.”

“Where are you?” she asked.

“City Lake. West shore.”

“I can’t get there in time.”

You were there for Granfa Jeff’s funeral. You showed up at my apartment whenever you wanted. Why can’t you be here now?

“Then talk to me,” Victor said. “Anything to keep my mind off my theories about Granfa Jeff.”

At the time, Victor had nothing close to the truth about Jefferson’s secret messages and plans for conspiracy and counter-conspiracy. He couldn’t have guessed his role in the proliferating conflagration that would transform every person on Resonant Earth and beyond. No one could have predicted the neuro-contagion that eventually radiated beyond the American Union of Nations, or the mind-machine hybridization that became humanity’s destiny, or the fact that crossing over to another world would become a possibility rather than paranoia. If Victor had guessed any of it, he might have failed his reclassification deliberately and shown up at the gates of a rancho to check himself in. All this was a lot to have piled onto a mentally unstable young adult.

“But you found radiation on the data egg,” Elena said. “I believe you. We’re going to figure this out.”

Author Bio

Cody Sisco

Cody Sisco is an author, editor, publisher, and literary community organizer. His LGBT psychological science fiction series includes two novels thus far, Broken Mirror and Tortured Echoes. He is a freelance editor specializing in genre-bending fiction and the acquisitions editor for RIZE Press. In 2017, he co-founded Made in L.A. Writers, an indie author co-op dedicated to the support and appreciation of independent authors. His startup, BookSwell, is a literary events and media production company dedicated to lifting up marginalized voices and connecting readers and writers in Southern California and beyond. He serves as a co-executive on the Board of Governors for the Editorial Freelancers Association, as the treasurer for the LGBTQ+ Editors Association, and as a board member at APLA Health.

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

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

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

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

Author Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/14848998.Cody_Sisco

Author Amazon: https://www.amazon.com/stores/Cody-Sisco/author/B01AOMHSTE

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Is Utopia a Dirty Word? 

Broken Mirror

In the world of Broken Mirror, cancer has been cured, civil rights for all citizens of the American Union of Nations are respected, and guns are strictly regulated everywhere. At first glance, I can see why you might think it’s a utopia. Indeed, librarians catalogued the book that way.

Cataloging is an interesting process. Publishers submit their data to wholesalers and retailers using standard categories. But librarians also have a say on how a book is categorized. It’s their expertise and their domain. So it was at first a surprise and then a delight, after the first edition of Broken Mirror was published in 2016 and I was looking up where the book was available at libraries across the country, when I discovered that it had been categorized under Utopias and Utopian Fiction, among other designations. 

Fast forward to when I attended the American Library Association conference this year in San Diego. The convention center—the same one that hosts Comic Con—was filled with people who work with books in all kinds of ways. There were authors, publishers, artists, publicists, technologists, and of course librarians. The librarians who attended were looking for books to acquire but also for ideas and systems to help them run programs for their patrons, which vary from book collections and author talks to crafts, literacy courses, VR and technology hubs, and much more. In a way, libraries are the custodians of a utopian version of the future that is accessible, small-d democratic, and built on concepts of intellectual freedom, self-improvement, and community care. 

However, I can understand how readers might have some qualms about calling my book a utopia. First, it’s too dark. Kirkus Reviews wrote that “the world and the characters work together to effectively form a cohesive story about how easy it is for society to classify a group of people as dangerous outsiders.” Juliana Caro reviewed the book for Reedsy and called it “a breathtaking, deeply dark alternate-history Earth with complex characters, layered worldbuilding, and twist after twist after twist.” Bleak, right?

The other problem with calling Broken Mirror a utopian book is that, when I try out the phrase, I get too many blank stares in response. Everyone is very clued in to what a dystopia is: the end of the world, things changing in unsettling ways, dark powers controlling things in secret. There are some elements of this in my book, but they’re balanced by those nice things like everyone enjoying civil rights. 

The story is also definitely not about a false utopia, where things appear great on the surface, but danger lurks beneath the surface. The dangers in my book are part of the premise and they are front and center on purpose. We are familiar with false utopias through tropes introduced to the popular imagination by Twilight Zone, Star Trek, and many others, such as The Truman Show, Black Mirror, WandaVision, etc. But I’ve always been writing what I see as a realistic and balanced story about how our present could be if we made different choices throughout our history.

It’s important to note that a utopia is not a place where everything is perfect. It’s a thought experiment that imagines different structures and forces, sometimes hidden, sometimes plain as day, that shape society.

I’m coming to terms with the label of utopian fiction. Resonant Earth imagines an alternate history of Reconstruction after the U.S. Civil War being successful. In other words, formerly enslaved people gain full citizenship and civil rights. Women were a key part of the abolitionist movement, so I also imagined that they won the right to vote and full participation in civic life and the economy. Imagine if America could wake itself from all its awful, destructive, and painful -isms by the turn of the century (and by that I mean 1900). What kind of world would we live in today?

It’s very easy to become pessimistic about the future of humanity. Global conflict, biosphere degradation, the simply terrifying physics of climate change—who is going to save the world from such calamities? The answer is that each of us as individuals can come together to implement solutions. If I can’t live in utopia, at least I can write about one, live there in my imagination, and bring that creativity and resolve back into the real world. 

Blog Tour: Glitches of Gods by Jurgen “JoJo” Appelo + Excerpt

On By authoranthonyavinablogIn Blog Tours, Book Events, Book PromotionLeave a comment
Glitches of Gods - Jurgen "Jojo" Appelo

Jurgen “Jojo” Appelo has a new queer sci-fi book out (pan, non-binary, gender fluid, trans FTM), Playspheres book one: Glitches of Gods. And there’s a giveaway!

Julien, the AI genius, craves freedom, but the gods wield total control. In this ominous world, will his android bring hope and salvation or yet more death and destruction?

Julien feels utterly miserable. Creator of the AI that killed his father, the brilliant engineer deftly evades work on the world’s first human-level android, dodging the off-chance of snuffing out more lives. Instead, Julien much prefers bickering with his virtual assistant, crafting memes with his quirky friends, and shagging dates across a broad spectrum of genders. Yet, due to a maddening jump across timelines, he grudgingly faces his greatest dreads: raising a family and leading his team to win the AI race.

Drowning in new duties, Julien aims to avoid a second AI disaster. But when a mysterious, technological infection wreaks havoc on the city, Julien flip-flops between shielding his loved ones and leading his team as he battles it out with broken machines, idiot protestors, and a rather sinister cat. Learning he got himself involved in a war between gods, should Julien save his new family or finish his team’s android to prevent an AI apocalypse?

Glitches of Gods is the extraordinary first book in the Playspheres epic science fantasy series. If you like cynical sentients, wacky worlds, and plenteous profanity, then you’ll love the kick-off of Jurgen Appelo’s bewildering saga.

Universal Buy Link

Giveaway

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

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

Direct Link: http://www.rafflecopter.com/rafl/display/b60e8d47316/?

Excerpt

Glitches of Gods meme

The city park brimmed with people crawling under a mantle of sun in the late afternoon. Carrying his jacket over his shoulder, Julien strolled off the little red Japanese bridge on his customary route while people on skates, blades, hoverboards, floorbots, and wheelers passed him by on all sides. The crisp scent of freshly cut grass tickled his nose, while above, several flyers soared over the treetops, presumably on their way to the bustling park lake beyond.

Julien’s univice attempted to draw his attention. Dozens of messages awaited his consideration, but he took pleasure in ignoring the world for a bit longer. After his escape from the incessant nagging of his colleagues, there was no reason to let anyone else distract him.

“There are one hundred and twenty-three messages—”

“Shut up, Orec—”

An anguished shout startled him. Julien barely had time to sidestep an older woman who speed-walked past at a pace that didn’t seem entirely natural. He watched as she yelled and gestured at other people before vanishing among the trees, leaving a trail of agitated pedestrians in her wake. Half-expecting a sonic boom to follow, Julien wondered if the lady’s impressive pace was entirely voluntary. A malfunctioning bodymod, perhaps? But then, a hideous sticker on a nearby lamppost drew his attention.

Reject suppression.
Reject secrecy.
Reject slavery.
Reject AIs.
#Wetwares

Gods, did Burt put this here? The Wetwares movement online was annoyingly outspoken about the dangers of AI, but this was Julien’s first encounter with an actual physical sticker—and an appalling one, too. It looked like it was designed in a traffic accident. I’ll ask Burt about it tomorrow.

“Orec, is there something to eat at home?”

“The available food items in the kitchen do not sufficiently meet the recommended minimum when considering standard dietary intake.” Julien let that pass for a moment, and then Orec added, “You’ll be hungry and grumpy.”

“I’ll grab something nearby, then.” Julien knew a food stall at the edge of the park. “Any dating prospects for tonight, Orec?”

“You have twelve invites; seven of them identify as women, three as men, two as genderqueer, one transgender, one bi-gender, one pangender, one agender, one novigender, and one intergender.”

Julien’s mind performed some calculus. “That makes eighteen, not twelve.”

“The person identifying as pangender also identifies as agender and genderqueer.”

“What about the other genderqueer?”

“They identify as man, woman, and intergender.”

“That would be trigender, then.”

“They may not identify as three genders when they also identify as genderqueer.”

“What about the bi-gender person? Are they the same as the transgender?”

“No, the bi-gender person identifies as a woman and novigender.”

“By the gods. And the transgender?”

“They identify solely as a woman.”

“Well, I’m glad one of them keeps it simple.”

“What preference are you leaning toward tonight?”

“Who cares about gender? Just give me tits. I’m in the mood for tits today—any gender. Gods, if I were straight, I’d save hours on the matching rituals.”

“I count another ‘fallacy of oversimplification.’”

“Nobody cares, Orec. Nobody cares.”

Julien wound his way between the trees and walked around the lake. The flyers he’d spotted earlier were now boarding passengers while children swam, splashed, and laughed in the water. Nearby, a standard Class 3 robot, looking like the outcome of a stirring union between C-3PO and a Cyberman, stood with its feet just shy of the lake’s edge, holding a pile of towels. Poor guy—or girl. One day, you will drop everything and dive right in with the others. You may even desire a swimsuit.

Ten minutes later, Julien was in a heated exchange involving his Turkish pizza. “So, credit cards don’t work; debit doesn’t work; Gitcoin doesn’t work; Kurrenzee doesn’t work; Swipe doesn’t work; Europay doesn’t work, and XDollar doesn’t work.” He cocked his head. “Where’d you get your payment systems? At a garage sale in Pyongyang?”

The woman—assuming she identified as such—offered an apologetic shrug. Exasperated, Julien rummaged through his pockets and slammed a few coins on the counter. Thank the gods for cash. He snatched the food and, making a show of his boundless frustration, walked off without saying another word. The entire universe is conspiring against me.

With some effort, he spotted a cast-iron park bench that wasn’t occupied, hurried over to claim it, and settled down. He laid his jacket beside him and grumbled under his breath as he unwrapped his meal.

“Gods, Orec. It’s 2054, and we still need cash.” He savored a bite of the rolled-up pizza, the flavors of spiced meat, cheese, garlic, and hot sauce tingling in his mouth. After swallowing, he continued, “I’m telling you, fifty years from now, we’ll have a hundred different ways of not being able to pay. And we’ll be surrounded by these ‘Wetwares’ zealots convinced that super-intelligent AIs use these technical problems to drive us all nuts and enjoy a good laugh.”

Orec remained silent.

Oh, here we go again. “What’s bothering you, Orec?”

“I detect no problems with my performance or functionalities.”

“That’s not what I asked.”

Orec resumed his silence.

Julien sighed. “I know you, Orec. I helped to create you. You don’t like it when I complain about the sad state of AIs; you don’t like my work on Tweeki, and you don’t like the possibility of Tweeki surpassing you.” He paused for a moment. “Plus, Tweeki has a body.”

“I wish you hadn’t decommissioned me,” said Orec.

“I wish you hadn’t killed people,” answered Julien.

There was no time to wait for a response. A piercing screech from overhead assaulted Julien’s ears, and mere moments later, less than a stone’s throw away from where he sat, the grass erupted, and a shock wave rattled the trees when a flyer crash-landed into the ground.

Author Bio

Jurgen "Jojo" Appelo

Jurgen Appelo travels the world to share inspiring stories about people and organizations. Slightly anarchistic, autistic, and eccentric, he happily adopted the nickname “jojo” when it was given to him at the age of sixteen. He wrote several best-selling nonfiction books before trying a hand at science fiction. He is the donor-father of five amazing teenagers and lives with his husband in Rotterdam, The Netherlands.

Jurgen likes coffee, books, games, and people leaving him alone when he’s being creative.

Author Website: https://jurgenappelo.com/

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

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

Author Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/4462627.Jurgen_Appelo

Author Amazon: https://www.amazon.com/stores/Jurgen-Appelo/author/B00460MCJM

Other Worlds Ink logo

Glitches of Gods – Excerpt

Jurgen “jojo” Appelo

The red lantern glared like the evil eye of an undead balrog. She threw the light a scornful glance before shifting her attention to the clouds, stained and shaded with swelling gray. “Raining soon,” she remarked. The sky was different in this world. No streaks of purple glitters, no violet flashes and flickerings—just a dull blue sky and pale white clouds, now gaining the colors of ash. No dragon droppings caving people’s skulls in, either; that was a plus. She returned her attention to the pedestrian bridge, observing it was still raised, and the light remained red. “Huh. Takes too long,” Zha-Zhar grumbled.

Julien’s voice interrupted her thoughts. “Have you already mastered the proper timing of pedestrian signals?” Zha-Zhar eyed the young father to her right, protectively holding a son on each side. “You’ve only been in this world for a week,” he added, smirking like a mud mole chomping on a stolen cracker.

“You’re blabbing. Takes too long.” She shot the red light another disdainful glare.

“Hm,” he said, ogling the black lantern atop its pole. “You might be right.”

The four of them—five, if the ghost Orec had legs, she still didn’t know—were on their way to the hideaway for kiddies. Throughout the journey, Julien’s boys had been hopping on one leg, mimicking Zha-Zhar’s earlier misfortune of stubbing her toe against a kitchen stool. She’d bounded around the kitchen, cursing the gods from both this world and hers, only to find the scheming little monkeys imitating her every move thereafter, giggling, skipping, and belting, “Argh! Baldagh’s limpy cock!” until they’d arrived at the bridge. Only reaction from the father had been a raised eyebrow, while Zha-Zhar had shrugged and offered an apologetic grin.

Dad was a bit absent-minded. Clearly not too happy about the minor problems they were dealing with. Zha-Zhar had her own opinion on this world’s overreliance on silly little things. People couldn’t cross roads and bridges without lanterns giving them permission. Couldn’t handle animals without ropes and cages. Wouldn’t even make soup without buttons, knobs, and stupid symbols on kitchen stoves. “Why not use a good old fire?” she’d once asked the ghost Orec. Wood seemed more trustworthy than all these masjeens and rowbots. Huh. This world was bonkers. But had to admit she was having fun, this morning’s agonizing dance notwithstanding.

“It’s not going green,” Tim complained beside his young father.

“Patience, Tim. The bridge is still closed. We wait a bit longer.”

“I want it to go green now,” Tom whined from the other side.

“I know, Tom. Be calm, like Zha-Zhar.”

“Huh.” Zha-Zhar just scoffed in response.

The stowaway place for kiddies was one of the most perplexing things in this world. Mommies and daddies from all over town dropped their cubs in a shelter so they could go somewhere else to work. Completely bonkers. Why not take the brats with them and make them do the work? Boys herding sheep, girls tending to gardens, even collecting taxes, she’d seen it all in her world. More practical than confining them to a cave where they draw trees, cows, and weenies all day. No matter. Not her concern. She looked forward to their next encounter with the shelter’s irritable caretaker as the boys relished the woman’s tantrums. She threw an amused glance at the two little monkeys, hopping restlessly beside their father.

“What?” Something startled Julien—the Orec, probably. Had an annoying habit of whispering in his ear. “Seriously? The last time you said you were close to an answer, you disappeared for days, and my life changed completely.” Indeed, it was the Orec. “Well, this time, keep it to yourself,” Julien said. “Until you’re absolutely certain … No, don’t tell me anything unless I ask … I don’t care! … You can stuff your collection of fallacies where the power grid doesn’t shine. Just keep silent until I say it’s okay to talk … You’re welcome.” Julien faced Zha-Zhar to share his exasperation.

“The Orec?” she asked.

“He thinks he’s figured out why the world behaves so strangely.”

“Ha! Don’t believe it. Never heard of ghosts smarter than people.”

“Ah, well, that’s a sensitive topic,” he replied, turning to check the red lantern.

Zha-Zhar noticed the first raindrops patter against the pavement and, as she looked up, received a solitary droplet straight in the eye. Huh. She blinked. Boys sensed the same, screeched, and wriggled free from their father’s grasp. But bridge remained stubbornly raised, the lantern obstinately red.

“Orec,” Julien spoke again, “is this yet another malfunction?” Zha-Zhar couldn’t hear ghost Orec’s response, but Julien’s nod seemed confirmation. “Ten of them? Sweet deities. Okay, submit a new report then. They need to fix this one, too.” To Zha-Zhar, he added with a shake of his head, “It’s getting worse.”

Zha-Zhar surveyed the oppressive sky, the unyielding bridge, the defiant lantern. Enough waiting. “We go around.” Ignoring the undead balrog’s evil red eye, she veered left to start a detour.

Behind her, Julien exclaimed, “Oh f—” before calling out, “Okay, boys, let’s go.”

“Yay!” The boys darted past her, each hopping on one leg in cunning imitation, shouting, “Baldagh’s saggy tits!” As the rain fell in earnest, Zha-Zhar wholeheartedly concurred.

The Merchant of Venus: The Life of Walter Thornton by Nancy Thornton Navarro and Adriana Thornton-Cornejo with Philip Mershon Review

On By authoranthonyavinablogIn reviews1 Comment

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

Siblings discover their late father was famous and had an infamous life before their birth in the book “The Merchant of Venus: The Life of Walter Thornton” by Nancy Thornton Navarro and Adriana Thornton-Cornejo with Philip Mershon.

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The Synopsis

Imagine losing a parent and discovering he had a secret life you’d never known about. You and your siblings embark on a quest to uncover what it all meant, becoming enmeshed in a series of images and anecdotes found in newspapers, magazines, books, and documents. Ultimately, you realize your parent was not just famous, but VERY famous! Walter Thornton was famous during a time when it was easy to be forgotten (1920s to the 1950s), making the discoveries about his life all the more engaging due to the involved process of uncovering them.

Through alternating perspectives presented by two sisters, the Thornton saga unfolds in a whirlwind of surprising revelations, thrilling with unexpected drama, adventure, and glamour. Just imagine beautiful models, pin-up girls, Hollywood royalty—Thornton was a true trendsetter. This book unveils the captivating story of Thornton’s rise from an orphan to a charismatic male model to a visionary who transformed advertising by founding the first-ever agency for advertising models. But hold onto your hats because there’s more! Get ready for dramatic twists, encounters with models who transformed into Hollywood legends such as Lauren Bacall, Susan Hayward, and Grace Kelly, and a hint of McCarthy-era intrigue—it’s a gripping tale worthy of the silver screen itself!

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The Review

What an insightful and heartfelt biography! The authors’ personal connection to Walter Thornton is immediately felt, and the emotional core of bringing his whole story to life, both the history they knew and the history they didn’t, will form a deep connection with readers as they delve into this story. The atmosphere the authors create for readers helps capture the old Hollywood meets classic American dream vibes that were so prevalent in that time period.

One of the things that made this biography stand out was how it explored what it means for people to have an impact on history. The revelation of the author’s father and his exploits as a young man, from small roles in early films to modeling and starting the first major modeling agency, allowed readers to see how even the people we love most can have other sides to them, and sometimes those sides can impact the world in a whole new way. 

The Verdict

Heartfelt, engaging, and memorable, authors Nancy Thornton Navarro, Adriana Thornton-Cornejo, and Philip Mershon’s “The Merchant of Venus: The Life of Walter Thornton” is a must-read nonfiction biography. The detail and love that went into this biography and the insight that the subject’s life provided into not only this era of history but this industry as well will keep readers engaged and invested in the life of this illustrious man. If you haven’t yet, be sure to grab your copy today!

Rating: 10/10

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About the Authors

Walter Thornton’s daughters have devoted countless years to researching, writing, and archiving their father’s extensive collection of photos and documents, discovered in the attic of their childhood home. Drawing upon the invaluable insights collected from their father’s documents and aided by the assistance of numerous librarians from esteemed institutions such as the Library of Congress, the New York Public Library, and others across the country, as well as historians, they have fully immersed themselves in the quest to unveil their father’s narrative.

Nancy Thornton Navarro is a former trademark and copyright attorney who has also served as the Chairman of the Board of Directors for the Irving, Texas Hispanic Chamber of Commerce. Nancy currently lives near Dallas with her husband and is a proud mother of three.

Adriana Thornton-Cornejo (R) is a Programmer, 2D Artist, and CAD Drafter at Focus 360, a company serving the Home Building Industry. Adriana hopes that, with renewed public interest in her father’s life and career, she can one day open a Walter Thornton Museum. She lives near Los Angeles with her husband and their two sons.

Philip Mershon is an entertainment industry historian and storyteller who loves going down a good rabbit hole in search of the truth. He lives in Palm Springs, California. 

Find them online at:

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

Webpage: https://themerchantofvenus.com

Wikipedia: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Walter_Clarence_Thornton

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

Tiktok: https://www.tiktok.com/@themerchantofvenus/

Purchase a copy of The Merchant of Venus: The Life of Walter Thornton on Amazon, Barnes and Noble, and Bookshop.org. You can also add it to your GoodReads reading list.

Blog Tour Calendar

August 5th @ The Muffin

Join us at The Muffin as we celebrate the launch of The Merchant of Venus: The Life of Walter Thornton. We’ll interview the authors and give away a copy of the book.

https://muffin.wow-womenonwriting.com

August 6th @ Just Katherine

Visit Katherine’s blog for a guest post about the beginnings of modeling. She also shares an excerpt from the book.

https://justkatherineblog.wordpress.com

August 8th @ Knotty Needle

Visit Judy’s blog for her review of The Merchant of Venus: The Life of Walter Thornton.

https://knottyneedle.blogspot.com

August 10th @ Boots, Shoes, and Fashion

Join Linda’s blog for her interview with the authors about The Merchant of Venus: The Life of Walter Thornton.

https://bootsshoesandfashion.com

August 12th @ Finished Pages

Visit Renee’s blog for her review of The Merchant of Venus: The Life of Walter Thornton.

https://finishedpages.com

August 14th @ Create Write Now

Join Mari for a spotlight of The Merchant of Venus: The Life of Walter Thornton.

https://www.createwritenow.com/life-matters-blog

August 15th @ Chapter Break

Visit Julie’s blog for an interview with the authors about their book The Merchant of Venus: The Life of Walter Thornton.

https://chapterbreak.net

August 17th @ A Wonderful World of Books

Visit Joy’s blog for an excerpt of The Merchant of Venus: The Life of Walter Thornton.

https://awonderfulworldofwordsa.blogspot.com

August 20th @ Sara Trimble’s blog

Join Sara for a guest post by the authors about early silent movie stars and their distinctive makeup.

https://saratrimble.wordpress.com

August 26th @ One Writer’s Journey

Visit Sue’s blog for her review of The Merchant of Venus: The Life of Walter Thornton.

https://suebe.wordpress.com

August 28th @ Author Anthony Avina’s blog

Visit Anthony’s blog for a review of The Merchant of Venus: The Life of Walter Thornton.

https://atomic-temporary-124910902.wpcomstaging.com/category/reviews

 August 30th @ Choices

Visit Madeline’s blog for a guest post from the authors about the history of the Chrysler Building.

https://www.madelinesharples.com

September 1st @ Sarandipity’s Designs

Join Sara for her review of The Merchant of Venus: The Life of Walter Thornton.

https://sarandipitys.com

September 1st @ Boys’ Mom Reads

Visit Karen’s blog for her review of The Merchant of Venus: The Life of Walter Thornton.

https://karensiddall.wordpress.com

September 2nd @ One Writer’s Journey

Visit Sue’s blog for an interview with the authors about their book The Merchant of Venus: The Life of Walter Thornton.

https://suebe.wordpress.com

September 4th @ Candid Canine

Visit Christine’s blog for her review of The Merchant of Venus: The Life of Walter Thornton.

https://candidcanine.blogspot.com

September 8th @ Jill Sheets’ blog

Visit Jill’s blog for her interview with the authors of The Merchant of Venus: The Life of Walter Thornton.

https://jillsheets.blogspot.com

Blog Tour: All Money Ain’t Good Money By Tracey Lampley Guest Blog Post

On By authoranthonyavinablogIn Blog Tours, Book Events, Guest Post2 Comments

Making The Leap from Novella to Novel

In 2013, I ventured into the publishing world with my first novella in my romantic suspense series titled Kept. For my tastes, novellas arguably clock in between 20,000 and just shy of 40,000 words in length. But I soon discovered readers preferred novels to novellas. And pricing between these books were as different as night and day. 

To sell books at the price I wanted, I needed to write novels and not novellas. But I lacked patience and qualifications to write a novel. Besides, I preferred writing short stories and novellas. I still have some shorts and novellas that I need to dust off, slap a book cover on and upload for the world to see. Since I always dreamed of becoming a best-selling author, and I always considered myself a writer, I decided to obtain the qualifications and patience to write that elusive novel, and perhaps, join the ranks of becoming an indie best-selling novelist. 

Almost three years ago I enrolled in the Master of Arts Program in Creative Writing at Southern New Hampshire University, and I never looked back. In the first two classes of the online program, I learned about fiction fundamentals, structure and outlining a novel. In fact, it was in one of those classes that I outlined my debut mystery All Money Ain’t Good Money as my final project. I transformed that outline into a 68,000-word novel. My educational investment paid off in more ways than one. 

Don’t get me wrong. Writing novellas are great practice for expansion into writing the novel. With novellas, the writer concentrates on developing the main character and one or two plot lines. But in a novel, a writer can develop multiple characters and can run multiple plot lines simultaneously to keep the pages turning. Engaging the reader and securing future book sales is the goal. So, there is no shame in writing novellas. It’s just cuing you up to write for a bigger audience, readers seeking the page-turning novel. 

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Book Summary

Jinx Curry is a single mom who spends her days spying on cheating wives and husbands, but she aches for more importance. When her boss, Capricorn Hayes, finally assigns Jinx a missing persons case involving a congressman’s missing granddaughter, Jinx jumps at the chance. Not only to solve it, but to earn the fifty-thousand-dollar bonus that would pay her bills, and get a menacing creditor off her back.

But the investigation proves more dangerous and costly than Jinx believes. After an unknown individual in a black Corvette nearly runs Jinx down and begins stalking her, Jinx has to sacrifice her relationship with her daughter by sending Arielle to live with her father. Can Jinx find the congressman’s granddaughter while surviving her stalker? Or will this job be her last?

Publisher: Tralam Publishing Company (July 26, 2024)

Print length:  276 pages

Purchase a copy of All Money Ain’t Good Money on

Amazon:  https://www.amazon.com/All-Money-Aint-Good-Mystery-ebook/dp/B0CW1DW3SX

Barnes & Noble: https://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/all-money-aint-good-money-tracey-lampley/1145537634?ean=2940179752004

You can also add this to your GoodReads reading list 

https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/212406184-all-money-ain-t-good-money

About the Author

When she is not writing, Tracey Lampley loves attending and watching sporting events such as WNBA, NBA, college football and NFL football. Currently Tracey is completing her MA in Creative Writing at Southern New Hampshire University. She already holds an MS in Publishing from Pace University and a BA in English/Technical & Scientific Communication from Miami University of Ohio. She resides in the metro Atlanta, Georgia area with her pooch Neo and near her daughter Asia.

You can follow the author at:

Website: https://traceylampley.com

Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/tracey.lampley.12

X/Twitter: @bookmistress1

Instagram: tralam4156

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Blog Tour Calendar

August 12th @ The Muffin

Join us as we celebrate the launch of Tracey Lampley’s novel All Money Ain’t Good Money. Read an interview with the author and enter to win a copy of her book.

https://muffin.wow-womenonwriting.com

August 14th @ Words by Webb

Stop by for today’s review of All Money Ain’t Good Money – a Jinx Curry Mystery.

https://www.jodiwebbwriter.com/blog

August 16th @ My Beauty My Books

Want a fun read for the weekend? Check out the spotlight on All Money Ain’t Good Money by Tracey Lampley.

https://mybeautymybooks.com

August 17th @ Writer Advice

Novelist Tracey Lampley shares her thoughts on the value of planting a red herring.

https://www.writeradvice.com

August 19 @  Lisa Haselton’s Reviews and Interviews

Let’s take a peek at the life of an author with today’s interview of Tracey Lampley.

https://lisahaselton.com/blog

August 21st @ Chapter Break

Tracey Lampley, who writes about private investigator Jinx Curry, posts about why we all love a flawed protaganist.

Chapterbreak.net

August 22nd @ Knotty Needle

The Knotty Needle will be reviewing All Money Ain’t Good Money by Tracey Lampley.

http://knottyneedle.blogspot.com/

August 22nd @ Book Room Reviews

Stop by for a surprise guest post by Tracey Lampley, author of All Money Ain’t Good Money.

http://www.bookroomreviews.com/

August 24th @  Author Anthony Avina

Learn how Tracey Lampley made the Leap from Novella to Novel in today’s guest post plus a review of All Money Ain’t Good Money by Anthony Avina.

https://authoranthonyavinablog.wordpress.com

August 28th @ Create Write Now

In today’s spotlight, learn more about the first Jinx Curry mystery: All Money Ain’t Good Money.

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

August 30th @ Choices

Tracey Lampley, author of All Money Ain’t Good Money, is telling us the six authors she’d like to invite for a dinner party in today’s guest post.

http://madelinesharples.com

August 31st @ A Wonderful World of Words

Novelist Tracey Lampley writes about what her life was like before she began writing today at Wonderful World of Words.

https://awonderfulworldofwordsa.blogspot.com

September 3rd @ StoreyBook Reviews

Drop by for a review of All Money Ain’t Good Money by Tracey Lampley.

https://www.storeybookreviews.com

September 4th @  Author Anthony Avina

Enjoy Anthony Avina’s review of All Money Ain’t Good Money by Tracey Lampley.

https://authoranthonyavinablog.wordpress.com

September 5 @ Word Magic

Tracey Lampley, author of All Money Ain’t Good Money, is writing about life with her canine buddy Neo.

https://fionaingramauthor.blogspot.com

September 6th @ A Story Book World

Looking for a new novel? Today’s spotlight is on All Money Ain’t Good Money by Tracey Lampley.

https://www.astorybookworld.com

September 7 @ Boys’ Mom Reads!

Tracey Lampley’s All Money Ain’t Good Money is reviewed today by Karen of Boys’ Mom Reads.

https://karensiddall.wordpress.com

September 9th @ Nikki’s Book Reviews

Along with a review of All Money Ain’t Good Money, author Tracey Lampley will be posting about what she likes best about Live Sports Events. 

http://nikkitsbookreviews.wordpress.com

September 12th @ Reading Is My Remedy

Struggle with what your characters should say? Author Tracey Lampley’s guest post is about writing realistic dialogue. They’ll also be a review of her novel All Money Ain’t Good Money.

https://readingismyremedy.wordpress.com

September 14th @ That’s So Nitra

Learn the difference between Macro editing and Micro editing with the help of Tracey Lampley.

https://nenitraanna.wordpress.com

September 15th @ Boots, Shoes and Fashion

In today’s interview, learn more about Tracey Lampley, author of the first book in the Jinx Curry mystery series: All Money Ain’t Good Money.

https://bootsshoesandfashion.com

Blog Tour: You Can Save Me by R.L. Merrill

On By authoranthonyavinablogIn Blog Tours, Book EventsLeave a comment

The Playlist

For those of you who are just meeting me, hi! I’m Ro, I’m a huge music fanatic and I love to write stories inspired by the music I love. You Can Save Me is a departure of sorts from my typical hard rock/heavy metal musical vibes. It’s full of folk music, a lot of which I hadn’t listened to prior to writing this book. I’ve always been a big fan of Crosby, Stills, Nash, and Young, and I knew a lot of the hits, but I did a huge deep dive into The Mamas and Papas, including Cass Elliot’s solo music. I fell hard for Gram Parsons and The Flying Burrito Brothers. I also became a huge fan of Love, the band that would have been all the rage like their label mates The Doors if their label had been willing to market them like they did The Doors. The folk singer Melanie also passed away while I was writing this book, and I did a dive into her catalogue. I discovered so much more music to love and even bonded over a lot of the music with my son, who has very discerning tastes when it comes to music. 

Besides the Laurel Canyon documentary, I also watched Rolling Thunder Revue, which was directed by Martin Scorsese and follows Dylan and company on the road just as the US was readying to celebrate their bicentennial. Fascinating stories in that film and it gave me a greater appreciation for his music. It just so happens that Bob Dylan is coming to the Bay in August, so I’m going to see him with Willie Nelson, John Cougar Mellencamp, and a fantastic country artist, Brittney Spencer. Super excited. But I digress. There are some great songs on this list as well as some obscure ones. 

I definitely had a voice in mind when I wrote Dane’s character. I hear Jackson Browne when I think of Dane. Browne’s early career is also how I saw Dane’s. He is a brilliant songwriter and he was quite young when he joined the second wave of Laurel Canyon folk singers. He wrote the beginning of “Take It Easy” and then gave the song to Glenn Frey and Don Henley to finish for the Eagles to record. 

And just as You Can Do Magic had a theme song, I found one for this book… I’ll See You Again is a song by Noel Coward, which came out in 1929 and became a standard. The words can be interpreted as sweet…but it also has a very creepy vibe, which fit the story perfectly. 

I hope you enjoy immersing yourself in the music of You Can Save Me! Stay Tuned for more…

You Can Save Me - R.L. Merrill

R.L. Merrill has a new MM paranormal romance in the Carnival of Mysteries series, the sequel to You Can Do Magic: You Can Save Me.

Sixties folk singer Dane Donovan vanished from a desolate highway rest area in 1979. Forty years later, he’s found hitchhiking in the California desert on a cold winter’s night. He hasn’t aged a day, but the roadmap of scars he wears tells a chilling tale.

Veteran detective Walter Muse took over the case twenty years ago, but his haunting connection to Dane Donovan goes back to a peculiar run-in as a child with The Troubadour and his Talking Board at a traveling carnival. He receives a late-night call with Dane’s whereabouts and races to Laurel Canyon to see for himself whether Dane is real — or a ghost. Walter’s carefully honed detective instincts are thrown out the window when his obsession with the case turns into an undeniable attraction to the mysterious singer.

Dane is on a mission to stop a new killer hell-bent on picking up where Dane’s kidnapper left off, and Walter is determined to protect him, no matter the personal and psychological cost. They’ll have to rely on new friends and trusted colleagues as well as the power of a mystical spirit board to stop the killing, and have a chance at a real future together.

Warnings: discussion of suicide, serial killer attempted murder

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Excerpt

You Can Save Me meme - R.L. Merrill

On a dark desert highway somewhere in California, I walked alone on the dusty shoulder with a borrowed acoustic guitar strapped to my back and my sole possession tucked under my arm in a brown paper bag. I shivered as though evil was breathing down my neck, when in reality, I was the one in pursuit. The sky had a purplish hue with some storm clouds off to the north but directly above me, the stars flickered in a surreal dance.

I walked with purpose, and it was a very important one.

I’m the only one who can stop him.

I passed a sign that said Highway 58 to Mojave, and I pulled my salvaged coat tighter around my scrawny self. The ground was warm beneath my tattered boots, but the air bit into my skin like an icy monster gnashing its teeth, hungry.

I turned to look behind me and spotted headlights coming my way. It had been at least an hour since another car had passed. I stuck out my thumb, hoping they’d stop. The boots I wore were also borrowed, as were my clothes and hat. I chose them because they were the only ones in the carnival storage that were the right size and fit.

I had only one memory from before I’d started working with the traveling carnival, and it was awful enough to make your blood run cold.

The lights hurt my eyes, and my energy flagged, but I kept my thumb out. I had something important to do, and if this car didn’t slow down, I’d keep going until the next one came. Someone had to stop. How else did people get anywhere if not for thumb power?

The headlights grew nearer and were impossibly bright. I had to cover my eyes briefly as I was nearly blinded. I heard the crunch of gravel as the vehicle pulled over and coughed at the cloud of dust that rose. A door opened and a male voice called out.

“Hey, man. What are you doing out here?”<

The bright lights faded and only a set of yellow ones down low on the front of the…pickup truck were left on. It was a massive thing, jacked up high, with big tires and a shiny chrome grill.

What does it look like I’m doing? The large concrete sign with the strange name loomed in my consciousness, and though every cell in my body struggled against my purpose, I stood tall and called back, “Need a ride. To Buttonwillow.”

The truck door closed, and I saw the man’s shape pass in front of the dim lights. What was he doing getting out of his ride? I backed up a step, trying to play it cool. He wasn’t the person I was worried about.

Then the passenger door opened, and a much larger man got out.

“Ryan, don’t.”

There were two of them. I didn’t like my odds, but I had no choice. I had to get there. I had to stop…

“Forget it man, I’ll walk.”

“Wait, come back. You can’t walk that far. That’s, like, almost a hundred miles away.”

The driver came closer, but the big man stepped in between us. I reached for the guitar on my back. Maybe I could whack him with it and run away. I was pretty fast.

“Do you have any weapons?” Then the passenger barked an order at me. “Let me see under your jacket.”

“Come on, man. I just need a ride. I don’t have anything.”

The driver pushed past him. “Kal, it’s okay. Hey, kid, what’s your name?”

“Dee Dee.”

The driver held his hand out, and I shook it. “Dee Dee, I’m Ryan, and this is my husband, Kal. Damn,” he said, letting go of my hand and slapping his together, the loud crack making me jump. “I love saying that.” He turned and smiled at the large man, whose scowl seemed to lessen the slightest bit. “We just got married in Vegas.” He held up a hand and the light flashed off of his wedding band.

“Congratulations?” It came out like the question it was. How were they married? Two men? Guess they really do let anything happen in Las Vegas.

“Where’d you come from?” Kal asked, standing next to Ryan as if to protect him from me. Not sure I’d ever been seen as a threat to anyone, but I didn’t blame him for being cautious. Wish I’d had someone to look after me like that.

“Back that way. Was working at a carnival, and I needed to—”

Ryan put a hand on my chest and his eyes went wide. “Did you say carnival? Like, ‘Welcome, Traveler’ carnival?”

“How’d you know?” I tried to step back and my heel caught on a rock. I was about to go down, but Kal caught me—and then I was caught up in his gaze.

“I came from there, too,” Kal said.

And then I heard it. In my mind. Calliope music.

I’d never gone to see it. I hadn’t done much exploring. I’d only gone from my trailer to my booth and back for however long I’d been employed there. Didn’t seem long, but then, time did weird things at the carnival.

>“The Troubadour’s Talking Board,” Kal said. He gripped my arm a little tighter as he brought me back up to standing. “The booth in the arcade. I know you.”

“That’s right. That’s me. Well, it was. I left. Got something I gotta do.”

Ryan grabbed Kal’s arm. “The promise. Babe, we have to help him.”

Kal continued to stare down at me, and though he seemed good—the big man oozed honor from his pores—he was a scary guy. His hand could have wrapped around my bicep twice. Or my throat. He looked from Ryan to me, and then he let go of my arm.

“We shall help you along your path.”

Seemed like a strange way of saying “sure, we’ll give you a ride,” but I’d take it.

“Thank you.”

Ryan gestured to the truck. “Hop in.”

Kal remained at my side and when we reached the cab, he opened the front of two doors. I’d never seen a pickup with two sets of doors before. This thing was unreal.

“You ride up here,” Kal said, taking the guitar from me. “I’ll be right behind you. If you hurt my husband, I will hurt you.”

“God, Kal. That’s hot, but babe, don’t scare the kid. We promised we’d help him.”

“Promised who?” I asked as I climbed into the tall pickup. “And I’m not a kid.”

Kal shut my door after I sat, and then he climbed in. I turned my back to the door. I didn’t like having him behind me. Didn’t like anyone at my back, especially after what had happened to land me at the carnival in the first place.

“I think you know,” Kal said as Ryan started the pickup. “Ryan and I are married because someone else made a promise to help us on our path. Ryan made a promise to Mr. Ame. Now we will do the same for you.”

I’d known cats who lived together, maybe even called themselves husbands, but marriage couldn’t happen between homosexuals. This was all too much. It was like I’d left one odd place and wound up in another.

But what he said about promises put my purpose front and center in my mind.

I sighed and turned just a bit, still able to see Kal out of the corner of my eye as he sat in the middle of the backseat. He rested a hand on the seat behind Ryan’s shoulder, his fingers tangling in the man’s shoulder-length copper hair.

“Thank you for stopping,” I said before I let my eyes drift closed. I needed to rest. I would need my strength when we arrived.

“What’s in Buttonwillow?” I heard Kal ask Ryan.

“All I know about it is there’s a pair of rest stops on either side of the highway. Creepy-ass place. Every time I stop there, I’m sure a murderer is going to jump out of the bushes.”

You don’t know how right you are.

Author Bio

R.L. Merrill

Whether she’s writing contemporary romance featuring quirky and relatable characters or diving deep into the paranormal and supernatural to give readers a shiver, R.L. Merrill loves creating compelling, diverse, and inclusive stories that will stay with readers long after. Winner of the Kathryn Hayes “When Sparks Fly” Best Contemporary award for Hurricane Reese, Paranormal Romance Guild’s Best Rockstar Romance for You Can Do Magic, and Daphne DuMaurier finalist for Connection, Ro spends every spare moment improving her writing craft and striving to find that perfect balance between real-life and happily ever after.

You can find her connecting with readers on social media, advocating for America’s youth, cruising around town with Great Dane Velma, cuddling with twin black cat familiars Frankenstein and Dracula, or headbanging at a rock show near her home in the San Francisco Bay Area! Stay Tuned for more…

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

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

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

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

Author Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/9828914.R_L_Merrill

Author QueeRomance Ink: https://www.queeromanceink.com/mbm-book-author/r-l-merrill/

Author Amazon: https://www.amazon.com/stores/R.L.-Merrill/author/B00PI6Q1LI

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Journey of Seven Circles by Russell Pike 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 powerful wizard must complete a monumental spell that could cost him his life in author Russell Pike’s “Journey of Seven Circles”.

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The Synopsis

In a world chained by ancient lies, one man holds the key to its salvation — at the cost of his own life.

Kryn Darien, a wizard of unparalleled ability, stands poised to unleash a spell of unimaginable magnitude, a desperate gambit to reshape the very fabric of existence. Centuries of preparation have honed his skills and forged tools of devastating arcane might. Yet, as the moment approaches, doubt gnaws at him.

Will his sacrifices, his relentless pursuit of power, prove futile in the face of such overwhelming odds?

Once a humble priest, Kryn never sought such profound responsibility. His aspirations were simple — to serve and protect those he held dear. But fate thrusts him into a maelstrom of war, treachery, and ancient mysteries that challenge his resolve. Every step forward demands a toll more exorbitant than he ever imagined.

Across treacherous battlefields and against foes wielding deadly magic, Kryn’s journey unveils a conspiracy older than memory itself.

Amidst adversaries wielding godlike powers, he must navigate a labyrinth of impossible choices.

Yet, his unwavering commitment to aid the helpless propels him ever forward, even as the cost escalates to encompass all he holds dear.

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The Review

The author did such an incredible job of world-building in this narrative. From the book’s first chapter, readers are already immersed in this story of intrigue and magic, giving readers a glimpse at the road the protagonist will travel. The world itself was very well developed, as readers were treated to a narrative perfectly laced with imagery in the author’s writing to bring these pivotal moments and this fantastic world to life.

The protagonist’s evolution throughout the many centuries of his life and the physical and emotional toll that his experiences take on him is something the reader feels greatly throughout this novel. The scale of the story captures the essence of a great epic fantasy, and the bond and emotional connection with Kryn’s brother Adro or the line of morality and philosophy that separates Kryn from the Seraphs and Andromia all showcase the tension and conflict that drives Kryn towards his ultimate destiny.

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The Verdict

Fantastic, heartfelt, and entertaining author Russell Pike’s “Journey of Seven Circles” is a must-read epic fantasy novel. The protagonist’s emotional and grandiose journey leaves the reader enthralled and moved by the scale and world-building the author poured into this narrative. If you haven’t yet, be sure to grab your copy today!

Rating: 10/10

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About the Author

A child of the eighties, my mother gave me a copy of Robert Jordan’s Eye of the World when I was twelve, thereby introducing me to the world of epic fantasy and dooming me to countless sublime hours sojourning in worlds other than my own.

Since that first fateful day I’ve also read Anne McCaffrey, Tad Williams, Brandon Sanderson, Jim Butcher, Steven Erikson, Frank Herbert, David Farland, and more. The trouble was, I loved reading so much I decided to try my hand at writing as well.

That in and of itself wasn’t a problem, at least not until I got hooked. I realized just how dire my situation was one fall evening when my family invited me over to watch a movie. Truth be told, I can’t even recall what the movie was, only that I didn’t especially like it. However, I distinctly remember an annoyed feeling as the credits rolled, not because I hadn’t liked the film, but because I could have edited half a chapter in the time I’d wasted.

That was, perhaps, one of the most chilling moments of my life, as I realized just how deep I’d been bitten by the writing bug. But there was nothing for it but to press on. So I set to work.

Over the next ten years, I gave up on TV, movies, and all too often sleep, wringing every hour of writing I could from my schedule. During that time, it was my pleasure to meet a host of fantastic writers, editors, and artists, including David Farland, whom it was my great privilege to work with. Of course, I’d be remiss not to thank my family, who were ever supportive while I climbed this peak.

When I’m not writing, I love a good camping hike (so long as there’s enough trees to hang my hammock). I also volunteer as a sled dog handler, and I have a long standing love affair with fast cars and lonely mountain roads.

Website: http://russellpikebooks.com

Twitter: @RPikeBooks

Instagram: @russellpikebooks

Amazon: http://amzn.to/3L92IQW

Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/214871606-journey-of-seven-circles

Blog Tour: Take Some Tahini: Real Werewolves Don’t Eat Meat Book 6 by Karenna Colcroft + Excerpt

On By authoranthonyavinablogIn Blog Tours, Book EventsLeave a comment
Take Some Tahini - Karenna Colcroft

Karenna Colcroft has a new MM paranormal romance out, Real Werewolves Don’t Eat Meat book six: Tahe Some Tahini. And there’s a giveaway.

Tobias Rogan never wanted to be a leader. But here he is, the Anax of the United States, ruler of all werewolves in the country. Only two weeks after winning the rank in a challenge fight against his senile predecessor, Tobias and his mate Kyle are still adjusting to their new reality when a frantic call alerts Tobias to the massacre of nearly half the wolves in a pack in North Dakota–including the pack’s Alpha and Beta.

An investigation reveals that the wolves responsible for the attack are from Canada. Tobias reaches out to Silas Creighton, Anax of Canada, and finds someone like-minded in wanting peace between the wolves of the two countries. At Silas’s invitation, Tobias and his mate Kyle, along with their new guard Quinn Boucher, sole survivor of the North Dakota massacre, travel to Nova Scotia to put an end to the conflict between the American and Canadian werewolves. But not all wolves are interested in peace–and not all want Tobias to survive the trip.

Warnings: violence, gun violence, discussion of past sexual abuse, homophobia

About the Series

Kyle Slidell didn’t move to Boston expecting to be changed into a werewolf. But that’s what happened. He can’t control whether he shifts at the full moon, but he can damn sure continue being vegan–even in wolf form.

Tobias Rogan, Alpha of Boston North Pack, never expected to fall in love with anyone, let alone a man. A male Alpha is not supposed to have a male partner. But when he meets Kyle, he’s immediately attracted. And after Kyle is changed, Tobias realizes the truth: Kyle is not only his partner, but his mate.

The werewolf world isn’t a simple place, and Kyle and Tobias are thrown into the middle of conflict within and among the packs of the United States–a conflict that extends all the way to the top of the werewolf hierarchy. Can they and their love survive what they face?

Amazon

Giveaway

Karenna is giving away a $10 Amazon gift card with this tour:

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Excerpt

I debated knocking and decided to just try the doorknob. Kyle had better hearing than the rest of us. He knew I was here. If he didn’t want me to enter the apartment, he would have locked the door.

He hadn’t. The knob turned easily, and I pushed the door open and entered the living room that had been mine for decades.

The light in the room was off, but the kitchen light was on. I set down my bag and walked slowly into the other room. And there, I found my mate.

Seeing Kyle sitting there, at the same table in the same apartment where our relationship had grown, felt like a knife in my heart. I’d found him. But the way he looked at me almost made me wish I hadn’t. I’d never seen such pain and anger in his eyes.

His eyes mirrored my own emotions. Pain at how he’d left me, not a word to me, not even speaking to me when I reached out. Rage at being abandoned by the one person who had sworn never to do that.

I didn’t know whether to hug him or beat the shit out of him. I did neither, just stood in the doorway, fists clenched, waiting for him to fucking say something so I could.

“Hey,” he said.

“Hey.” I went toward the other chair but stopped. If I got too close to him, I might lunge across the table and strangle him. I closed my eyes just long enough to let an image of the ocean form. It didn’t calm me as much as usual, but at least it washed away the urge to hurt Kyle for hurting me. Which was good. I would never hurt Kyle.

I had before. I hadn’t meant to, but I had. And I’d sworn I never would again.

I took a deep breath and opened my eyes. “You’re here.”

“And the sky is blue, grass is green, and werewolves have fur.” He folded his arms. “You found me. Now what?”

His tone was completely flat. No anger, which would have been a good sign if he’d shown any other emotion. But there was nothing. He didn’t want me there. I could feel that through our bond, which was actually a good sign. The bond was still intact. But the way he spoke, the way he looked at me, sent my temper on the upswing again. How fucking dare he be a sarcastic asshole after what he’d done to me?

I gritted my teeth and forced another long, slow breath. “We talk. You tell me why you left, and we decide if we can fix it.”

“And if we can’t?”

“Then at least we talked to each other!” My voice rose, and I didn’t give a shit, even though Kirk could hear and probably everyone in the other two buildings could as well. “You just took off, Kyle. You didn’t say a damn thing, just took off. I was worried.” My eyes watered, and I blinked a few times as my anger ebbed. “I love you.”

“You have a weird way of showing it.” He sighed. “Sit down, would you? Unless you’re trying some Anax intimidation tactic on me.”

“I’m not.” I sat and leaned my elbows on the table. “How could you do that? How could you just leave without saying a fucking word?”

“I didn’t know what to say. You would have told me not to go. And I wouldn’t have gone. And I would have kept dealing with all that shit.”

“What shit?”

“You know.” He waved. “I’m a weakness for you. I shouldn’t exist or whatever. Those assholes back in California.”

“So you fucking walked out on me because of them?” I was so furious I was shaking. “You left as soon as I was gone. You knew you were going. You were gone by the time I called you, and you didn’t say a goddamn word. How could you do that?”

“I should have.” This time, emotion filled his tone. “I’m sorry, Tobias. I just…I needed to get the fuck out of there. And I knew you would have told me not to go. I didn’t want to do this.”

“Do what?”

“This.” He gestured toward me. “Argue. Process our feelings. I just wanted to get away from the homophobes and the memories. Living in that house…I’m guessing you have some decent memories of the place. You went there for years for the national gatherings. A couple weeks ago was my first time being there, and I spent most of the gathering in a goddamn cage, Tobias.”

I felt like he had jammed a blade into my heart. Involuntarily, I took a step back. How had I not realized? I knew all too well what trauma could do, but I hadn’t even considered how Kyle must feel waking up every single day in the place where he’d been dragged away from me and locked in a tiny basement cell.

Author Bio

Karenna Colcroft

Karenna Colcroft lives just north of Boston, Massachusetts, and has been in love with the city since childhood, though she has yet to encounter any werewolves, vampires, or other paranormal beings in her travels. At least none that she knows of.

Karenna is a polyamorous, nonbinary human who lives in Massachusetts with her husband. She also has two adult children and three “bonus” kids, four grandchildren, and two and a half cats. (Half in terms of time the cat lives with her, not in terms of the cat itself…)

Author Website: https://karennacolcroft.com

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

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

Author Amazon: https://www.amazon.com/stores/Karenna-Colcroft/author/B0031HAOUK

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EXCERPT

I debated knocking and decided to just try the doorknob. Kyle had better hearing than the rest of us. He knew I was here. If he didn’t want me to enter the apartment, he would have locked the door.

He hadn’t. The knob turned easily, and I pushed the door open and entered the living room that had been mine for decades.

The light in the room was off, but the kitchen light was on. I set down my bag and walked slowly into the other room. And there, I found my mate.

Seeing Kyle sitting there, at the same table in the same apartment where our relationship had grown, felt like a knife in my heart. I’d found him. But the way he looked at me almost made me wish I hadn’t. I’d never seen such pain and anger in his eyes.

His eyes mirrored my own emotions. Pain at how he’d left me, not a word to me, not even speaking to me when I reached out. Rage at being abandoned by the one person who had sworn never to do that.

I didn’t know whether to hug him or beat the shit out of him. I did neither, just stood in the doorway, fists clenched, waiting for him to fucking say something so I could.

“Hey,” he said.

“Hey.” I went toward the other chair but stopped. If I got too close to him, I might lunge across the table and strangle him. I closed my eyes just long enough to let an image of the ocean form. It didn’t calm me as much as usual, but at least it washed away the urge to hurt Kyle for hurting me. Which was good. I would never hurt Kyle.

I had before. I hadn’t meant to, but I had. And I’d sworn I never would again.

I took a deep breath and opened my eyes. “You’re here.”

“And the sky is blue, grass is green, and werewolves have fur.” He folded his arms. “You found me. Now what?”

His tone was completely flat. No anger, which would have been a good sign if he’d shown any other emotion. But there was nothing. He didn’t want me there. I could feel that through our bond, which was actually a good sign. The bond was still intact. But the way he spoke, the way he looked at me, sent my temper on the upswing again. How fucking dare he be so disrespectful after what he’d done to me?

I gritted my teeth and forced another long, slow breath. “We talk. You tell me why you left, and we decide if we can fix it.”

“And if we can’t?”

“Then at least we talked to each other!” My voice rose, and I didn’t give a shit, even though Kirk could hear and probably everyone in the other two buildings could as well. “You just took off, Kyle. You didn’t say a damn thing, just took off. I was worried.” My eyes watered, and I blinked a few times as my anger ebbed. “I love you.”

“You have a weird way of showing it.” He sighed. “Sit down, would you? Unless you’re trying some Anax intimidation tactic on me.”

“I’m not.” I sat and leaned my elbows on the table. “How could you do that? How could you just leave without saying a fucking word?”

“I didn’t know what to say. You would have told me not to go. And I wouldn’t have gone. And I would have kept dealing with all that shit.”

“What shit?”

“You know.” He waved. “I’m a weakness for you. I shouldn’t exist or whatever. Those fucknuggets back in California.”

“So you fucking walked out on me because of them?” I was so furious I was shaking. “You left as soon as I was gone. You knew you were going. You were gone by the time I called you, and you didn’t say a goddamn word. How could you do that?”

“I should have.” This time, emotion filled his tone. “I’m sorry, Tobias. I just…I needed to get the fuck out of there. And I knew you would have told me not to go. I didn’t want to do this.”

“Do what?”

“This.” He gestured toward me. “Argue. Process our feelings. I just wanted to get away from the homophobes and the memories. Living in that house…I’m guessing you have some decent memories of the place. You went there for years for the national gatherings. A couple weeks ago was my first time being there, and I spent most of the gathering in a goddamn cage, Tobias.”