I received a free copy of this book in exchange for a fair and honest review. All opinions are my own.
A young man must navigate life as a Black teen while growing up with two dads and questions about his heritage in author Vincent Traughber Meis’s “Colton’s Terrible Wonderful Year”.
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The Synopsis
Colton is on a quest to meet his surrogate mom who might help him navigate being a Black teenager in today’s America. The woman who gave birth to him is Black. His dads are not. His diverse community of family and friends includes lots of LGBTQ+ people, though his first love is a girl of mixed race like him.
Colton’s dads reluctantly introduce him to his birth mother, but she doesn’t turn out to be person he hoped for. On his journey of falling in love, nearly losing one of his dads, and confronting a racist cousin, he learns about love, non-traditional families, community, and what is important in life. The biggest challenge of all is something he discovers about his birth, causing friction with his dads. But like every difficulty in his life, the love of his dads ultimately carries him along and lifts him up.
The Review
This was a powerful and well-written LGBTQ+ YA Drama. The author did an incredible job of layering the narrative with heart and thoughtful plot points that touched upon many of the issues still facing our society today. The rich descriptive nature of the scenes not only brought the reader into the settings perfectly but made the story feel alive on the page as if reading a script for a play at times as the narrative played out.
The heart of this narrative was definitely the thought-provoking themes and passionate character development that went into the story. The struggles that this cast of characters endured all showcased the unique hardships that certain groups of people still face in a prejudiced society, from the protagonist’s struggles to understand his heritage and how to live life as a black man, to the struggles of LGBTQ+ parents who try to navigate these difficult paths with their children and so much more. The dynamics of the characters as they struggled through these events felt realistic and captivating to behold, heightening the drama and emotions that the reader felt.
The Verdict
Heartfelt, emotionally driven, and thought-provoking, author Vincent Traughber Meis’s “Colton’s Terrible Wonderful Year” is a must-read LGBTQ+ YA Drama that readers won’t be able to put down. The shocking struggles these characters must endure and the all too familiar relatability of the issues that these characters face will resonate with many readers, and the captivating scenes that showcase the protagonist’s evolution over time will make this one story readers won’t be able to forget. If you haven’t yet, be sure to grab your copy today!
Rating: 10/10
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About the Author
In the 1980s and 90s Vincent Meis published a number of pieces, mostly travel articles, but also a few poems and book reviews, in publications such as, The Advocate, LA Weekly, In Style, and Our World. His travels have inspired his five novels, all set at least partially in foreign countries: Eddie’s Desert Rose (2011), Tio Jorge (2012), and Down in Cuba (2013), Deluge (2016) and Four Calling Burds (2019). Tio Jorge received a Rainbow Award in the category of Bisexual Fiction in 2012. Down in Cuba received two Rainbow Awards in 2013. Recently stories have been published in two collections: WITH:New Gay Fiction and Best Gay Erotica 2015.
Bey Deckard has a new MM dark erotic psychological thriller out, Max the Series book 2: Max, the Sequel. And there’s a giveaway.
Robert Montagnet and Dan Cooper are a nice gay couple who live in a nice waterfront condo in a nice, touristy part of Playa del Carmen, Mexico.
At least, that’s who they’re pretending to be.
After five months on the lam, Dr. Crane is strained to the point of breaking—he just wants it to be over. But, with his mental and physical health in decline, living where he doesn’t speak the language and relying on his partner for everything, he feels trapped.
Just the way Max likes it, of course.
When Crane is presented with an opportunity to clear his name once and for all, he’s compelled to take it… But, it means betraying the young man who thoroughly intoxicates him in ways he had never imagined possible.
Can Crane break his addiction or is he too far down the rabbit hole to escape?
Crane left a note for Max, letting him know he’d gone out for errands and closed the door quietly behind him so he wouldn’t wake Max from his well-deserved nap. Whistling, he took the stairs down, spinning the key ring on his finger as he shielded his eyes against the midafternoon sun. He stopped on the last step and stood there momentarily, just glad to be out of the house. It felt great. He felt great. Crane watched a family of four cross the street, the mother squinting down at the phone in her hand while dragging along a little boy in bathing trunks. From the pallor of their skin, Crane assumed they’d just arrived and weren’t familiar yet with the area. Sure enough, the father spotted Crane and steered the baby stroller towards him, a smile on his face.
“Howdy! Hablar Ang-lays?” the man asked in a twangy accent as he touched the rim of his cap.
“I do,” Crane replied. “Are you looking for the beach?”
“We are,” the man replied, then called to his wife. “Mags, I found help!”
Crane grinned. “Just keep following this road, then turn left at the fence. You’ll see the access to the beach right away.”
“Thank you. We got turned ‘round,” the man said, jiggling the stroller back and forth a few times to soothe its cranky occupant. “Much obliged. Mags, it’s this way!”
Watching them go, Crane felt his mood shift. Soberly, he thought about how foreign it all seemed to him now. Just a nice little family vacation where no one was trying to drug or manipulate anyone, where no one had to worry about winding up in jail or whether someone was going to sodomize them while drunk . . .
Booooring.
With a rueful chuckle, Crane shook his head and went up the street in the opposite direction of the tourist family and had to admit the voice in his head had a point. If there was one thing life with Max certainly wasn’t, it was boring.
Author Bio
Artist, Writer, Dog Lover.
Bey Deckard is the author of a number of novels including the Baal’s Heart books, Max, Beauty and His Beast, and Better the Devil You Know.
Bey lives in Montréal, Canada where he spends most of his time writing, doing graphic work, painting portraits, speaking French, cooking tasty vegetarian eats, or watching more movies than is good for him. If you’re the curious type, http://www.beydeckard.com is where you’ll find art and free stories by Bey as well as information on his published works.
Nicole Dennis has a new MM fantasy paranormal romance out, McShayne Bloodline book 2: McShayne’s Elf. And there’s a giveaway.
A Realm falls to the darkness.
An outcast because of his mixed heritage, Braedyn of the Dark, Captain of the Royal Shields and protector of the Prince of the Southern Woodland Realm, maintains his position through sheer grit and skill. Connected to a hawk familiar, Cerin, his magic is a mixture of Arcane and wielding. At the High King’s orders, he remains by his Prince’s side through a treacherous journey through the Lands to discover answers and a new home.
Losing his Realm, his parents, and his position in one-night, High Prince Conchobar Ó Díomasaigh is completely out of his familiarity. Running for his life, relying only on his protector and Captain, he digs deep to survive their trials, the growing darkness, and go wherever they must to save their Realm. At the same time, he sees his Captain in a different light and the deepening connection between them
Strange adventures. New allies. Growing connections. Can they survive this wild journey to save the elves, the Realm, and their lives?
About the Series:
Magic passed through ancient bloodlines for generations. A powerful family gifted with a blend of Elf, Fae, and Human magic, the McShaynes watched over the balance of nature. While the Otherkin receded from any mortal connection, the McShaynes refuse to leave their ancestral lands. Until the humans turn against magic.
Four McShayne sons spread across the Lands. Each one fears he is the last. They fight to survive the harsh atmosphere, maintain their bloodline gifts, and discover love and the true meaning of family.
A half-breed elf crouched against the nearest wall to wait out the current round of bombardment.
While the multi-layered and intricate braids denoted all the years of study, training, and practice to gain the skills of an archer, a scout, a tracker, and a soldier, the color of his hair and skin discredited his position. Among the elves of the Southern Woodland Realm, Braedyn of the Dark was an anomaly, a half-breed, and, according to some, not wanted. With every single step or skill he accomplished, he pushed himself even further and harder than everyone around him. Not even the three platinum charms decorating a raven black braid that denoted his position as Captain of the Royal Shields for the High Prince of the Court gained him any support. No matter what anyone said or thought, he continued to perform his duties, going above and beyond to protect his prince and the Realm.
Tonight the elves faced their gravest threat.
Though he should remain behind to protect the Prince, Braedyn followed his King’s orders to moved toward the front lines. His prince understood and allowed him to leave his side to perform his duties and learn what he could. If possible, he would help the defenders. Stepping away, he continued his journey to the barrier walls.
“To the sky!” a look-out shouted to alert everyone.
Ducking under a roof’s edge, Braedyn pressed against the stone and wood while staring at the darkened sky. It was lit by the fires that spread around their beloved Southern Nialam Forest and within the double-walled city. Another series of sharp-tipped arrows flickered while they pierced the night sky.
Screams spread through the darkness. Defenders hit by the arrows. Slain by this unknown enemy.
Braedyn tried to block out the sounds, but he couldn’t.
The invasive attack of the unnatural creatures came out of nowhere and surrounded the double-walled city. Only the small section of sacred western wall against the lowland mountain where the ancestors created the necropolis, the pathway to the Endless Realm, was naturally protected. There was little to no advance warning of these creatures plowing through the forest.
There was a flurry of misguided and scattered action around him from frightened defenders. They never faced this kind of enemy. None of their usual tactics and weapons seem to destroy their enemy, not even push them back. As if the creatures were immune from their natural magic and simple weapons.
A group of young guards fled.
Braedyn waved around his sacred bow, a rare gift of the twin Heartstone Trees. The twisted black and white wooden bow was gifted to the highest skilled archers and personally selected by the Trees. Holding out the bow, he moved it to catch their attention and stop them from fleeing. “Stop! What are you doing? Fleeing from your sworn duty to protect this court, this Realm. Shame upon all of you.”
At the twisted light and dark colored bow, brilliant against the darkness, the young guards slid to a stop.
“A Heartstone bow,” one guard whispered.
“A high archer…”
“Him. It’s him. The half-breed Captain.”
Braedyn ignored the whispers.
“Do you know that one nick of an arrow and you drop dead? Those creatures don’t die. They keep coming out of the forest and night,” one young guard said. “This is why we flee. There is nothing we can do. We must leave the court.”
“All the generals are dead or out of commission. Somehow the enemy knew to find them within the darkness. The outer walls are lost. The southern corner is about to crumble. Some of those creatures are cave trolls or ogres, but it’s like they’re twisted into something else, something far worse. They’re huge. Nothing kills them,” another guard said.
Braedyn looked around at what he could by the walls. He let the words and situation soak into him and roll around. No, they wouldn’t give in and flee. Not this time. Not this battle.
“Sons of the Realm. Listen to me.” He spun the bow and tapped the metal end on the ground. He pointed to the guard who spoke first. “What is your name?”
“Geraint Fenkrana, Guard Commander.
“Commander Geraint, I have a new position for all of you,” Braedyn said. “Focus upon me.”
The group turned to face him with Geraint stepping forward. Their faces bright against the darkness with swatches of dirt and soot. The lightness of their hair, skin, and eyes were a contrast against him, but they didn’t look upon him with hatred or disgust. Not any longer because he continued to stand against the fearsome enemy that threatened their home and lives. They desired leadership and he fulfilled it.
Author Bio
Dreamy…Sensual…Forever Love
A quiet one, Nicole Dennis is the penname of an asexual author of different genres of fiction – both LGBT+ and hetero. Lots of characters, worlds, and stories build up in her head until she must get them down on the screen – anything from romance to fantasy to paranormal.
During the day, she works in a quiet office in Central Florida, where she makes her home, and enjoys the down time to slip into her imagination. She is owned by a new feline companion – a house panther, affectionately known as Brat Cat.
I received a free copy of this book in exchange for a fair and honest review. All opinions are my own.
Two unlikely travelers find themselves on a doomed world and together must uncover the hidden truths that bind this world together before it falls apart completely, and in the process find what binds their lives together as well, in author J. Scott Coatsworth’s “Skythane: Liminal Sky”, the first book in the Oberon Cycle series.
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The Synopsis
Jameson Havercamp, a psych from a conservative religious colony, has come to Oberon—unique among the Common Worlds—in search of a rare substance called pith. He’s guided through the wilds on his quest by Xander Kinnison, a handsome, cocky wing man with a troubled past.
Neither knows that Oberon is facing imminent destruction. Even as the world starts to fall apart around them, they have no idea what’s coming—or the bond that will develop between them as they race to avert a cataclysm.
Together, they will journey to uncover the secrets of this strange and singular world, even as it takes them beyond the bounds of reality itself to discover what truly binds them together.
The Review
I was immediately struck by the sheer volume of world-building and mythology the author was able to cement into this narrative. The in-depth history and futuristic cultures that develop in this universe of the author’s creation not only impacted the story but the character development as well. The rich setting and action-packed scenes helped elevate the tension and intrigue that settled over the cast of characters as this world came to a boiling point just ready to blow up in their faces.
What really sold this story though was the rich character development that the author was able to find with these characters. The way these two protagonists are thrust into the heat of battle and adrenaline-fueled action sets the tone for their journey, and the way in which their bond develops and grows as they start on their path of destiny made the story just sing volumes of the author’s creativity.
The Verdict
Captivating, exhilarating, and thrilling, author J. Scott Coatsworth’s “Skythane: Liminal Sky” is a great first book in the Oberon Cycle series and a rich novel to dive headfirst into. The way the author was able to find the perfect harmonious flow between both sci-fi and fantasy tropes and make the world feel both magical and otherworldly all at once was a great backdrop to the emotional bond these two characters brought together. If you haven’t yet, be sure to grab your copy today!
Rating: 10/10
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J. Scott Coatsworth has a new MM sci-fi romance audiobook out, Oberon Cycle book one: Skythane. And there’s a giveaway.
Jameson Havercamp, a psych from a conservative religious colony, has come to Oberon—unique among the Common Worlds—in search of a rare substance called pith. He’s guided through the wilds on his quest by Xander Kinnison, a handsome, cocky wing man with a troubled past.
Neither knows that Oberon is facing imminent destruction. Even as the world starts to fall apart around them, they have no idea what’s coming—or the bond that will develop between them as they race to avert a cataclysm.
Together, they will journey to uncover the secrets of this strange and singular world, even as it takes them beyond the bounds of reality itself to discover what truly binds them together.
Warnings: past abuse, past suicidal ideation.
About the Series:
Oberon is unique among the Common Worlds – a half-world with a strange past and an uncertain future.
Jameson Havercamp and Xander Kinnson are thrust into the middle of a world-ending event and have to scramble to save the world – and themselves.
Along the way, they peel back the layers of the onion to discover secrets wrapped in secrets that will eventually take them to where it all started – and may provide the key to saving Oberon and everyone on it.
Xander’s bike flew over the crowded streets of Oberon City. It was midmorning, as far as Jameson could tell from the slanting rays of sunshine over the city.
The wind whipped through his hair, making a rat’s nest of it. He was going to look a mess when he arrived at the OberCorp Headquarters, but there was nothing to be done for it. He mollified himself with the thought that it was the company representative’s fault.
Jameson clung to Xander’s waist, uncomfortable at being so close to the other man, but terrified all the same to loosen his grip. The man’s wings settled in around him like a feathered blanket.
Xander Kinnson had wings—he was a skythane man.
Sure, the whole wings thing had been in the briefing, but reading it and seeing it in person were two very different things. They were beautiful, running up from his shoulder blades into the sky when he had them extended, and powerful. The dark feathers glimmered with an iridescent sheen in the sunlight.
Jameson didn’t think he would have the courage to fly—hoverbike flight was unnerving enough. And yet… wings.
They whipped past heavy armored transports and automated delivery trucks that rode the streets below them, mixed in with pedestrians and even some wagons and rickshaws, as strange an assortment of traffic as he had ever seen in one place.
“We’re going to Oberon Corp Headquarters, right?” he shouted at Xander over the noise. He hated shouting.
“What?” Xander shouted back.
“OberCorp Headquarters?”
“Sorry. Can’t hear you!”
Jameson gave up. He settled in to observe the city around him.
The huge arcos formed a virtual blue metallic wall ahead that began to block out the sunlight as the hoverbike moved closer. They were impressive in their uniformity, reminding him of the statues of Easter Island he’d visited during his trip to Old Earth.
From this vantage point, the city seemed much bigger than it had looked from the shuttle flying in, but outside of the impressive architecture of the arcos, the rest of Oberon City was made up of much less impressive, shorter buildings, with the tallest of these topping out around fifteen stories. They were in varied states of decay, with broken windows and rusted stanchions, some of them overrun by wild vines. The city looked like it was badly in need of an urban renewal project—a few buildings were in such bad shape that Jameson was amazed they hadn’t already collapsed under their own weight.
After about fifteen minutes, Xander’s bike slowly dipped down to the ground, coming to a landing between a couple of low buildings. They arrived at a nondescript three-story, concrete-slab structure that would have fit into almost any urban cityscape. It was made entirely out of prefab plascreet panels like all the other ugly buildings around it.
Xander palmed a sensor next to the metal roll-up door and it chugged up noisily, revealing a storage space maybe three meters wide by about three times that length deep. He pulled the bike inside and parked it, beckoning for Jameson to dismount.
Jameson did as he was told, though he was starting to get worried. When it came right down to it, he knew nothing about this man, having taken Xander at his word that he really was a representative of OberCorp.
How could he know for sure?
The idea nagged at him.
The man might be a pirate who preyed upon unsuspecting arrivals at the immigration center. He certainly fit the profile—standoffish, antisocial, certain he was always right. Jameson had seen that many times before in his practice. Then again, most sociopaths were more social.
At least he’d made it to the city now. It might be best to get out of here and find his own way to OberCorp.
Jameson started to back slowly out of the storage unit, away from Xander. He could make a run for it.
“Stay right there,” Xander said without turning, his voice sharp. “This is a bad part of town. It’s dangerous, especially for off-worlders who don’t know any better.”
Jameson looked out onto the street nervously. Oberon City was a lot grittier at ground level than it had appeared from the shuttle—the pavement looked petrochemical based, and it was uneven and black, so different from the beautiful marble streets back on Beta Tau. Some dark fluid flowed in fits and starts down the gutters, and it gave off a nasty smell: part urine, part hydrocarbons, part rotting food.
He was overdressed for such squalor. “Are there any good parts?” He stepped back inside with a sniff.
Xander snorted. He’d set aside Jameson’s suitcase, and was now rummaging around through some plas containers at the back of the storage unit. He pulled out something and threw it over the back of the bike.
It looked like the saddlebags that Jameson’s parents used with horses on their estate to carry supplies or foodstuffs for picnics or hunting trips into the Holywood.
Xander pulled out a knife and used it to pry open Jameson’s suitcase, setting off the luggage’s alarm. Xander snarled and kicked it until the sound died down to an irritated chirp.
“Hey… what are you doing?” Jameson reached out to stop him, but Xander pushed him back, knife in hand. “You can’t wear that where we’re going.” He indicated Jameson’s clothing with the same disdain Jameson himself had used for the hoverbike. He rummaged through the clothes in the suitcase. “None of this will do.” Xander turned to size Jameson up, head to toe. “I think I have something that will work.” He returned to going through the bins at the back of the unit.
“What do you mean, this won’t do? I’ve met with upper-level management in the Psych Guild on numerous occasions, dressed just like this—”
“We’re not meeting with management.” Xander returned with an armful of clothes. “Here, put these on.”
“I must insist that you take me to OberCorp Headquarters right now and—”
Xander dropped the new clothes on the dirty floor and ripped Jameson’s button-down shirt right up the middle, exposing his bare chest. His wings flared out behind him, and he gave Jameson an evil grin. “Change. Now.”
Jameson tried to stare him down, but there was an angry gleam in the man’s eyes that he decided he didn’t want to challenge. He lowered his eyes and picked up the new clothing. “Is there a place for me to change, at least?” He was not getting naked in front of this barbarian.
Author Bio
Scott lives with his husband Mark in a yellow bungalow in Sacramento. He was indoctrinated into fantasy and sci fi by his mother at the tender age of nine. He devoured her library, but as he grew up, he wondered where all the people like him were.
He decided that if there weren’t queer characters in his favorite genres, he would remake them to his own ends.
A Rainbow Award winning author, he runs Queer Sci Fi, QueeRomance Ink, and Other Worlds Ink with Mark, sites that celebrate fiction reflecting queer reality, and is the committee chair for the Indie Authors Committee at the Science Fiction and Fantasy Writers of America (SFWA).
I received a free copy of this book in exchange for a fair and honest review. All opinions are my own.
After walking away from the world of magic they grew up in, one person is forced to work as an exorcist after being framed as a vigilante in author Ashton K. Rose’s “The Southern Magicks”, the first book in the series of the same name.
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The Synopsis
A month ago, a demon tore the thin veneer of a normal life I’d crafted apart when it almost killed me. Revealing my husband, Eli, as the prodigal son of a powerful magic family.
When I grew up, I walked away from magic. Left my remote hometown and pretended the ghosts Gran taught me to see weren’t there while I went to university to become a librarian.
Our one secret tightly held to my heart.
Never let them know!
Two years later, with no other financial option, I moved back to my small hometown.
It was easy to pretend the fuzzy gaps in my memory weren’t there as I got a job under the strict woman who almost killed my childhood love of books.
I thought everything was perfect when I married my dream guy.
Then the attack happened.
The “good” folks at the local magical law enforcement agency knew about me the whole time. They’ve pressured me to work for them as an exorcist because they’re convinced I was a vigilante who committed multiple murders. My odd, intriguing mentor Cory watches for any misstep as I avoid the seduction attempt he’s been asked to perform.
Now they’ve accused my estranged older brother of taking over my “crimes.” I know I was framed, despite the gaps in my memory.
The worst part?
The only people who seem to believe me are my friend June and my journalist cousin Kat.
Eli, filled with spite for the local magical rulers, seems to know something I DON’T and thinks I should play them at their own game and seduce my mentor, so we can interrogate him together…
–
The Southern Magicks is a small-town paranormal urban fantasy/mystery series with a M/M/NB menage romantic subplot. For fans of “The Dresden Files,” “Rivers of London,” “Southern Vampire Mysteries,” “Alex Verus,” and “The Laundry Files” who enjoy LGBTQ+ characters and stories.
The Review
The first thing that really impressed me and drew me into this narrative was the vastness of everything. The scope of the author’s narrative and world-building was astonishing, as the small-town setting bore witness to a grand mythos that sees clashing family dynasties and powerful supernatural beings all coming together in an explosive way. The balance the author found between the mundane and everyday activities that the protagonist saw and the gritty realities of the supernatural threats that come their way was incredible to see come to life on the page.
The character development and grand themes the author delve into complimented one another really well. The themes of homophobia in the world, greed, bigotry, and prejudices, in general, all found their way into the narrative, and allowed the characters, mostly LGBTQ-driven characters, to either flourish or grow as a result of the adversity they are facing, which adds depth and emotion to the more grand supernatural story elements.
The Verdict
Captivating, entertaining, and thrilling, author Ashton K. Rose’s “The Southern Magicks” is a must-read LGBTQ+ Fantasy and Paranormal & Urban Fantasy novel and a great first entry into the series of the same name. The heart and passion for which the author tells this story and the blend of LGBTQ+ character development with grand magical world-building and emotional themes made this one story I didn’t want to put down. If you haven’t yet, be sure to grab your copy today!
Rating: 10/10
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Ashton K. Rose has a new queer fantasy/paranormal romance out: The Southern Magicks. And there’s a giveaway.
How do you prove your innocence when you don’t even remember whether you did it or not?
After a demon attack reveals Dexter’s secret – that his Gran taught him magic – the twenty-three-year-old librarian is forced to work for the local magical law enforcement agency in order to prove his loyalty, and hopefully save his grandmother from execution.
However, when someone tries to frame him for crimes he doesn’t remember committing, Dexter realizes he’ll have to start an investigation of his own. Joined by his beloved husband Eli, their best friend June, and his journalist cousin Kat, he desperately tries to prove his innocence…which is kind of difficult when gaps in his memory make him doubt everything he thinks he knows about himself.
The race against time begins. Can Dexter and his team uncover the criminals weaving the web of guilt around him before it’s too late, or is he going to lose everything and everyone he cares about?
Warnings: Assault, violent imagery, panic attack on page, police brutality
I knew Nora Rowe had died in her home without anyone telling me.
I unlocked the door and my stomach dropped as I took in the sight of the small dim living room of her kit home, filled with books and old newspapers. The acrid smell of cigarettes and wood fire smoke filled my nose as I weaved my way through the stacks. Mismatched flatpack bookshelves that warped under the strain of thousands of books lined the walls. Her living room held no other furniture apart from an old TV and a worn leather armchair—the carpet covered by stained, threadbare rugs.
I flicked the first light switch I saw twice.
Why had I expected the power to work?
I walked over to the windows and pushed the dust-caked lace curtains aside.
My eyes watered as the sun poured into the room.
In the kitchen, the doors of the cupboards hung open. The only things left behind were a few cheap plastic items scattered across the scratched lino.
I stepped on a plastic cup on the floor. I wobbled on my feet for a few sick seconds before I grabbed the counter to steady myself. The sharp aluminium edge bit into the skin of my hand.
This place was a death trap!
She had over twenty library books I had to separate from the donations. My legs shook as I walked to the shelves closest to the door.
I ignored the erratic beating of my heart and the part of my brain telling me to run and pulled out my keys to flick the small key chain light on. I placed it between my teeth and examined the spines for library tags.
When the light hit the grimy glass of a small photo frame on the shelf, I saw something move behind me. I kept my eyes fixed on the glass and used my thumb to clear a spot of dust.
If it hadn’t moved, I could have ignored the human-shaped shadow reflected in the glass.
As a kid, I’d been hassled about seeing things and having an overactive imagination. When I was seven, Gran told me the truth. I shared her secret ability to see ghosts.
I turned to look at the woman who sat in the armchair.
This Nora was a couple of years older than the one who celebrated her birthday in the photo. Her gaze focused on the TV, which would have been new the year Queen Elizabeth was coronated.
I kept my gaze locked on her, blinking one eye at a time.
I slowed my breath and took a careful step backwards to the door. The back of my calf hit something that drove several points of pain into my skin.
The stack of books I knocked over sliced through my composure just as easily as it did the silence in the room, the hard covers and spines slapping against each other as they hit the floor.
“What the fuck are you doing in my house?” Nora stood and turned to face me.
I knew I’d given the game away when I jumped out of my skin and almost dropped my keys.
I made a noise like a dying rat.
She knew I could hear her.
The first thing Gran had taught me was not to let a ghost realise you could sense them. It was dangerous—a trigger for the ire of a vengeful spirit.
“I’m sorry,” I said. “Your son gave us the key.”
“Worthless piece of shit. Letting strangers into my house. He stole my grandma’s dinner set for drug money before my body was cold. I saw him put it in his car before he called someone to deal with the mess.”
“I’ll just be going now.”
“Actually, I’ll be going.”
I felt a sharp pain in my chest.
I tried to breathe, but my lungs refused to move.
I couldn’t breathe!
The edge of my vision went black as I gasped for air. I fell flat on my front. I was so focused on trying to breathe, I almost missed the presence pushing at the back of my mind. It started small, a hint of a suggestion. The temptation to give in grew. This was her body. I was nothing but a figment of her imagination. Dexter wasn’t real. Nothing more than a thought exercise to see what it’d be like to be a man her grandson’s age. With each second, it pressed harder, and the urge to give in grew.
Forget.
It would be easy to give in and never have another worry again. All the pain and pressure of life could vanish if I relaxed and let her take control.
No!
I shivered as I tried to move my arms to push myself onto my hands and knees. I focused on the door. It was only a short crawl. I had to do it. For a second, my vision went entirely black.
No!
I gathered all the strength I had and screamed. The remaining air expelled from my lungs. I took a sharp breath. I moved my stiff arms and pushed myself onto my hands and knees.
I was Dexter; I was real, and this was my body. Nothing would take that away from me.
I closed my eyes and pushed back the ghost. I wrapped a mental net around the invasive presence in my mind and forced it back through the hole where it had entered. A hole it had dug in a part of my mind I didn’t even know existed.
One arm forwards, one leg forwards, and breathe.
Move. Breathe. Move. Breathe.
I made it to the threshold and pulled the door open. I slid headfirst down the concrete stairs to lie on my back.
The pressure in my mind slowly vanished as I fell.
I opened my eyes.
Pale blue sky, almost cloudless.
My eyes watered from the bright light.
The perfect day was oblivious to my plight. The mid-autumn day was hardly different from late summer. I could’ve laid there for hours, but the hot concrete felt like it was melting the skin off my back where my shirt had ridden up. I rolled onto the dead grass beside the cracked front path.
Sweat ran into my eyes as I sat up. I squeezed my eyes shut to clear my vision.
I could still feel the cold air wafting from the open door. I had to shut it. Mrs Gregory was looking for any excuse to fire me. I stood and walked to the threshold.
All I had to do was grab the handle, pull it closed, remove my hand from the handle and step back.
One quick movement.
I could do it.
As I stared, my eyes adjusted to the dim. She stood just inside, her hard eyes focused on me.
She smiled.
I stepped forwards and grabbed the door handle. Her hand shot out towards my arm.
Her pale, icy fingers clamped around my left wrist. I tightened the grip of my right hand around the door handle. I tucked my chin to my chest and threw myself backwards down the stairs, using the weight of my body to swing the door closed. My shirt ripped as I fell backwards; the sleeve stayed in her hand as my arm slipped free.
The air expelled from my lungs as I hit the ground.
I lay on my back and my lungs refused to work. Fixed to the spot in terror, I gasped for air as my body refused to perform. A function that was usually thoughtless had become my only thought, the pinpoint the world had narrowed to.
There was a dizzy relief as I breathed again, and after a few minutes I slowly stood.
Blood ran down my exposed arm, the only part of my body that had hit the thin concrete path.
Ghosts could touch me! Physically hurt me!
I closed my eyes and concentrated on my breathing, forcing back the panic attack that bubbled in the back of my mind. I knew about the possession, but the touch? Why hadn’t Gran told me? I needed to call Gran, but I knew she couldn’t help me. She hadn’t talked to me about magic since her accident when I was seventeen.
I suspected the accident was magic-related, but she’d kept silent about it.
She’d looked at me sceptically any time I’d mentioned magic afterwards, as though I spoke of childish whimsy and needed to grow up.
So I had.
I’d left Dunn and become a librarian, a nice stable job for a responsible young man who liked books.
A normal young man who had resigned himself to a life of pretending he couldn’t see the dead.
I’d somehow ended up with nowhere else to turn and ended up back in this town.
Now Gran was in America with Aunt Myrtle, so it was hard to get help.
I drove back to the library to pretend I’d been out for my lunch break.
Author Bio
Ashton K. Rose (They/Them) is a Queer author who writes Australian paranormal, urban fantasy and mystery fiction filled with LGBTQIA+ characters.
Ashton currently lives in sunny Queensland able to enjoy the best of the Australian bush and beach. Ashton spent their first fourteen years being raised on a remote farm shaped around the remains of an old mining town. Surrounded by the skeletons of past lives and their matching ghost stories, Ashton developed a love for fantasy, horror, and dark fairy tales from a young age.
Carrying a love of ghost stories into adulthood Ashton started writing novels about magic, vampires and ghosts. Ashton decided to set The Southern Magicks in a world heavily inspired by the backdrop of the Australia bush/beach and the speculative fiction Ashton has consumed over a lifetime.
Do your books spring to life from a character first or an idea?
I write character driven stories, so I usually come up with the plot after I have a couple of compelling/interesting characters.
Are you a full-time or part-time writer? How does that affect your writing?
I’m a part time writer, I need to work a fulltime day job to fund my expensive hobby of publishing books. Over the last couple of months dealing with the business side of indie publishing plus working on my second book has made me feel like I’m working two full time jobs.
I’d love to be a fulltime creator one day, but I’ve just reached a place where I can pay my bills and start publishing my stories. The results I’ve seen with one book I have no idea how to market have renewed my confidence. I feel like I’m running on fumes but I want to build a writing career that funds its self, even if I can’t ever write full time I’d at least love to be in the position where publish as often I need to and I can afford to release an audiobook on the same day as the eBook/paperback.
Who did your cover, and what was the design process like?
My cover was created by Coffee and Fantasy Design, I saw their design portfolio in a Tweet mentioning they had schedule space and knew they were my cover artist. I’d already received quotes from a couple of other designers, but I didn’t think I was ready to have a cover yet. I dropped everything to email the owner of Coffee and Fantasy Design with a proposal and secure one of the empty spots in their schedule.
I do think I was a slightly fussy/controlling client in the beginning, but everything was better when I let my designer take the reins. I’ve learnt a lot more about the eddicute of hiring a cover designer in the last year.
I’m very happy with my cover and it’s better than I could have ever imagined. I do wish I wasn’t so against the idea of a cover with a person on it though because they do seem to sell better in the American market even for adult fiction.
The best thing you can do with cover designer is to let them do their job. They know their job.
What’s your drink of choice?
Non-alcoholic: Either French Earl grey or any tea with rose or lavender.
Alcoholic: Floral or citrus floured gin.
What other artistic pursuits (it any) do you indulge in apart from writing?
I’ve been learning watercolor painting for a few months. I never really liked it in school because we used cheep paints and never learnt techniques. I’ve always liked the way watercolor paintings look and I knew I didn’t want to use acrylic paints after painting with as a hobby for a while as a teenager. When I wanted a creative hobby away from my computer, I decided to go all the way with learning and brought artist grade paint, cotton paper and good mid-range brushes. I wanted to learn without the quality of my tools damaging my perception of the medium.
I really enjoy the hobby and constantly find myself improving though I don’t have as much time to paint as I’d like. One day I’d like to be able to draw a graphic novel as there are a few stories I want to tell that need a visual medium to fully shine.
I received a free copy of this book in exchange for a fair and honest review. All opinions are my own.
A powerful being from another dimension and an angelic heir known as the Demon Lord of California must work together to stop dark forces from taking control of the open portal the being used to enter the human world in author Bennu Bright’s “The Demon Lord of California”, the first book in the Infinity 8 series.
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The Synopsis
Baker. Wizard. God of Space and Time. Cupcake enthusiast. How long will it take to fan the flames and enrage this gentle phoenix? Start counting.
What’s a wounded and lonely little cinnamon roll to do? Stripped of his psychic powers, Calico Winghorse flees to 19th century earth via his inter-dimensional portal. As a mixed-blood phoenix trapped in human form, he opens a bakery in the San Francisco Bay Area and quietly nurses his wounds. But the unique method of his arrival has drawn the unwanted attention of Infinity Corporation.
Representing this angelic-run company is Agustin Chavez de la Cruz, the Demon Lord of California. Even though Agustin is IC’s heir, he finds himself demoted from his duties to concentrate on his new assignment: take absolute control of the portal. But Calico refuses to sell for any price.
Before Agustin can formulate a more gracious avenue of acquiring Calico’s gateway, the demanding head of IC interferes, further complicating matters. So as negotiations stumble along, Calico and Agustin realize they both wish to establish more than a mere business arrangement. In the mean time, Calico ensures that the good people of the city are getting their fill of baked goods.
However, due to Calico’s injuries, the portal remains vulnerable to the darker forces that want it at any cost. Agustin will have to push both his angelic heritage, as well as his own psychic power to the very limits to mend someone who not only bears celestial blood, but who is also the God of Space and Time.
The Review
What a fantastic way to begin the new year. The epic proportions of this novel’s world-building were incredible to read. The vastness of the novel’s paranormal world burst open on a grand scale that kept me enthralled by the author’s storytelling. The balance the author found between humor and romance as the story delved into the more everyday, mundane, and human aspects of the story with the more epic, chilling, and heavy aspects of the cosmic scale fantasy horror elements of the story were incredible to see come to life on the page.
The depth of emotional connection the author was able to achieve with the characters in this book was superb. Not only did the author manage to craft a villain that everyone will love hating, but the protagonists of this story found a way to add a level of connection and relatability to their bond together that is not always easy to accomplish when dealing with otherworldly beings. The way Calico opens up Agustin’s world and viewpoints to the point of making sacrifice after sacrifice to help the wayward god of space and time and the connection they shared not only brought that beloved LGBTQ romance and relationship to life, but added the heart to the narrative.
The Verdict
Thoughtful, mesmerizing, and entertaining, author Bennu Bright’s “The Demon Lord of California” is a must-read fantasy and LGBTQ Paranormal novel to kick off 2023, and a great start to the author’s Infinity 8 series. The heart and compassion of the character’s arcs blend well with the action and fantasy world the author has brought to life through incredible imagery in their writing, and the twists and turns will have readers eager for more as the book comes to its climactic conclusion. If you haven’t yet, be sure to grab your copy today!
Rating: 10/10
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Bennu Bright has a new MM alt-history fantasy out (bi/pan, intersex, poly), Infinity 8 book one: The Demon Lord of California. And there’s a giveaway.
A Slow Burn Meet Cute!
Baker. Wizard. God of Space and Time. Cupcake enthusiast. How long will it take to fan the flames and enrage this gentle phoenix? Start counting.
What’s a wounded and lonely little cinnamon roll to do? Stripped of his psychic powers, Calico Winghorse flees his homeworld and travels to 19th century Earth via his inter-dimensional portal. As a mixed-blood phoenix trapped in human form, he opens a bakery in the San Francisco Bay Area and quietly nurses his wounds. But the unique method of his arrival draws the unwanted attention of Infinity Corporation.
Representing this angelic-run company is Agustin Chavez de la Cruz, the Demon Lord of California. Even though Agustin is IC’s heir, he finds himself demoted from his duties to concentrate on his new assignment: take absolute control of Calico’s portal.
But Calico refuses to sell at any price. He is also very busy ensuring that the good people of the city are getting their fill of baked goods.
Before Agustin can formulate a more gracious avenue of acquiring the gateway, the demanding head of IC interferes, further complicating matters. So as negotiations stumble along, Calico and Agustin come to realize they both want more than a stuffy business arrangement.
However, due to Calico’s injuries, the portal remains vulnerable to the darker forces that want it at any cost. Agustin will have to push both his angelic heritage, as well as his own psychic powers to the very limits to heal this sweet baker, who is also the portal world’s God of Space and Time.
The Demon Lord of California is the first book of an LGBTQ+ paranormal-fantasy series. You won’t want to miss a first love found, hidden worlds, and a recovering workaholic grasping at his second chance. All centered around the control of an otherworldly portal. So curl up with your favorite beverage, and hang out with Cal and Gus for a while. You’ll be happy you did!
Warnings: Mature readers. Robbery and assault. Mentioned sexual harassment/assault. Mental abuse from a parent. Fire, burning, burning alive. Possibly implied prostitution, and suicide (by fire).
“Please,” Calico called out, hands waving at chest-level. “Please, wait.”
The raucous noise of the motorcar’s engine ceased. The gentleman stepped down from the vehicle. “You wished to speak to me? Is it about the order? I can reduce the amount of—”
“Oh, no, no,” Calico hurried to reassure. “My brothers and I are most capable, and we will have no difficulty filling and delivering your baked goods. On time. I…” He could do this. He had to do this. His loneliness would drive him mad before the curse could ever eat him into a permanent demise.
Perhaps it would be easier if they did not have the driver as an audience. Calico extended a hand to show his customer the way to the small strip of greenery next to the bakery. He could not be sure exactly what his intentions would entail, by waylaying a most important customer in this manner. It was indecent. Immoral. But Calico felt if he did not, he would lose something, or a moment, that was so dire, he would die.
He would die anyway… Calico bit his lip.
It was well and good his gentleman customer seemed to be interested in his most unusual inquiry. So that provided additional courage. Which came as a surprise.
In the heart of this little park next door to the bakery, his customer artfully arranged himself on the bench beneath the gaslight pole. Sitting straight and tall. Sophistication and elegance radiating just as strongly as the furnace of his elemental aura.
The haziness cast from the street lamp created a most wonderful island against the coming twilight. It strangely made this rendezvous cozier. That alone bolstered Calico’s courage another notch.
When the gentleman looked up at him expectedly with those mismatched eyes, Calico felt mesmerized. Say something, he demanded of himself. Something witty and clever, so he will think me just as gentlemanly and important.
His customer appeared to be fighting the smile on his lips before clearing his throat. He turned his head—just for a second, before facing him again, expression polite.
Say something, Calico pushed himself. He is waiting. He will think me daft and even more unsound than I already am. Alright then. Here I go.
“We are both fire elementals.” The clumsy inquiry had Calico’s cheeks heating in embarrassment. He bent his head at his failure.
“One moment,” the gentleman said. He collected a small item anchored into his top hat and held it up. A blue gem embedded into a silver clip glowed, and the light circled around them like a curtain. Returning the jewel to its place on that magnificent hat, this man languidly leaned against the backrest and angled himself more in his direction.
Calico felt encouraged to pursue a friendly connection, but this intriguing magic had to be investigated. “What was that?”
“A spell my company uses. We call it the Curtain. It keeps our dealings private and unseen from the mundanes—ah, the general non-magical populations, I mean. Usually the humans.”
“That is most ingenious magic,” he exclaimed, leaning in. “I wonder how it compares to my Mirror Bubble?”
There was that smile again, most gentle, and prompting. “You wished to speak of magic? Or something more?”
“Ah, my apologies. Not magic. Will you show it to me?” Calico asked, knowing himself too eager. He tried not to wring his hands and appear desperate.
His customer’s brows rose high, and Calico knew it was in utter surprise, and perhaps curiosity. “Show you… what?” The question was somewhat wary with a touch of amusement.
“Your elemental flame. You see, I too, am—er was once gifted with the flame. I am a phoenix, you see.”
The man blinked. “A phoenix without a flame?”
Calico felt himself turn pink, and put a sheepish hand against the back of his head. “It is a most embarrassing admission,” he rushed. “I did not plan on being so forward. I apol—”
There was a quiet whoosh. Another small circle of light rose, and Calico sensed the heat instantly. There, dancing calmly inches above the gentleman’s gloved palm, was a tear-shaped flame. Flickering in shades of orange, reds, and yellows and blues. And… and yes. White.
He sucked in a breath and suddenly couldn’t breathe. It had been so long since he’d seen such a flame. Curling, writhing in all its glory. Since he was cut off from his ability, Maars did not use his out of sympathy. At least in a sensory view.
Calico swallowed the hitch in his breath. How could this gentleman carry so many colors within? Was he that powerful?
“You’re shaking, Mr. Scrivens.” The flame disappeared, and there was a steadying hand at his shoulder. “Are you well? Perhaps you should sit down.”
Calico touched that hand, as if to anchor it in place. “Yes, yes, I should.” The wooden bench was chilly against his rump. “It-it is quite cold this evening. May I see it again?”
The request was granted. Calico just stared at the dancing shapes. Wishing. Forever longing.
A few seconds passed before the gentleman spoke. “How long has it been since you were unable to create?”
Create. It was an elemental term Calico had heard bandied about as he eavesdropped upon conversations among the local wizard shops. The question sent warm tingles and shivers of fire down his spine.<
Staring at the flame so snug and content curling about the gentleman’s gloved fingertips, Calico suddenly found himself saying, “Sixteen months, two days, seventeen hours and 26 and a half seconds.”
The gentleman cocked his head to the side. He lowered his hand, and the summoned fire faded. “That’s quite precise.”
Indeed! He should not be able to access any of his psychic powers. “I am the God of Space and Time,” Calico said offhandedly.
There was a pause that almost became awkward. “Well, yes. About that. Mr. Scrivens, while we are here, alone, I’d like to take the opportunity to discuss your delivery further.”
“Oh, yes,” Calico replied with renewed energy. “What is it? Would you like to add my famous cupcakes to the order? It is no trouble.”
“N-no. That’s not it. Well, the baked goods are for a recruitment campaign.”
“Recruitment?”
“Yes. My company has need of your skills.”
Calico paused before he made a silly fish out of himself. As much as his mind was centered upon his magic, what if this man merely wanted an extra baker on his payroll, and not a wizard? He had to allow the man to formally extend the offer.
Author Bio
Hi! I’m Bennu Bright. Fantasy and paranormal tales have always felt like home. And I’ve always adored getting into the gritty details of a character’s goals and relationships. With my newfound zest for the craft of writing, my work has joined the ranks of romance and the romantic.
Born and raised in the San Francisco Bay Area, I spend my days nose to the keyboard, or attempting to revive an ancient passion for drawing.
J. Scott Coatsworth has a new queer sci fi collection out: Androids & Aliens. And there’s a giveaway.
Androids & Aliens is Scott’s third short story collection – eight sci fi and sci-fantasy shorts that run the gamut from cyborgs to (comedic) alien invasions:
Rise: Because of the rise in sea levels associated with climate change, Venice vanished beneath the lagoon half a century ago. But what if we could bring it back?
Ping: I was a real estate agent by day and a museum curator in the evenings at a sci-fi museum. What I saw one night changed everything.
What the Rain Brings: Miriam struggles to make a living in post-climate-change Vancouver. But her friend Catalina has it even worse in the Arizona desert. So Miri hatches a plan.
High Seven: Zan dreams of making full reals – immersive live virtual reality skins – but his low test score may doom him to a life of cheap graphic coding.
Full Real: Dek’s given up his life of spying for the city. But one more case awaits him. Will he regret it more if he takes it. or if he turns it down?
Shit City: The Bay Area’s being walloped by a hurricane, and seventeen-year-old Jason Vasquez has been relocated to a refugee city in the Nevada Desert. Will it be temporary shelter, or a change of life?
Firedrake: Kerry has always wondered about his deadly powers. But a mysterious bunch of violet roses start him on the path to discovery – even if he’s not sure he’s going to like what he finds.
The Last Human Heart: I’m one of the Remainers, the few cyborg humans still living on this busted planet. But if my still-human heart finally gives out, I may not live to find out the truth.
This is the first time all of these stories have all been collected in one place, and the first time the Pacific Climate Tryptich – What the Rain Brings, High Seven, and Full real – have been published in any form.
Warnings: Full Real contains attempted kidnapping and references to off-page physical and sexual abuse.
I slip out of the culvert as the sun falls behind the tawny hills on the horizon, a green flash lighting the sky. My heart beats at a steady pace.
Climbing back up onto the highway, I check the co-ordinates. With luck and a steady pace, I should reach the Trading Station by morning.
The stag crosses my mind again, that strange stare, beast to beast. There’s so little out here for it to live on or in, no trees or shade or shelter from the blistering sun. Just grass. Lots and lots of grass. Where did you go?
Taking one measured step after another, I start on my way, timing them to the beating of my heart.
A heady sense of possibility fills my chest. It’s strange, something I haven’t felt in years. I’ve traveled the length of the continent, from New York to California. I’ve been to Alaska and as far south as the isthmus, where rising seas finally finished the work of the Panama Canal, severing North and South America. In a few short centuries, humankind accomplished what Nature had labored for eons to do.
An hour later, I get my first look at the towers of Sacramento. I haven’t been here in decades, but it looks much the same as before. Its hulking skyscrapers and superscrapers look like bloody teeth in the infrared. Many are broken. Some still standing, others long since crashed back to the ground whence they came. They glow with stored heat, slowly bleeding it off into the atmosphere as the air cools.
Whence they came? I snort. I’m in rare form tonight—practically Shakespearian. Erik would have teased me endlessly for that.
I frown. He’s been on my mind a lot lately. Mortality having her fun with me?
I flash back to nights in Shanghai, fighting with my metal brothers and sisters in the street-to-street combat of the last wars. Flashes of light and explosions as nano bombs fell into civilian neighborhoods, eating everything in their path—stone and brick, flesh and bone.
I shudder. I should delete those memories—they only bring me pain. And yet… sometimes we need to remember the pain, so we don’t repeat it. But we can’t let it define us.
Who said that? Erik? My father?
No. It was Cassie. My erstwhile traveling companion for a couple years after the upload. When all that remained in this empty, broken world were the bots and empty, broken cyborgs like Cassie and me.
She’d finally shut herself down two decades ago. I’m tired of living, David.
Pain leaches away some of my good will. Maybe she had it right. Maybe it’s time for me, too, to give in to the inevitable. But I’m not quite ready yet, so I just keep moving.
Author Bio
Scott lives with his husband Mark in a yellow bungalow in Sacramento. He was indoctrinated into fantasy and sci fi by his mother at the tender age of nine. He devoured her library, but as he grew up, he wondered where all the people like him were.
He decided that if there weren’t queer characters in his favorite genres, he would remake them to his own ends.
A Rainbow Award winning author, he runs Queer Sci Fi, QueeRomance Ink, and Other Worlds Ink with Mark, sites that celebrate fiction reflecting queer reality, and is the committee chair for the Indie Authors Committee at the Science Fiction and Fantasy Writers of America (SFWA).
Are there underrepresented groups or ideas featured if your book? If so, discuss them.
Yes, always! Ever since I started writing seriously, I’ve made a point of including folks from across the LGBTQ spectrum. I’ve also written BIPOC characters, a deaf character, and one with OCD. In Androids and Aliens, most of the characters are gay, but there’s a non-binary character and a lesbian couple as well. And do cyborgs count? 😛
How do you approach covers for your indie stories?
I create most of my own these days. I’ve been using photoshop in our day job for years to work on photos for our websites, and have learned to use it more creatively these last three. I’ve also had some help with typography and cover design from Kelley York at Sleepy Fox Designs. She did the type for A&A too. 🙂
As a child, what did you want to be when you grew up?
I always loved signing, but somehow I just didn’t have the rock star vibe. I wanted to be an astronomer, and then I found out how much math it took to be an astronomer. I just wanted to look at the pretty nebulas, planets and stars. So that left “writer”!
What action would your name be if it were a verb?
To bounce one’s leg in a frenetic fashion.
“That guy scotted his leg so hard he knocked over the table.”
*grin*
What are you working on now?
I’m just about finished with a new four book trilogy. Yeah, you read that right. It was supposed to be three, but the last book was too long so I split it in half. It’s called the Tharassas Cycle, and it’s loosely connected to my other two trilogies. Book one, The Dragon Eater, will release in March.
The audiobook version of Skythane, my first novel, will be out in audio in February.
And next, I’ll be starting on Coredivers, book two of the Redemption Cycle, after Dropnauts.
I received a free copy of this book in exchange for a fair and honest review. All opinions are my own.
Author Eric Raglin takes readers on a perilous journey through 18 short stories that explore the depths of humanity and the horrors of our world (and the next) in the collection “Extinction Hymns”.
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The Synopsis
A vengeful owl haunts the man who poached her. A desperate entrepreneur holds a ghost hostage for profit. An addict finds hope and terror in an imprisoned angel. A father and son search their dying world for something to eat other than human flesh. Eric Raglin, author of Nightmare Yearnings, returns with his second collection of horror and weird fiction. Strange, terrifying, and tender, these eighteen stories explore what happens when extinction comes for us all.
The Review
This is both an emotional and frightening collection of stories. The author does an incredible job of capturing the grief and emotional weight of these characters and their circumstances, all without shying away from the terrifying and haunting atmosphere these stories instill in the reader. The equally haunting imagery that these tales conjure up captures the chilling nature of these stories and reflects the horrors of humanity and our world in general, from grief and loss to addiction and greed.
The heart of all of the author’s stories has to be the world-building and character development that these stories brought to life. Whether it was the injured workman using the ghost in his home to bring him much-needed money, or the man desperate to understand his husband’s tragic loss, the decisions made in desperation and grief added depth to the author’s plunge into horror. The variety of supernatural occurrences made this an equally entertaining and chilling collection as much as it was poignant.
The Verdict
Haunting, thrilling, and engaging, author Eric Raglin’s “Extinction Hymns” is a must-read horror short story collection. The inclusion of LGBTQ+ themes and characters throughout these stories added more layers to this growing collection and kept the collection more relatable and engaging for readers overall. If you haven’t yet, be sure to grab your copy today!
Rating: 10/10
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About the Author
Eric Raglin (he/him) is a Nebraska-based speculative fiction writer. He frequently writes about queer issues, the terrors of capitalism, and body horror. His debut short story collection is NIGHTMARE YEARNINGS. He hosts the Cursed Morsels Podcast and is the editor of SHREDDED and ANTIFA SPLATTERPUNK. Find him at ericraglin.com or on Twitter @ericraglin1992.
Christine Meierz has a new MM sci-fi romance coming out in January, Farryn’s War book one: Rembrandt’s Station. And we have the cover reveal!
Stationmaster and exiled aristocrat Albert St. John Rembrandt—Bertie to his friends—is in love with a man he’s always believed he can’t have, and finding out the hard way that some Tolari are as poisonous as their planet is only the beginning of his troubles.
A ship has gone missing. His station is in crisis. Bertie must somehow recover his health and manage the disaster while trying to decide whether to accept genetic modification in order to be with the man he loves.
The Monral slammed his other hand onto the treatment bed and looked up at the apothecary, knowing his face betrayed the pain of his next words. “You cannot give it to him unwilling.”
She nodded, her own face betraying nothing. Grimly, he poured more of his own strength through his fingers into Bertie, who rallied a little, bringing the pain roaring back. Pain itself could kill a human. The path to keeping Bertie alive lay along a cliff’s edge. Any mistake would plunge him into the dark.
The apothecary pointed her chin at his hand. “We will do all we can for him, but high one, you must pace yourself.”
He shook his head and turned back to Bertie, willing him to remain in the light. Stay alive. Stay alive! Stubborn human! Why? Why did he risk losing his own life to remain unmodified, to hold himself apart from a belonging he clearly desired?
Poisoned, sickened, in extreme pain—Bertie could not be thinking clearly. Did that give the apothecaries an excuse to disregard his oft-stated opinion about the blessing?
Or—he could make Bertie want the blessing.
The Monral lowered his head. No. That, Bertie would never forgive. When he realized he had been manipulated—and he would—he would hate them all.
At least he would be alive to hate them.
The Monral wiped at stinging eyes. He could not betray Bertie now, though the consequences were unthinkable. He touched his forehead to Bertie’s cheek, let his senses wrap around his lover’s presence. Pain. Everywhere, pain. It crescendoed. Bertie cried out, and the Monral drew a harsh, gasping breath. It was too much, and he broke the contact to straighten. A chair touched the back of his legs; he dropped heavily onto it. Bertie had to live. He had to. If he would not take the blessing, then the Monral would do what he could do, even give every last bit of his own strength to save him. He could live with prolonged exhaustion. He was unsure if he could live without Bertie. Not anymore.
Bertie writhed. “I don’t want to die alone,” he rasped. “I don’t—” The last word broke off into another scream.
The Monral’s vision glazed. “You are not alone, my love,” he said, when the scream subsided into choking sobs. “And you will not die. Not while I am here.”
Bertie sighed, and his emotional landscape fell into a disorganized chaos of shallow unconsciousness. His body spasmed and twitched. Around him, the apothecaries, nurses, and aides moved rapidly about their varied tasks, but even unconscious, the pain hardly dulled, radiating from Bertie like heat from a fire. The Monral sagged in the chair, exhaustion fogging his thoughts. He had poured almost everything he had into Bertie. It was still not enough.
“You will not die while I am here,” he repeated, and ignored caution to pull what he still could through his ruling bond, pushing that through his fingers.
He tried to find more. There was nothing left. He would have to wait for the energy available to him through his ruling bond to replenish itself, but he was out of time. Bertie was out of time. Already his glow began to dim again. Tears welled up and spilled down the Monral’s cheeks. He was going to lose him. He was going to lose Bertie.
No. He gathered his remaining strength. If giving it left him unfit to rule, so be it, so long as it kept Bertie alive. If it was not enough—
He took a breath, facing the reality before him. If it was not enough, then Albert St. John Rembrandt, the Duke of New Norfolk’s unwanted youngest son, would walk into the dark surrounded by the love of Monralar.
“I am yours, my love,” the Monral whispered. “I will always be yours.”
He took a deep breath, gathering himself.
A feeling of beingwatched stole over him, and with it, a sense of Parania’s beloved. He paused. Laura was awake and listening, then. Or she was traveling about while her body slept. Why was she here?
Was it simply to offer comfort when Bertie—if Bertie—when—his thoughts stuttered to a halt. More tears spilled.
Then something touched the very core of his heart and soul, refreshing and replenishing, and suddenly he was alert. Energy poured in from his ruling bond as if he had yet given nothing at all. Startled hope flooded him. He drew another deep breath and directed the energy into Bertie. The dimming stopped.
From across the stronghold, he felt the smile on Laura’s face.
* * *
As dawn approached, the mood in the apothecaries’ quarters lightened with the sky. Even to the Monral’s untrained eye, as bad as Bertie looked, his color was better, pale as a summer cloud but no longer grey. Much of the pain had subsided, to the relief of everyone in the room, and though his breathing was shallow, it had settled into an even pattern. The Monral caught the head apothecary’s eye and lifted an eyebrow. She nodded.
“He is out of immediate danger,” she said. “We will do all we can to repair the damage to his body, high one, but it is extensive, and he will require many tens of days to fully recover. He could not have survived without the strength you lent him.”
Its work done, his connection to the beloved of Parania guttered like a candle flame and went out, leaving his chest aching but his body thrumming with energy. Mother of All, he thought. What power Laura had. And how much longer could her Paran hide the fact of it from those who would use or destroy her?
The Monral turned back to Bertie, whose eyes had slitted open. The whites were entirely stained red with blood. “Good morning,” he told him gently, in English.
Bertie managed a faint smile and said, in a hoarse whisper, “You sure know how to show a man a good time.”
Author Bio
Award-winning author Christie Meierz writes space opera and science fiction romance set on a world of empaths at the edge of a dystopic human empire. Her published works include her PRISM award-winning debut novel, The Marann, three more novels set in Tolari space, and several short stories.
She is a member of the Science Fiction & Fantasy Writers Association (SFWA), spent 10 years raising sheep in Broome County, New York, and has been declared capable of learning Yup’ik.
Christie now lives in Rochester, NY, where she and her mathematician husband serve as full-time staff to two parlor panthers known to humans as Banichi the Assassin and Miss Myrtle the Hurricane Cat. (Their true names remain a mystery). When she’s not writing, she writes about writing on her blog, her personal Facebook page, where she welcomes comments and friend requests, and her Facebook Author Page.
