BLOG TOUR: THE NEW WORLD (THE NEW WORLDS TRILOGY BOOK 1) BY JAYE C WATTS + EXCERPT

On December 18, 2025December 15, 2025 By authoranthonyavinablogIn Blog Tours, Book EventsLeave a comment

Jaye C. Watts has a new queer sci-fi book out (transgender, poly, non-binary, pansexual, lesbian): The New Worlds.

The year is 2293 and the Truth no longer exists. In the future there are many truths, giving rise to many worlds, but each must be kept separate.

Born to protect these truths, Axton Bryce patrols the New Worlds Star System—to observe, participate, and gather information. But as she learns the ways of each world, she must also hunt for those who defy their world’s truth: the Outliers.

While stationed on a nearby planet, Axton meets the charming Ambassador Bray Wilde. As the two become close, Axton reveals a painful secret—the loss of her first love, exiled as an Outlier.

Longing to see beyond their own world, the ambassador proposes a rescue mission—one that will bring both friends and foes, and ultimately a fight for freedom. But first, Axton must make a choice: between a life-long allegiance… and the chance to claim a truth of her own.

Warnings: indoctrination, brainwashing, threatening with a weapon (guns & a bomb)

Universal Buy Link

Excerpt

I clenched my fists. “Focus,” I told myself. Grabbing my communication cuff, I fastened it around my wrist. “INS communications, activate.” I opened my wardrobe and reached for a freshly pressed uniform. “Aurelia, give me today’s briefing.”

It lit up and responded. “Your next assignment will be on the Amorous World for a standard duration of three months. You are scheduled to depart today at zero six hundred Geo Time and arrive at zero eight-forty Geo Time. The latest reports on the Amorous World are available for your review. Do you wish to accept, Mediator Axton Bryce?”

I crouched to lace up my boots. “I accept.”

“On behalf of Chairman West and the Individual Nations Secretariat, we thank you, Mediator Axton Bryce, for your work in protecting the Truth of many truths.”

I rose to my feet, skin prickling at the back of my neck. Though I couldn’t see it, I could feel it: two lowercase t’s under one capital T, branded at the top of my spine—a permanent part of me ever since my Veneration five long years ago.

I reached back, digging my nails in, tempted to tear the tattoo right from my skin. “She should have been there,” I whispered. If only she’d kept those thoughts to herself.

I grabbed my utility belt and wrapped it around my waist, ensuring the gun was secure. Staring at myself in the mirror, I straightened the collar of my shirt. I’d never been to the Amorous World before. Perfect, I thought. Some fresh scenery was just what I needed.

* * *

I checked my cuff—zero five fifty-five, right on schedule. Marching across the launch deck, I carried one efficiently packed piece of luggage. I never glanced back when boarding my ship; Brokazaria’s endless acres of skyscrapers would still be here when I returned. Instead, I looked up. The early-morning sky was just waking. Aside from Primus B—the Middle World’s secondary, and thus miniature, sun—not a star was in sight. As I approached my ship, the roar of its engine reminded me that soon the stars would be all around me.

I turned and gave the official salute to a line of NI Security standing at attention. In unison, the humanlike Machines returned the gesture, crossing their arms to form a lowercase letter t. Sergeant L43 pumped his eyebrows, prompting me to raise one of mine in response. Hard to believe they were once called “AI.” New Intelligence, we were told, was a much more appropriate term.

L43 stepped forward. “Afternoon, miss.” He grabbed my bag, allowing me to ascend the ladder.

“Thanks,” I said. I climbed to the top and crawled through the hatch.

“Catch!” the NI yelled, tossing up my luggage.

With a reflex just quick enough, I caught the bag. “Sergeant!” I scolded. “What if there was something fragile in there?”

“You humans,” he replied. “Always afraid something’s gonna break. Your luggage, your bones, your bodies… not to mention your hearts and minds.”

I rolled my eyes at the cheeky Machine. “Watch it, L, or I’ll get them to reboot you.”

Unperturbed, the Machine grinned and waved. “I’ll miss you, too. Bon voyage!”

“See you in three months,” I muttered, closing the hatch behind me. I immediately got busy flicking switches and hitting buttons. Muscle memory took over as I continued the launch prep with complete focus. Not a moment later, a blue light illuminated my cuff, drawing my attention. Blue indicated a direct message from Chairman West himself, Secretary-General of the Individual Nations Secretariat.

“Play address,” I said, eager to hear our leader’s words.

A ghostlike image projected from my arm, transporting the man’s titanic figure into my control room. Neatly trimmed grays blended inconspicuously into the rest of his dark hair, swept back to frame a chiseled face. Salt-and-pepper stubble outlined a pair of smiling lips—the beginnings of a goatee that never quite came to fruition. As always, a perfectly pressed suit hugged every one of his bulging muscles.

“Greetings, my children!” The chairman’s voice rumbled from a gaping grin, complete with gleaming teeth. “Today is a very special day, not only for the New Worlds Star System but for some of our most dedicated Mediators.”

My ears perked up as I waited for more.

“Today marks two hundred and fifty years of living in an interplanetary alliance, free from the terrors of war, safe from the dangers of Plurality! A quarter of a millennium since the United Nations of the Old World became the Individual Nations of the New Worlds, marking humanity’s Great Dispersion!”

A swell of pride surged in my chest. I was part of something big and important.

“All of this would not be possible without you,” he declared, “our magnificent Mediators. You have been instrumental in our coordination with each world, fostering the cooperation necessary to manage the complexities of a resource-based economy spanning a system as vast as ours. And!”—the chairman raised a finger, flashing one of his many gold rings—“most importantly, you have upheld the sovereignty of every truth within it.”

I gave a humble nod, as though he could see me.

“Lastly,” the chairman said, “further congratulations to the Mediators of unit 245. Tomorrow is your quinquennium! Five years of serving as peacekeepers, saviors, Mediators! Father Chairman West and the INS commend you.” His thick forearms crossed in a salute, only to vanish as the feed cut out.

I took a moment to absorb his words, stunned by how many years had passed. Then I checked my cuff—Time to go.

I finished preparing for the launch, my movements steady and certain. We had done it. Peace among the planets for over two centuries.

I paused, letting my mind drift…

It had to be worth it.

Author Bio

JAYE C. WATTS (he/they) is a queer and trans sci-fi writer living on Lək̓ʷəŋən territory in Victoria, BC, Canada. He holds a bachelor’s degree in Sociology, with a minor in Technology and Society, as well as a diploma in Professional Recording Arts from the Art Institute of Vancouver.

When he isn’t writing, Jaye can be found falling down rabbit holes of all kinds thanks to an unquenchable curiosity and lust for learning – homeschooling will do that to you.

Jaye also loves classic jazz, mixing cocktails, biking all over the city, and of course, people watching.

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

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

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

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

Author Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/user/show/156707355-jaye-c-watts

Author Amazon: https://www.amazon.com/stores/Jaye-C.-Watts/author/B0FVL8XMKW

Now please enjoy this excerpt for The New Worlds

The Center loomed before us, a giant, shimmering pearl nestled in the middle of the donut-shaped university.

Trapp halted at the edge of the surrounding lawn, flicking off his headlamp. The rest of us gathered behind him, staring in awe at the breathtaking view.

I’d seen the landmark before, but only during the day. At night, the shining sphere transformed into something otherworldly. To the people of the Quantified World, the Center was akin to a giant crystal ball—all-knowing and all-powerful. I took in the dazzling show, watching its ethereal light cascade across the reflective solar panels covering the surrounding university.

“Whoa,” Bray whispered, their voice reverent.

“Good golly,” Logan uttered.

Medallia didn’t speak, only inhaled deeply through her

nose. Trapp released a satisfied exhale, his shoulders relaxing for the first time all night.

I stood silent, shaking my head in disbelief at how damn lucky we were. Lucky to have made it this far but also lucky this mesmerizing display continued through the night. Strange, given the fact that no one—aside from the occasional NI and rogue Outlier—was awake to see it.

Then again, this was more than just a machine.

I almost felt hypnotized by the swirling neon patterns, their movements dictated by aesthetic algorithms. For the first time, I understood why so many worshipped this construct. Numbers weren’t just functional; they could also be beautiful.

With the rest of the world fast asleep, the omniscient sphere drew me in. Heart rates, body temperatures, brain waves, even dream activity, all coming together in a colorful symphony of light.

“All this,” I marveled aloud, “from a bunch of ones and zeros.”

Bray turned to me, furrowing their brow. “Ones and zeros?”

I turned to meet their gaze. “Oh, um… I was referring to binary code.”

Their forehead crinkled even more.

“It’s a type of language,” I explained. “For computers. But not with words, just numbers. Ones and—” I stopped myself, and instead summarized. “It’s… technology stuff.”

Bray lifted their chin, acknowledging my poor attempt at clarification before turning back to the glowing orb. Any explanation involving the “t word,” as they called it, received little more than a placating nod from them.

Without warning, Trapp began tromping across the lawn, his patience for sightseeing all used up.

Logan and Medallia followed suit as I nudged Bray into motion before bringing up the rear.

As we walked, the sphere’s light continued to play across the grass. I couldn’t shake the feeling that this was the calm before the storm; a sense of peace coated the atmosphere, even as it charged with unimaginable possibilities. So close, I thought, and yet still so far. Hard to believe we were mere steps from Trapp’s door through time, while our final destination lay light-years away.

Our footsteps left faint trails in the dew-coated grass, leading us to a set of doors. Trapp pressed his thumb against a small black scanner embedded in the frame. After a brief pause, the device beeped, unlocking with a soft click.

Amused, Trapp wiggled the digits on his right hand and muttered, “Guess they should’ve taken my fingers, too.”

Once inside, Trapp reactivated his headlamp. The spot‐light beamed down the curved hallway, casting skittish shadows across classroom doors. The walls on either side displayed an array of infographics: pies, bars, bubbles, grids and graphs—statistical analyses whose end results were surprisingly artistic.

While trying to decipher some of the informative shapes, a low-pitched hum caught my attention.

I turned my head toward the sound. Emerging from the shadows was a clunky bot, its movements slow and methodical. The machine hugged the wall as it moved, resembling a lumbering mechanical rodent.

Beside me, Bray flinched, their body jolting as if startled by a wild animal. Their wide eyes darted toward me, like a child searching for guidance in their parent’s reaction.

“It’s okay,” I said. “It’s just a robot”—a word I would never use on the Machine World. “It’s governed by preprogrammed instructions, which look to be nothing more than tidying up.” I lifted my boots, one after the other, hoping we hadn’t tracked in any mud.

Bray’s gaze returned to the machine, their fear giving way to tentative curiosity. While they kept a safe distance, Logan stepped closer, crouching to greet the bot.

“Well, hello there, little fella,” he said, grinning.

“Cleaning in progress,” the bot replied “flatly. “Step aside please.”

Logan chuckled, rejoining us as we continued down the hallway. He spun slowly, taking in everything the dim light allowed. “So these were your ol’ stomping grounds, eh, Trapp?”

“If by ‘stomping grounds’ you mean where I learned how to transcend time and space,” Trapp replied, “then yes.”

Bray cast one last glance back at the retreating bot before asking, “Were you a teacher here?”

“I was primarily a researcher,” Trapp said. “I only taught to gain access to the labs. I’d much rather make new discoveries than teach others about old ones.”

Trapp came to a sudden halt, stopping so abruptly Bray nearly bumped into him. Turning his head, he lit up a windowless metal door with a sign stating its purpose:

PARTICLE PHYSICS LAB RESTRICTED ACCESS

Trapp smiled with his eyes. “We’re close now,” he said, his words laced with determination. “Just a few more steps.” He pressed his thumb against the small scanner to his right, unlocking the door to a new world… an old world, rather.

The Old World.

BLOG TOUR: THE SPELLBINDING MAGIC OF YOU AND ME (THE MAGICALS ALLIANCE BOOK 3) BY TIMOTEO TONG

On October 22, 2025October 21, 2025 By authoranthonyavinablogIn Blog Tours, Book Events, Book PromotionLeave a comment

Timoteo Tong has a new fantasy/sci-fi book out, The Magicals Alliance book 3: The Spellbinding Magic of You and Me.

Magic, monsters, and a boy who never asked to be chosen.

Sixteen-year-old Santangelo Lo Geffo is drowning in grief. After his mother’s sudden death and his father’s emotional disappearance, he’s convinced the world has forgotten him—until his childhood best friend, Joshua “Neeky” Tang, shows up out of nowhere, charming, bold, and full of secrets. Their reunion reignites buried feelings and a bond stronger than fate.

But something darker stirs in the magical underworld known as the Gloom. A cursed sword has chosen Santangelo, and with it, the wrath of the ancient queen Máu Rabetica, who will stop at nothing to reclaim her power. With monsters closing in and war looming, Santangelo must train under the brutal God of War, survive attacks from rival covens, and navigate a tangled web of family secrets.

Worse, his heart’s a mess. He’s caught between his feelings for Neeky—the boy who’s always been there—and Daccio Scala, a flirtatious magical fighter who makes his pulse race. As the walls close in, a glam-pop sorceress with a hidden agenda sets her sights on Santangelo and the blade, forcing him to choose between destiny and desire… or risk losing both.

Warnings: Grief, violence, monsters, emotional trauma, light romantic tension

Universal Buy Link | Amazon

About the Series:

What if your wealthy, glamorous family was secretly saving the world?

Welcome to the world of The Magicals Alliance, a spellbinding YA fantasy series that follows the powerful—and complicated—Delomary family. By day, they’re media moguls, philanthropists, and the faces of a global empire. But behind closed doors, they’re something much more dangerous: the last line of defense against monsters, magic, and total annihilation.

In a hidden war where Vampires, Werewolves, and dark forces threaten to tip the balance between worlds, the Delomarys stand at the center of it all—armed with secrets, ancient power, and a whole lot of emotional baggage.

Dive into a world of romance, rebellion, queer joy, and jaw-dropping magic as each book follows teens on the front lines of a battle that could destroy everything.

Universal Links For All Three Books:

Magic, Monsters & Me | Resurrecting My Magic | The Spellbinding Magic of You and Me

Excerpt

“Dammit, Bello!” Pops shouted from the front of the house.

I blinked awake. The drapes hung limp. The air in my room was warm and stale. My door stood open a crack. Che was gone.

“You have a visitor! Come downstairs—I’m making breakfast.”

I sat up, rubbed sleep from my eyes. The clock blinked 9:15. Pops was an early riser; I took after Mom and liked to sleep in.

“Coming!” I yelled back in Italian. I hated being woken before eleven.

I threw on a T-shirt and shorts, padded down the hall, and swung around the banister. At the bottom of the stairs, I froze. A shadow stood framed in the screen door to the verandah.

A tall boy with long black hair and glasses shifted from foot to foot, holding a cake like it might explode. He looked anxious and impossibly familiar.

“Open the door!” Pops barked. “Senlàpso!”

I opened the screen and stopped breathing. Joshua Tang—Josh—only not the kid I remembered. Taller now. Stronger. His smile hit me like a hammer.

“Santangelo!” he said. “Guess what? I just moved back to Burbank.”

We weren’t really friends anymore. So why was he acting like we were?

“Bello! Don’t be rude.” Pops’ voice snapped me awake.

“Oh. Hi, Josh.”

“Josh?” He tilted his head, eyes bright through his glasses. “That’s not my name.”

“Neeky,” he said.

The name clanged through me. I looked up—he towered over me now.

“Gosh,” he said, grinning, “you’re short. No growth spurt yet?”

“Yeah, well, you’re a giant.”

“Ah, yes,” Neeky said, blazing like midday sun, “that I am.”

“Come in. Let me take that cake.”

“Mom made it. It’s one of three things she can cook—scrambled eggs, soufflé, and carrot cake. Your favorite, Santy.” He handed it to Pops.

I stared. Three years gone, and suddenly he was here, filling our kitchen with noise and light.

“We moved back to the City of Angels,” Neeky said, sliding onto a stool while Pops poured juice. “Mom got a job at JPL.”

Pops’ eyebrows lifted. “Is that so? I didn’t know Susannah was a scientist.”

“She went back for her degree after… well, anyway. Now she’s a scientist.” Neeky bit into an apple like he’d never left.

He always made himself at home—shoes off, elbows out, comfortable like the world was his.

“That’s great, Josh,” I said automatically.

“Neeky, Mister Lo Geffo.” They shook hands like executives.

“Pops.”

Neeky turned to me. “Aren’t you going to sit?”

I climbed onto a stool across from him. Not too close. Not yet.

“I missed this place,” he said. “Always so homey. Our new house isn’t. Mom hates rugs and knick-knacks. Says they collect dust. She’s clueless.”

He talked like he’d been gone a day, not years. I wasn’t ready to pick up where we’d left off. Too much gnawed at me—things I couldn’t explain. Maybe he’d forgotten. That was like him. Pops and Neeky were both Leos: loud, sunny, terrible memories. I remembered everything—a curse.

“I’m taking Che for a run,” I muttered.

“We have a guest!” Pops shot me a glare sharp enough to petrify.

Neeky stood. “It’s fine, Pops. I have to help Mom decorate. She can’t do that alone.” He grinned, glowing like he carried his own weather. “Let’s hang out. I’m right across the street—the other old house on the block.”

He bounded down the porch steps, taking the golden light and jasmine air with him. Pops tucked the cake in the fridge. I called for Che.

“Time for a walk, Growlvara!”

Paws on wood, then Che trotted up, leash in his mouth. I knelt to rub his fur, grounding myself in his steady warmth.

Outside, a breeze stirred.

“Why did Josh move back?” I asked the air.

The wind ruffled my hair. “Neeky is his name.”

I frowned. “How do you know that?”

“I know everything.”

“You should be friends with him again,” it whispered.

“I don’t need friends. I have my cousins. And you. And Che.”

“Best friends are important,” the wind said. “Human friends.”

“I don’t want a best friend. It’s dangerous.”

“Why?”

“When you love someone, they leave.”

“Your mom didn’t leave you—not intentionally.”

“Shut up.”

“You held Neeky’s hand in kindergarten when he was scared. You were a good friend.”

And suddenly I was there again: first day of school. A small boy clung to his mother, sobbing. She left him, and he collapsed into the seat beside me, eyes red. I reached for his hand.

“You’ll be okay,” I’d said.

“You do?” he’d sniffled when I told him I liked building blocks too.

“Sure. I’ll hold your hand until you feel better.”

He had smiled through tears. “Best friends?”

“Sure,” I said.

Years later, under the olive trees, he kissed my cheek. I’d liked him back, though I had no words for it. Maybe that was why I ended things. Fear.

Now he was across the street again, and I felt a small, stupid happiness I didn’t want to admit.

Stop it, I told myself. I’m a loner. I don’t need friends. I have Che and Pops, even if Pops felt half-ghost most days.

Neeky paused on the sidewalk, looking back. Our eyes met, and the air stretched thin between us.

“Later?” he called.

My throat betrayed me. “Later.”

The wind laughed softly, and the house held its breath.

Author Bio

Timoteo Tong grew up in Burbank, CA, imagining epic battles against vampires and witches inside creaky old mansions—and hasn’t stopped dreaming since. He wrote his first book at age eight (a chaotic romance between a stuffed cocker spaniel and a duck) and never looked back. Inspired by the magic of L. Frank Baum, C.S. Lewis, and J.R.R. Tolkien, Timoteo now lives in San Francisco with his husband, where he writes stories full of queer magic, found family, and monsters that don’t play fair. When he’s not reading, writing, or daydreaming about flying, you can find him surrounded by houseplants, doing pushups between chapters, and always down for donuts.

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

Author Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/timoteo.tong

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

Author Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/34837913.Timoteo_Tong

Author Amazon: https://www.amazon.com/stores/Timoteo-Tong/author/B0C7JVD1H7

Guest Post

Building Magic in the Real World

By Timoteo Tong, Author of The Magicals Alliance Series

When most people picture Los Angeles, they think of Hollywood, palm trees, and endless sunshine. For me, though, Los Angeles has always shimmered with something more—something unseen, humming just beneath the pavement and echoing through the canyons. When I set out to write *The Magicals Alliance Series*, I wanted to take that “something more” and bring it to life.

Urban fantasy often asks: *What if magic exists right here, in the places we know best?* My answer was to build a universe where freeways double as ley lines, storm drains hide crypts of forgotten gods, and a drizzle of rain in the middle of summer might just signal divine intervention.

But why LA? Because it’s personal. I grew up wandering through Burbank, hiking in the Santa Monica Mountains, and staring out over the Griffith Observatory at the city lights. Those were the places where I daydreamed as a teen, and in my books, they become battlefields, sanctuaries, and portals to other realms. Every landmark holds a secret: MacArthur Park once turned to ink during a magical breach; the Sixth Street Bridge cracked open to reveal a curse-tree; and in *The Spellbinding Magic of You and Me*, Santangelo Lo Geffo finds himself running the very same streets I once did.

Blending real geography with fantasy lore means readers can feel grounded even as they encounter the impossible. It’s one thing to imagine a dragon’s den—but what if that den is hidden beneath downtown? What if your local park is also the site of a forgotten covenant? That interplay between the ordinary and extraordinary creates a world that feels alive, like magic could be hiding just around the corner.

Another key to my worldbuilding is history. *The Last Battle*, fought in Los Angeles 120 years before the events of the books, was my way of giving the city a magical “past life.” I asked myself: what if the clashes of gods and monsters weren’t just myths, but part of modern history erased from memory? That decision means LA isn’t just a backdrop—it’s a character with scars, secrets, and stories of its own.

Of course, worldbuilding is only half the story. It’s the *people* in this magical LA who bring it to life. Characters like Santangelo struggle not just against monsters, but against grief, identity, and the weight of expectation. To me, that’s what makes the magic believable: no matter how dazzling or terrifying, it’s always tied to human emotion. A golden sword forged on Mount Olympus isn’t just a weapon; it’s also a symbol of Santy’s courage, his mother’s love, and his destiny.

In the end, building magic into the real world is about wonder—but it’s also about connection. I want readers to finish my books and look at their own streets, parks, and neighborhoods differently. Maybe the shadows really do stretch too long at dusk. Maybe the rain is whispering secrets. Maybe, just maybe, there’s more to the world than what we see.

That’s the heart of *The Magicals Alliance Series*: ordinary teens navigating extraordinary magic in the places we know best. Because magic, like love and grief, isn’t something far away—it’s right here, waiting to be found.

Timoteo Tong is the author of The Magicals Alliance Series, a YA queer fantasy saga set in modern-day California.
When not writing about magical battles and golden swords, Timoteo enjoys exploring local coffee shops, spending time with family,
and dreaming up new ways to bring enchantment into everyday life.

OWI Cover Reveal: Captains of Oartheca by James Siewert

On October 19, 2025October 18, 2025 By authoranthonyavinablogIn Blog Tours, Book Events, Book PromotionLeave a comment

James Siewert has a new MM sci-fantasy romance coming out on November 9th, Oarthecan Star Saga book 3: Captains of Oartheca – and we have the cover reveal.

Welcome to Oartheca—a world of shattered beauty and stolen futures.

Where noble Barons rule with ironclad grace, and loyal drones unquestionably obey. A wounded world, rich with history and pride, struggling to heal… while war still smoulders at its edges.

Hoping to change the fate of all Oarthecans, Captain Rowland Hale II and Toar Grithrawrscion embark on a mission as herculean as it is perilous: to bring Oartheca under the aegis of the Coalition of Allied Planets, and in doing so, usher in a new era of strength, stability, and peace.

But nothing on Oartheca is so easily won. Not peace. Not unity. And certainly not the truth.

In Captains of Oartheca, James Siewert sees our heroes challenge empires, defy impossible odds, and confront the terrible cost of hope. But when victory demands everything they are—and all they have—can they pay the price?

Warnings: Explicit sex scenes between consenting adult males

About the Series

An action-oriented, sci-fi extravaganza staring heroes who battle vicious foes, overcome galactic obstacles, find true love, all while just happening to be men-who-love-men. For adults only, the Oarthecan Star Saga will thrill readers with cinematic battles, daring romances and authentic, one-of-a-kind characters that rise to face challenges through bravery, courage and loyalty.

Preorder on Amazon | Universal Buy Link

Excerpt

Get the hell off me!’ I shout angrily, futilely pushing at the rhino of a man smothering me. Goddamn he’s heavy but I’m giving it everything I’ve got, trying to wriggle free. I manage to get my head out from under the behemoth and turn to try and see what the hell is going on.

‘Stay down, Baron!’ the security guard overtop of me orders, his voice hard and urgent. There’s another bright green flash, and this time I see a plasma shot streak harmlessly into the skies, followed soon by more yelling and the sounds of intense struggle.

Annoyingly, cyan telemetry floods my cybernetic ocular display—suit’s integrity is down to ninety-two percent, but no injuries, and my shields are regenerating. That shot was a point-blank, direct hit. Thank God for top-tier CAPS engineering—anything less, and I’d be dead.

‘No!’ I hear a man yell. ‘No, he killed my brother!’

What?

‘Evacuate, evacuate!’ a stronger voice booms, and the man over top of me begins to ease up slightly; I immediately scoot out from under him and try to get a decent look around.

There’s a pile of security guards clustered together—it looks like there are three of them surrounding a fourth, having driven him to his knees. One is wrenching the kneeling man’s rifle from his hands, but the man is not letting go anytime soon. It takes the butt of another security guard’s rifle being driven into the side of his head before his grip finally weakens, and the gun is wrenched free.

The rhino then steps in front of me, blocking my view of the struggling men. I scowl and try to push him out of the way, but this guy’s a stormcoat, maybe a snowcoat, and I don’t even budge him a centimetre.

‘This way, Baron. Now,’ He pushes into me, using his superior bulk to knock me back. With one hand on my shoulder, he spins me around so that I’m facing away from the scene.

‘Where is Ton?’ I demand, trying to slip this guy’s grasp but his grip on my shoulder is firm—not painful, thanks to my exosuit’s kinetic absorption—but I’m not getting free unless I put up a serious struggle, which I don’t think is the wisest of things to do right now.

‘We’ll meet at the safe-point. Hurry, Baron, straight ahead,’ the rhino orders, and I follow as he steers me deeper into the docking bay. He sets a brisk pace—nearly a jog—we’re moving fast. A tug on my shoulder turns me left toward an open corridor, where two guards stand ready, rifles raised and scanning.

‘Inside, Baron.’ I’m not used to being manhandled like this, but I know if this dude wanted to, he could pick me up like an infant. He’s at least letting me move under my own power, so I do as I’m told, and head into the corridor.

We head down a gently sloping, well-lit cement tunnel—hopefully toward the safe-point rhino-guy mentioned. He’s stopped steering me, but with only one path ahead, we keep moving. After about thirty seconds, a circular portal sealed by sliding doors appears and opens as we approach.

‘Through the doors, Baron,’ my escort says. I step into the next tunnel, and he follows, tapping commands into a wall-mounted keypad. The doors slide shut behind us, leaving me to figure out what comes next.

The security guard then turns to face me, placing his hand over his heart, his fingers splayed, and gives me a deep bow. ‘We are secured now, Baron. The safe-point is just down this hall.’

‘Thank you,’ I reply genuinely. ‘I prefer Captain Hale, however. What’s your name, officer?’

‘Second Lieutenant Crahlstran Grithrawrclan, OSS Navy, Captain Hale,’ the man answers. ‘I’ve been assigned to you as your personal security representative. Are you injured?’

I immediately shake my head. ‘No, my suit took the damage. I’m fine. Where is m’Ton? Or the High Baron Grithrawr?’

‘At or en route to the safe-point. Please, if you will follow me, Captain,’ Crahl offers, extending his hand down the new corridor. With him leading the way, I follow as we descend further, until we reach another set of closed sliding doors. Crahl enters a command on the keypad, and they open. He stands aside to allow me to enter first.

Author Bio

James and his husband live in beautiful British Columbia, Canada. Part-time office drone, part-time storyteller, full-time sci-fi and fantasy enthusiast (and some spooky ghost tales), James couldn’t find enough stories involving guys like him and his hubby are: big men with big hearts, full of big ideas!

Taking matters into his own hand, James seeks to share high adventure, low-angst stories where the heroes are solid blokes who take centre stage. Come join the adventure and explore bold new worlds full of authentic characters, gripping scenes, lush imagination and a touch of mushy stuff – there’s a whole galaxy waiting for you to discover!

Author Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/21531168.James_Siewert

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

Author Amazon: https://www.amazon.com/stores/James-Siewert/author/B095T25ZSB

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

On September 16, 2024September 16, 2024 By authoranthonyavinablogIn Blog Tours, Book Events, Guest PostLeave a comment

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:

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

Direct Link: http://www.rafflecopter.com/rafl/display/b60e8d47317/?

Excerpt

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 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

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 September 8, 2024September 8, 2024 By authoranthonyavinablogIn Blog Tours, Book Events, Book PromotionLeave a comment

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:

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

Excerpt

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 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

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.

BLOG TOUR: Spark and Tether by Lilian Zenzi

On February 4, 2024 By authoranthonyavinablogIn Blog Tours, Book EventsLeave a comment

Lilian Zenzi has a new queer sci-fi romance out (nonbinary/pan/queer/gender-fluid): Spark & Tether.

Working odd jobs across the Outer Ring gets a little lonely sometimes—not everyone loves having a synchronist with supraliminal perception around. But all Sacheri wants, he tells himself, is to wander the stars.

Then he takes a salvage run to an abandoned moon where he meets the wry, reserved, strictly-by-the-rules archivist Jin. Mesmerized by their confidence and charm, Sacheri can’t resist showing off his abilities–and instead of the damaged ai he was tracking, he stumbles onto a signal left by a synchronist who went missing decades earlier.

Sacheri knows from previous experience that pursuing the truth—never mind justice—could destroy everything he loves. He would defy his employers, the institution responsible for the myconeural networks that make him a synchronist, and the leadership of several worlds.

And it would complicate his new, passionate, and impossibly sweet relationship with Jin. They might be the best thing that’s ever happened to him, but they work for the very entities that ended Sacheri’s last investigation.

He knows better than to risk it.

But he’s never been able to turn away from someone in need, and there’s a voice in the void calling for aid…

Universal Buy Link

Excerpt

PROLOGUE

Orinus Station, present day

Sacheri woke with a shiver in his nerves tracing his limbs like a lit fuse.

His synplants drew his awareness out into the station, into the whisper of leaves and the low hum of the machines, endlessly seeking. He had no solace to offer them, so he tried to sleep through it. Maybe inebriant would douse the burn; he’d have to find one, which meant leaving bed… but then, a walk might also help. The drink could keep him company on the return.

There was a certain maudlin poetry to wandering with the ghosts of memory, anyway.

He regretted his choices before he could finish the first bottle.

The empty corridors echoed, even the ones with lush vine-planted walls, fully surrounded by sound-absorbent tiling. The unsteady sound of his steps reminded him of less lonely times; the chatter of more populated halls made him sad. His synplants cleansed the inebriant from his system faster than he could drink, so he diminished them, set a timer on his standard implant, and ducked into a maintenance corridor, heading for the lifts that would return him to his temp residence.

He’d forgotten how many ghosts were in his head.

He drank more.

He passed through too many familiar places, muttering curses to himself about the council for bringing him to Orinus Station in the first place. He should have departed with Paradis, gone away to her fancy little moon, where he could wallow in heartbreak on a lakeside beach while she teased him about his lack of ambition. She’d have been careful not to remind him of anything—anyone—else.

Three more nights until he left for Elysia, into the far reaches of the Outer Rings, away from the myriad reminders, the constant calling of what should have been, all of his aching regrets.

He avoided the halls that would have taken him past Paradis’s private suites and the memories lying in wait for him there, and then he wandered past the next set of lifts, because it was what he and Jin had always done: long walks and quiet talks, so close their shoulders touched, their bell-clear, mesmerizing voice low and loving. He tried not to think about how much he missed them, and, failing that, tried not to think at all.

He trudged along, hugging the shadows at the edges of the walkways, arms heavy at his sides, until it was late enough that he could reasonably hope to get a lift to himself, and he had some hope of sleeping. The only humans he’d passed in maintenance took no notice of him, which was the whole point of using the back ways. But they might make small talk if they found him alone in a lift car, or, stars forbid, they might ask if he was okay.

And then what was he supposed to do? Cry on them? Tell them to mind their own business? Explain how he helped bring something like justice to a few long-forgotten synchronists and how much it took from him? Or should he ask if they’d seen a certain lithe, black-haired investigator for the Council of the Outer Rings anywhere nearby? His eyes burned from both the inebriant and the exhaustion and the constant threat of tears. He wanted to sleep until the transport to Elysia was ready.

The bottle was empty, but he wasn’t ready to let it go; he thought he might sleep better with it nearby, just for company, even if the synplants wiped all traces of the inebriant from his system. He leaned against the rounded corner of the lift alcove, one heel against the wall to hold him steady, arms crossed over his chest, bottle dangling loosely from the fingers of his right hand.

His luck almost held.

Author Bio

Lilian Zenzi writes science fiction and fantasy, sometimes with romance and usually in queer normative worlds. Genre agnostic as a writer and a reader, she likes to keep space for comfort, hope, and joy along with the kissing, conflict, and big ideas. She resents having to write a bio and would rather be in the garden or making art.

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

Author Facebook (Personal): https://www.facebook.com/profile.php?id=100093325026648

Author Facebook (Author Page): https://www.facebook.com/profile.php?id=100093193813533

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

EXCERPT

Sacheri looked back at the dancers and found Jin had been watching him from the bar on the other side of the floor; once Adda was out of sight, they returned to the table with a fresh drink in hand. Sacheri liked their eyes on him, and didn’t want to interrupt it, and thought it had maybe become a game to see which of them would speak first. And so they ended up staring at each other from across the table for a good long moment before Sacheri broke it with a fresh grin.

He’d never been that good at games. “I don’t think I’m your first synchronist, am I?”

Jin’s answer was a quiet chuckle, clear and rich and magnetic as the rest of them, but they held his gaze without a trace of self-consciousness. Their eyes were flecked with amber and citrine, a starburst in the warm brown.

Uh-oh, Sacheri thought. Everything about them was charming, even if he would never understand their obvious dedication to rule-following. Again, like a kid with his first crush. He wasn’t sure if he should be preening or posturing or pleading for another wink, another whisper, any vague hint of interest.

“I don’t flirt on runs,” Jin said finally, in a tone like a caress— so soft and intimate that it raised the hairs on Sacheri’s arms and neck. They looked away from him. “It stays entirely professional until the job is complete and in the archives.”

There it was. Sacheri nodded, more pained than he wished to admit.

Jin glanced out at the dance floor before turning back to him. “I just wanted to be clear about that. And that you shouldn’t be discouraged.”

The disappointed pang in his chest flipped immediately to fizzing. He could not read them, he realized; he got it wrong, every time, even unguarded as they were, and that was somehow as magnetic as all the rest. He held Jin’s eyes and gave them a sly smile. “I appreciate that,” he said.

Umair reappeared at the end of the table between them. “Your friends from earlier are requesting another dance,” he said to Sacheri.

“Umair will drag you out there if you try to refuse,” Jin said, lifting their liquor to take a slow sip.

“And what are you going to do?” Sacheri asked, with a grin that held just enough dare to be serious.

Jin’s answering smile was slow and deliberate. “I’ll watch.”

Sacheri laughed as Umair beckoned for him to come out to the floor.

“See you in the morning, then,” they said.

A dozen suggestive responses rose in Sacheri’s throat, but he swallowed them all. “See you in the morning.”

He sent one more ping to Paradis: Found a good team. Made some friends. One more run before I take a rest.

Blog Tour: The Northern Route by Walter Robinson + Exclusive Excerpt

On December 16, 2023 By authoranthonyavinablogIn Blog Tours, Book EventsLeave a comment

Walter Robinson has a new queer sci-fi book out (gay, lesbian), SVF book one: The Northern Route.

In the distant star cluster Messier 4, the vast and stagnant civilization of the Apeilous sits on the verge of its next great expansion. Several massive corporations have merged to start the Endeavor, the most far-reaching economic and humanitarian effort in history.

Vesta Amore leads a small team of private security specializing in the protection of whistleblowers and corporate defectors. She has no interest in the Endeavor until she is swept off her feet by the suave leader of the Fortuna Corp, an equal partner in the Endeavor. Balancing her altruism with the realities of power, Vesta joins the Fortuna as they work to establish a supply route along the contested northern border.

Cal Sunn is a career detective looking forward to retirement. When the Maressellya Corp backs out of joining the Endeavor, they hear rumors of a defector in their ranks and put Cal on the case. What starts as a simple assignment becomes a fight for survival as he works to untangle a shadowy conspiracy that threatens the Apeilous. With the Fortuna’s backing, he and his crew rush to uncover the plot.

Warnings: Combat violence, “off-screen” sexual assault, large scale loss of life

About the Series:

In the distant star cluster M4, the vast civilization of the Apeilous barrels through a geopolitically tumultuous era. The independent northern state of Tressel is upset by territory grabs orchestrated by the largest corporations of the Apeilous through a humanitarian operation known as the Endeavor.

Vesta Fortuna, once a lowly private security contractor, rose to power to lead the largest and most controversial state of the Apeilous: The State of Vesta Fortuna. The SVF series explores the rise and fall of Vesta as a state-maker, a wife, a mother, and ultimately an authoritarian leader. Shorter companion novels detail the origins of the people who rise to support or oppose Vesta:

Aelia, a refugee turned warrior turned politician who will stop at nothing to bring down SVF.

Kiton, a bright young detective keen to support SVF by rooting out corruption in its ranks.

Valentia, Vesta’s daughter and heir to the Fortuna family.

Augustus, Vesta’s son and the unlikely heart and soul of SVF.

Get It At Amazon

Excerpt

Main character Vesta and her best friend Jak spend Act 3 forging ties between the Fortuna Corporation and the leadership of the independent planet Atayuma. Keen to make connections outside of the autocratic government, Vesta and Jak engage in a bit of old-fashioned diplomacy with group of mid-level army and navy personnel at the most popular bar in town. By this point in the story, Vesta and Jak have already made friends of several revolution-sympathizers in the armed forces.

Fun fact, the song in this excerpt was adapted with permission from the artist, Jason Webley!

Excerpt from Chapter 29, God Save the King:

Rau’s Taphouse

Capital City, Atayuma (ISY-AT)

Three musicians sat in the corner of the room belting out drinking songs on a tuba, a drum set, and an accordion. The accordionist sang loudly, yet his voice barely rose over the short beats of the instruments and the din of the bar.

Vesta and Jak sat at a table for six, joined by three captains from the Royal Navy. The sixth member of their gathering was Captain Ernesto of the army division Aline had selected for the coming monsoon. While Vesta had spent the fore of the evening chatting and getting to know them, her efforts were stymied by a raucous sing-along song about storms and angels. Then the music struck a somber tone.

The singer had his bandmates restart the intro, seemingly to get the crowd’s full attention. He sang the first verse softly.

“To the old, cracked screen,

Of my mother’s voice,

I still cry when I hear her sing.

The clock struck twelve,

The voice I love so well,

Was eaten up by the machine,

It was eaten up by the machine!”

Vesta wondered what exactly he meant by the machine. Maybe he’s talking about the mines. Every voice in the bar joined in the second verse.

“When the glass is full,

Drink up! Drink up!

This maybe the last time

We see this cup.

If angels wanted us sober,

They’d knock the glass over,

So while it is full, we drink up!”

Just as Vesta started to tap her toes to the beat, the drum and tuba quieted, and the individual taps on the accordion’s keyboard became clear. The singer glanced at her with a kind smile and sang softly, twisting the next verse into something unknown to the crowd.

“A toast to our guests,

A girl from the stars,

I hear the king courts her,

But all of this cheer,

And maybe the beer,

Has brought her back here,

So let’s help her drink the place dry,

Yes, let’s drink the damn place dry!”

The crowd cheered, and many raised their glasses toward Vesta before downing them. Jak slapped her on the shoulder with a little too much force, and the singer repeated the verse. A few people joined in. Then the rest shouted along for the last three lines. The standard verses followed, and the discordant singing continued. Vesta could only sit and sway to the beat. Jak had other ideas, rising to his feet to join a line of people dancing forward and backward with their arms on the shoulders of those next to them. Ernesto joined too, shouting with the dance line that now snaked clear across the length of the bar.

The music crescendoed upward, and the singing grew louder for the last verse.

“…knock the glass over.”

“So while it is full drink up!” the crowd screamed. People clapped, some tossed coins and banknotes at the band members, and others spilled their drinks as they tried to toast with their neighbors at the bar. The joyous frenetic atmosphere remained past the end of the music, but there was a clear shift in tone and a color shift for Vesta’s deeper vision. A calm contentment filled the minds of the patrons closing out their tabs and shuffling out the front door. Many said goodbye to their friends for the night, clasping each other’s hands in front of their chests with a tense shake. Eager to return to the palace, Vesta cut off Jak’s animated conversation with one of the navy captains, handed the bartender enough money to cover the table, and started toward the door.

A crowd of eager-eyed Atayumans stood outside Rau’s. They all bubbled with joy as Vesta stepped onto the street. She took Jak’s hand, smiled, and moved through them, trying not to flinch as every person attempted to touch her shoulders. Countless glowing Atayuman eyes met hers before they reached the edge of the gathering.

A raindrop landed on her hand. She reached up and felt that the top of her headscarf was damp. She pulled her hood up and activated her wrist computer, nearly blinding herself with its white light. Navigating to the archaic weather app that the Atayumans operated, she looked at the radar map of the incoming weather formation. It was predicted to be light and move past the city shortly after sunrise.

“God damn, I love diplomacy,” Jak said, words soft despite their volume. “If only the [Vesta’s ethnicity] weren’t so uptight, we could’ve been doing this on [Vesta’s home planet]!”

“Jak, please,” she said sharply. With a bit of tugging and pushing, she guided him up the sweeping main road toward the palace gates. Some distance from the royal guards, Vesta tensed her jaw and held her breath to redden her face.

“Are you doing that thing?” Jak asked, taking a series of tiny steps to steady himself.

“Yes,” she huffed, shooting him a sideways look.

“Why don’t you just think about those photos you had me take—”

“Jak!” she said loudly, playfully pushing him, then grabbing his shirt to keep him from falling over.

“You know, the ones for Piata—”

“Yes, I know!” she said, feeling her cheeks burn. Embarrassed, she channeled her shy charisma and played a nervous flirty drunk. The four guards at the gate seemed none-the-wiser and cleared the way for them.

Author Bio

Walter Robinson is a speculative fiction author based in Western PA.

A classically trained engineer with experience in product development and advanced materials manufacturing, he has a passion for telling the human stories that are fundamental to the built world. When he isn’t writing or drawing, Walter spends his time designing and fabricating.

Author Website: https://svf-state.com

Author Facebook (Personal): https://www.facebook.com/walter.robinson.12

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

Author Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/user/show/163169298-walter-robinson

Author Amazon: https://www.amazon.com/stores/Walter-Robinson/author/B0C9R78T9C

Exclusive Excerpt – The Pool Party Trope

Context:

Our characters currently live at the Fortuna Enclave, a classically styled mansion located on the beach of a lake on the contested planet Corben Six. The Enclave is a sort of temporary corporate embassy, used by the Fortuna Corporation and its leader, Piata, to forge business dealings in the region. After a month of entertaining foreign dignitaries to further Piata’s goals, main character Vesta is burnt out. Her best friend Jak has taken it upon himself to organize a beach party.

Excerpt from Chapter 20 “The Sightless”:

The Corbenite sun burned in the sky above the city, just an hour and a half from the horizon. Long shadows made dark the sandstone wall and the side of the gazebo that Vesta approached. She expected only a small gathering, but the pavilion was full of lounging guards, attendants, and activity, the loudest of which was the head chef and Jak standing over the open grill.

“…you will want a pinch of the—”

Jak held up his hand to call for silence. “I’ve got this.”

“But sir, this will bring out the zest of the—”

“Is it so hard to let a man grill in peace?” Jak asked.

“With you, sir, excruciating.”

…

One by one, the pleasant human sounds died until only the crash of the cycling waves remained. Vesta opened her eyes and saw that the guards in the water were slowly returning to shore. She turned around to find that those on the lawn had stopped moving. Some stood at attention, and others clasped their hands.

Piata stepped from the shade of the house into the sunlight, looking like an explosion of embers as her curly golden hair danced freely in the wind. She strode forward, dark legs breaking through the high slits of a billowing white dress that seemed to float in the air behind her despite the irregular strength of the lake air. Piata’s cloudy eyes snapped straight to Vesta and looked nowhere else as she walked down the lawn like the rest of the world did not exist.

…

“Speaking of dinner,” Jak said loudly, “first ones are for the ladies of the house.” He walked up to the couch with two plates in hand: a pair of kebabs and a few pieces of flatbread on each. The smell of the dark grilled fish and vegetables was better than that of anything Jak had ever cooked. Vesta took in the aromas before the wind scattered them, then she accepted the plate from Jak. Piata pulled herself upright and turned to sit straight. She received her plate and set it on her thighs, holding each side as if she did not know what to do.

The Fortuna chef managed to shoulder his way around Jak. “I am so sorry, ma’am, this is a Corbenite variety of freshwater—”

Piata held up her hand and dismissed the chef with a nod. “I will be fine, thank you.”

…

Sitting shoulder-to-shoulder at the end of the dock, Vesta and Piata talked first about the lake. Piata kept her eyes closed; the light glinting off the water was too bright for her damaged irises, so Vesta described all the details for her. Then she quickly changed the topic. Just as she had practiced in her mind, Vesta made a case for her contingency planning, as she called it. Piata just sat and listened, gently breathing out every time the warm water enveloped her feet and ankles.

Piata said, “I am glad you and Cal get along now.”

“Umm, not quite. But I know enough about him to respect his findings. I think that maybe, just maybe, he is starting to believe in the cause.”

“That cause?”

“The Endeavor. And he’s frank about the instability that this whole deal with Paris poses,” Vesta said.

“He is ever so helpful. I take your point, dear. We will plan for the worst.” Piata shifted and leaned back. She cracked her eyes and looked at Vesta with a sly smile. The front-most strip of her dress blew up to reveal a narrow white swimsuit. In a sultry tone of voice, she asked, “Do you remember back on the Miren Star, when you found me in the pool?”

“I do.”

“I enjoyed watching you climb out in those tight little shorts.”

Vesta felt her cheeks warm. She turned to look back down the dock to ensure none of the guards or attendants were close enough to hear them. Everyone was still either on the porch or in the pavilion. “Well,” Vesta said slowly, leaning close to speak quietly into Piata’s ear, “why don’t we swim back? You can watch me walk up the beach in something much smaller.”

Piata shook her head. “I did not realize Jak invited all the house staff. This”—she tugged on the white fabric of her swimsuit, nearly flashing Vesta— “is see-through when wet.”

Vesta bit her lip and her cheeks grew hot even as she turned her head away from the setting sun. She lifted herself to her feet. With a deep breath, she pulled off her dress, handed it to Piata, and dove into the lake, piercing the face of an approaching swell with her hands pointed over her head. The force of the water against the lake bottom brought her up to the surface fast, and she emerged with enough speed that she fell over. Embracing the motion, she swam to the side to clear the dock, then started toward shore with lazy sidestrokes that took advantage of every wave. Piata walked back on the dock, keeping pace and beaming down at Vesta. Just as the waves started to break, Vesta found the sandy ground and stood up, bobbing closer to shore before getting a solid footing.

Water poured out of her tangled hair and ran down her arms and hips as she walked through the shallower and shallower water. A single sweep of her hand cleared the pale hairs from her face, and she scanned the grounds ahead of her.

“Hot angels! Whew!” Jak whistled.

Vesta felt a thousand stares and tried to wear a casual smile, but she knew her face was cherry red. She narrowed her eyes in Jak’s direction.

“Looking good, Vesta,” Phoebe called, raising her glass.

Someone swore quietly, and everyone turned back to their conversations, or at least they were polite enough to try to. Piata had no trouble staring daggers into the gathering under the pavilion. Vesta hooked her arm and walked her up the lawn and into the open ground level of the private wing.

“Did you like the show?” Vesta asked, mounting the stairs and feeling the swimsuit ride up a little. She ignored it as she twisted to look down at Piata, who grinned up at her.

“Even half-blind, I still enjoy your beauty.” 

“And when you go fully blind?”

“Then I will just have to enjoy you by feel,” she whispered, planting her hands on Vesta’s butt and pushing her up the stairs.

[End Chapter]

Blog Tour: Rise (Queer Sci Fi Tenth Annual Flash Fiction Contest) Tour + Excerpt

On October 28, 2023 By authoranthonyavinablogIn reviewsLeave a comment

Queer Sci Fi has a new flash fiction anthology out: Rise. And there’s a giveaway.

RISE (Noun, Verb)

Eight definitions to inspire writers around the world, and an unlimited number of possible stories to tell:

An upward slope or movement

A beginning or origin

An increase in amount or number

An angry reaction

To take up arms

To return from death

To become heartened or elated

To exert oneself to meet a challenge

Rise features 300-word speculative flash fiction stories from across the rainbow spectrum, from the minds of the writers of Queer Sci Fi.

About the Series

Every year, Queer Sci Fi runs a one-word theme contest for 300 word flash fiction stories, and then we choose 120 of the best for our annual anthology.

Publisher | Amazon | Apple Books | Barnes & Noble | Bookshop.org | Google Play | Kobo | Scribd | Smashwords | Thalia | Vivlio | Goodreads | Universal Buy Link

Giveaway

Queer Sci Fi is giving away a $25 Bookshop.org gift card with this tour:

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

Direct Link: http://www.rafflecopter.com/rafl/display/b60e8d47301/

Excerpts

It’s a simple recipe.

Passed down in whispers and hands tracing hands through flour and faith. Never written down, paper being too precious for such a small spell, some might say. Like something must be loud to have worth.

A common myth, one that serves her quiet magic well.

She sits pretty in commonhalls and houses, empty eye-sockets and a cloak of harmless charm enough for most to dismiss her. Certainly, her weaving or kneading is all her pretty head can handle.

She listens, and her hands move. Each stitch another secret, gossip kneaded into every loaf.

—From Simple Recipes for Small Magics – Ziggy Schutz

It wasn’t the principles that Matt Harden objected to. The principles were fine: Limited planetary resources. Circle of life. The wrongness of playing God.

But, he thought as he spread the herbs on the basement floor in the prescribed way, the principles were bullshit when you were faced with reality. When the only man who’d ever held your heart was stolen from you by a moment’s distraction behind the wheel. When you never had the chance to even say goodbye. When your body in bed was as cold and alone as a corpse in a coffin.

When the night mist was clammy on your neck and the grave-dirt heavy on your shovel.

—From Principle and Reality – Kim Fielding

“He’s here,” Matt said, slamming the door behind him. “You ready?”

“Think so,” Rory said. He’d finished the salt circle, and quickly moved on to placing the candle in the center.

“Will this work?”

“It’s this or nothing.” Once Tiff told them she’d survived a run in with the killer known as The Hook, Rory knew they were as good as dead. Supposedly this bastard had been killed before, but he never seemed to stop. Much about The Hook seemed unreal, but Rory thought it was the only weapon they had – the unbelievable. Besides, they were gay; those characters always died first.

From Best Served Cold – Andrea Speed

“You do realize,” the nurse said gravely, “that without your parent permission form, this procedure can only be temporary.”

“I do,” Sharon said nervously. Sharon. That was a good name, right? Sounded like Shawn, but wasn’t. Was a girl’s name. A woman’s name. She liked Sharon.

“And that given your parent’s lack of support for this, there will be a counselor assigned to your home to ensure your safety?” The nurse continued, checking the talking points on her tablet with precision.

“I won’t need it,” Sharon said nervously. “They think it’s a phase, but they’re not, you know, hostile.”

From A New Day – Amy Lane

Author Bio

This year, 554 authors entered the Rise contest. 120 of them were chosen, and their stories are included in this anthology:

Jordan Abronson

Aisling Alvarez

CJ Aralore

Ellery Arden

Anusha Asim

K. Aten

Drew Baker

Jeff Baker

Evelyn Benvie

Eytan Bernstein

L. R. Braden

Sorren Briarwood

Kayleen Burdine

Siri Caldwell

Sonja Seren Calhoun

Jennifer Caracappa

T. D. Carlson

Caro

Minerva Cerridwen

Amanda Cherry

Dawn Spina Couper

Monique Cuillerier

Lynden Daley

Claire Davon

Ef Deal

Francine DeCarey

Nicole Dennis

Sarah Doebereiner

Kellie Doherty

Allan Dyen-Shapiro

Markus McCann Edgette

Kim Fielding

Tom Folske

Athena Foster

Ani Fox

Beáta Fülöp

Jendia Gammon

Storm Grant

Chad Grayson

Gabbi Grey

Kaje Harper

Narrelle M. Harris

Kelly Haworth

Chisto Healy

Megan Hippler

Joanna Michal Hoyt

Grace Hudson

Meghan Hyland

Jeff Jacobson

Erin Jamieson

W. Dale Jordan

Adrik Kemp

Olivia Kemper

Jamie Lackey

Aidee Ladnier

Amy Lane

Tris Lawrence

Brenda Lee

Katrina Lemaire

Gordon Linzner

Jayne Lockwood

Clare London

Nathan Alling Long

Patricia Loofbourrow

J.C. Lovero

Ilyas M.

Stacey Mahuna

Paula McGrath

Atlin Merrick

Amanda Meuwissen

Eloreen Moon

Jaime Munn

RJ Mustafa

Oliver Nash

Annika Neukirch

Jess Nevins

Rory Ni Coileain

K.L. Noone

Milo Owen

Chris Panatier

J Piper

Nia Quinn

Mere Rain

D.M. Rasch

Kazy Reed

LS Reinholt

Alexei Madeleine Reyner

Emerian Rich

Rie Sheridan Rose

Anna Rueden

Curtis Rueden

Carol Ryles

Jamie Sands

Rodello Santos

Sumiko Saulson

Aradhya Saxena

Ziggy Schutz

C.J. Scott

Alex Silver

Roxanne Skelly

sparks

Andrea Speed

Chloe Spencer

Robin Springer

Andrea Stanet

Nathaniel Taff

O.E. Tearmann

Tori Thompson

George Underwood

Avery Vanderlyle

Joz Varlo

Dawn Vogel

Rhian Waller

Dean Wells

Devon Widmer

B Wilkins

Holli Rebecca Williams

Paul Wilson

X. Ho Yen

Jamie Zaccaria

Queer Sci Fi Website: https://www.queerscifi.com

Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/groups/qsfdiscussions

Mastodon: https://mastodon.otherworldsink.com/@queerscifi

Unique Excerpt: Foreword

It’s hard to tell a story in just 300 words, so it’s only fair that I limit this foreword to exactly 300 words, too. This year, 454 writers took the challenge, with stories across the queer spectrum. The contest rules are simple. Submit a complete, well-written themed 300 word sci-fi, fantasy, paranormal or horror story with LGBTQ+ characters.

For our tenth year and ninth anthology, we chose the theme “Rise.” The interpretations run from rising bread to zombies rising from the grave, from sunrise to rising on feathered wings. There are little jokes, big surprises, and future prognostications that will make your head spin.

I’m proud that this collection includes many colors of the LGBTQ+ (or QUILTBAG, if you prefer) universe—lesbian, gay, bisexual, transgender, intersex, queer, and asexual characters populate these pages—our most diverse contest yet. There’s a bit of romance, too—and a number of stories solidly on the “mainstream” side. Flash fiction is short, fun, and easy to read. You may not fall in love with every story—in fact, you probably won’t. But if you don’t like one, just move on to the next, and you’re sure to find some bite-sized morsels of flash fiction goodness. There are so many good stories in here—choose your own favorites.

We chose three winning stories, five judges’ choice picks, and two director’s picks, all marked in the text. Thanks to our judges—Angel Martinez, Ben Lilley, Sacchi Green, Lloyd Meeker, and Diane Allen—for selflessly giving their time, love, and energy to this project. And to Ryane Candyce too, for editing.

At Queer Sci Fi, we’re building a community of writers and readers who want a little rainbow in their speculative fiction. Join us and submit a story of your own next time!

OWI Blog Tour: When a Man Loves an Alien by (Tentacular Tales Book 3) by Chloe Archer Interview and Blog Tour

On June 20, 2023June 20, 2023 By authoranthonyavinablogIn Blog Tours, Book Events, InterviewsLeave a comment

Interview

What was your first published work? Tell me a little about it.My first published book was It’s Not Unusual To Be Loved by an Alien. It’s the first in my ongoing M/M sci-fi rom com series, Tentacular Tales. Think Men in Black meets The Princess Bride–but hella gay, and with tentacles! A sunshiny sci-fi nerd discovers aliens are real and living incognito here on Earth. Where might you ask? Las Vegas, baby! What better place to hide in plain sight! It’s a wild, zany ride full of all kinds of sci-fi nerdy goodness, pop culture references galore, hilarious shenanigans, and spicy fun! What is the most heartfelt thing a reader has said to you?I’m still fairly new at all this (my first year publiversary isn’t until September) but I’ve already received many heartfelt messages and comments from readers. The ones that are really touching are from folks who tell me my series is their go-to comfort read when they’re feeling down or sad. When I decided to write the series, I really hoped the book would speak to other readers and give them all the warm, happy, and laughter-filled feels possible! What was one of the most surprising things you’ve learned in writing your books?I learned that I largely have to dictate my first draft. Writing on a blank page doesn’t go well for me. My internal editor/critic wants to come out and nitpick every word I write so it becomes a two steps forward, one step back kind of situation. Not fun! When I heard about dictation, I thought I’d give it a try because I was quite stuck in making forward progress on my first book. I was a natural from the first attempt! I dictated a solid 20-minutes that day. Dictation has made my writing goals possible. In general, I will dictate for 30-40 minutes at a time and then I will edit the transcription before moving on. It has sped up my whole process and I can easily get my word count goals each day when I do this.What were your goals and intentions in this book, and how well do you feel you achieved them?When a Man Loves an Alien is the third book in the series and it continues to follow the main couple, River and Kai. I knew this was the penultimate book in their main story arc, so there were a lot of things that needed to happen to expand on story lines from the first two books and new ones leading into the epic finale of the next book. I knew it was going to be a fairly action packed ride, but as I’ve told some people, imagine it more as a Mr. Bean-style of adventure. I’m all about the humor, after all! I also wanted to continue to show growth in my main characters and deepen their relationship. Then there’s all the side characters—there are so many and more keep clamoring in my brain to join the story world! It’s a lot to juggle but I try my best. On the whole, I think I achieved my goals based on what readers have been telling me. Phew! Fingers crossed I can do it again with Book 4…gulp!Who did your cover, and what was the design process like?The fabulous and super talented Natasha Snow did my cover. She’s done all my covers so far. I always wished I was artistically inclined, but alas, I don’t have the gift. I’d been drawn to a number of Natasha’s covers for other authors in the past and I knew going into it that she was the person I wanted to work with. Her process is very streamlined. She has a form you fill out with details about the book and thoughts, images, or inspirations for the cover. I gave her a couple of suggestions, but mostly let her do her thing since I trust her judgment. What secondary character would you like to explore more? Tell me about him or her.I’m excited to explore River’s stoner Gen X uncle, Benji, some more. He’s kind of a cross between The Dude in The Big Lebowski and Keanu Reeves. He’s an interesting guy with a complicated backstory. I’ve already seeded plenty of hints in the series that he is going to end up having a romance with River’s boyfriend’s brother, Mal. Their story is going to be Book 5 in the series!As a child, what did you want to be when you grew up?An author! I knew in about fourth grade. Books were my safe space and my passion. At the same time, when I read them I would get all sorts of ideas for my own stories and wanted to be able to share them with others. But I grew up at a time when traditional publishing was the only option available and most of the adults in my life didn’t consider it a viable career path and steered me toward pursuing other things. It’s taken me a long time to get here but I’m glad to have finally started achieving my dreams!We know what you like to write, but what do you like to read in your free time, and why?I read loads of LGBTQ+ romance when I have free time. I like to keep up with favorite authors but also discover new ones. In general, I’m not a fan of anything super dark when it comes to romance. I lean more toward stuff that is lighter and funnier. I love a good paranormal (as long as it isn’t super angsty or dark), fantasy, urban fantasy, sci-fi, and mystery. While I do read a lot of M/M, I also enjoy F/F and other LGBTQ+ configurations of couples. The rainbow spectrum is beautiful, and as a queer person myself, I enjoy reading widely across the spectrum.

When a Man Loves an Alien - Chloe Archer

Chloe Archer has a new MM sci-fi romance book out, Tentacular Tales book 3: When a Man Lies an Alien. And there’s a giveaway.

A grumpy-sexy alien and his (mostly) human mate are just trying to get married for goodness sake! But the road to matrimony is riddled with obstacles that could prove deadly…

RIVER

Being engaged to my adorable alien boo is a dream come true. Too bad there’s a target painted on my back. Come on universe, quit messing with true love! For reals. Kai and I need to plan our wedding—which is going to be hella quirky and fun, because I say so.

Cue Shilgar the Deadly, who’s screwing up everything—what with trying to kill me and all. My life is becoming even more unbelievable than my fictional characters, Lord Vardox and Captain Starblade.

There’s no way I’m not walking down the aisle with Kai, so help me! I fully intend to ‘get me to the church’—I mean Vegas wedding chapel—on time. This fool of an assassin thinks he can mess with my dreams of wedded bliss? I don’t think so. He’s about to learn he’s met his match in River Sullivan!

KAI

My relationship with River is solid and wedding bells are in the air. Unfortunately, other parts of my life are…less stable. Between juggling a highly inconvenient Mating Fever that can strike at any time, and dealing with an investigator from Intergalactic Alliance Headquarters, I’m finding it hard to hold onto my usual equilibrium.

When Shilgar the Deadly finally shows up on Earth, gunning for River, the control I cling to is stretched razor thin. I’m desperate to do whatever I can to keep my mate safe—but I’m not sure if I can.

Yet things aren’t all that they seem. New secrets come to light and we’re all left reeling. Apparently, that famous Earthling playwright was correct when he wrote, “the course of true love never did run smooth….”

When a Man Loves an Alien (Tentacular Tales #3) is a (96k words) M/M sci-fi rom com and the third book in the series. It should be read in chronological order. This installment features an assassin who just won’t quit, little old ladies at slot machines who should NOT be messed with, a zipline action-hero moment, shocking secrets and revelations, a death-defying climax, and just maybe…a zany Vegas wedding? This book has an HFN ending and no cheating. Never fear—there is a guaranteed HEA by the end of the series!

Warnings: sex involving tentacles, some violence

Series Blurb

Tentacular Tales is an M/M sci-fi rom com series that follows the adventures of humans falling in love with aliens who are living incognito on Earth–in the wild and fabulous, Las Vegas. Of course that’s where aliens would be hiding right under our noses! Enter a world full of plenty of geeky humor, zany shenanigans, sexy aliens, and tentacles galore! Think Men in Black meets The Princess Bride–but hella gay! Note: This series should be read in chronological order.

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Giveaway

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

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Excerpt

RIVER

“Step right up and get your Tentacular Tales merch! We’ve got T-shirts in all sizes, made to accommodate folks of various shapes and appendages.” My old neighbor—and incognito alien—Tom Jones holds up one of the aforementioned shirts. “For those die-hard fans of our favorite villain out there, we have our brand spanking—no pun intended—new Team Vardox FTW tees!”

There’s an enthusiastic murmur among the crowd. Tom drapes the shirt over his shoulder like a bar towel and plucks up another. “For the more daring among you, we have I got tentacled by Lord Vardox…and I liked it or Villain in the streets, Tentacled-Lover in the sheets.”

There’s some enthusiastic whistling at that one. He tosses it aside and grabs a different one. “And let’s not forget about our Starblade stans in the crowd.” There are answering whistles and cheers. “Of course we have Team Starblade FTW. We can’t let Team Vardox have all the fun! We also have I’m too sexy for this shirt, and so is Captain Starbladeor Tentacle Lover on the DL. Get your favorites before we run out!”

Aliens of all shapes and sizes begin surging forward, cash in hands and other appendages, as they surround the folding table where Tom is selling his wares.

I shake my head in awe, turning to my super-sexy alien boo, and now fiancé, Kai. “Did you know about this?”

He shakes his head. “Nope. Looks like Tom took a cue out of your book and went the route of T-shirt design.”

I glance down at the black cotton tee I’m wearing. On the front, in multicolored sequins, it reads Team ANAL,and on the back it says in shiny metallic gold font, Kicking butt from here to Uranus. My design is a work of art and classy as fuck—it also promotes team spirit, thank you very much. I’ve had quite a few orders from folks at work already. “Just so you know, I’m going to keep wearing this until it grows on you.” I beam. “I’ve got a different colored one for each day of the week!”

Kai rolls his eyes but favors me with a teasing smile. “Save me now.”

I give his arm a light and playful smack. “You know you love it.”

His mouth twitches and he arches an eyebrow. “I wouldn’t go that far, darling. But I’ll put up with it for you.”

I clutch my hands to my heart. “OMG, honeybuns. You’re getting to be sooo romantic! You just called me darling. It’s like we’re an old married couple already.”

Kai flushes adorably pink and sputters. I love getting a rise out of him at moments like this. He can be a bit too tightly wound, so I have to help him let go of his iron grip on duty, responsibility, and propriety.

I’m like Yoda, teaching him the ways of the Fun-Loving Force.

A microphone crackles to life and my new friend Nirblob addresses the crowd from atop the small impromptu stage against the wall at the far end of the bar. “Good evening, friends, and welcome to Vardox’s Cantina. Tonight, it is my supreme pleasure to usher in our very first Open Mic night!”

There’s an enthusiastic round of applause and some loud whistles.

Nirblob grins, which admittedly is a little freaky since he has no lips. I still haven’t quite gotten used to that. “This evening, we are most fortunate to have a very special guest. Here to kick things off with a sneak peek from the next chapter in the Tentacular Tales of Captain Starblade, please join me in welcoming the one, the only, River Sullivan, a.k.a. KirklovesSpock4eva!”

The crowd goes wild, which in a super-secret alien bar can be a bit surreal. After all, this bar is mainly for extraterrestrials who don’t pass easily in human society, or ones who do but want the opportunity to be their true selves in a safe space. Some folks here make even Nirblob look somewhat ordinary. It’s a bit like being a real-life version of the Mos Eisley Cantina in Star Wars—only less violent!

“Looks like you’re up,” Kai murmurs, giving my arm a squeeze.

I grin. “Give me a kiss for luck, boo.”

He sighs at the endearment, but his eyes darken as he leans down and takes my lips in a way that makes me want to ditch this event and go get our freak on.

When Kai pulls back, I’m tingly all over and more than a little hot and bothered. But I’m pleased to notice, as he adjusts himself discreetly, he isn’t exactly unaffected either.

“Knock ‘em dead.”

I give him a jaunty little salute. “Aye, aye, captain!”

He can’t keep the fondness from his eyes when he tries to glare at me, which turns my grin into that of a lovesick fool. And I basically am. I have no qualms about owning it.

I make my way over to the stage, offering variants of high fives along the way—to a tail here, a hand with eight fingers there, a furry paw every now and then. Two months ago, I never could have imagined this would be my life. A longtime Roswell alien conspiracy believer and total X-phile, I—by some remarkable twist of fate—actually foundaliens here on Earth, living incognito among humanity.

What are the odds?

Author Bio

Chloe Archer writes M/M sci-fi and paranormal rom coms with laugh out loud humor because she’s all about bringing the funny-sexy back. Oh, yeah!

She currently calls Minnesota home, but has lived abroad in places like Montreal, Edinburgh, and Tokyo. She’s hoping to relocate to Scotland permanently one day if the stars align.

Chloe is a fur mama to two adorable Yorkies, Jasper and Teddy, and she loves them in a crazy dog mama kind of way. When she isn’t busy writing, she enjoys visiting friends and family, traveling, reading, binge watching movies and TV shows, and practicing her karaoke skills. She does a mean cover of Pat Benatar and Cher, or so she’s been told.

Author Website: https://chloearcher.com

Author Facebook (Personal): https://www.facebook.com/profile.php?id=100071621497295

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

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

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Author Anthony Avina

Tag: LGBTQ Sci Fi

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