Blog Tour

BLOG TOUR: “The Book of Oded” by Oded Kassirer

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Book Title: The Book of Oded, Chapter 2

Author and Publisher: Oded Kassirer

Release Date: October 8, 2025

Genres: Gay Non-Fiction Memoir

Tropes: A kind of forbidden love

Themes: Coming out, HIV/AIDS

Length: approx. 25 000 words/ 94 pages

Heat Rating: No sexual content

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

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Paperback also available from IngramSpark

A Story of Love in 17 parts

A poetic and deeply personal exploration of love, identity, and spiritual truth through a queer lens — part reflection, part quiet confession. This book speaks to anyone who’s searched for belonging or inner peace.

Blurb  The Book of Oded, Chapter 2: A Story of Love in 17 Parts is a true story told through seventeen short reflections, each introduced by a photograph. This real-life memoir follows Oded Kassirer’s journey through love in its many forms—love that comforts, love that tests us, and love that stays even when people are gone. With honesty and openness, Oded shares moments from his own life, weaving together memory, relationships, and the everyday search for meaning. Each part begins with an image, creating a rhythm of words and photos that invite the reader to pause, reflect, and connect. The book moves gently between joy and loss, humor and sorrow, offering a window into how love shapes us over time. The Book of Oded, Chapter 2 is both deeply personal and universal—a reminder that behind every story of one life, there is also the story of love itself. Excerpt Looks like I don’t have to do that anymore, since Gil and I are dating now. Well… Gil being a lieutenant in the Israeli army, we only see each other once every two or three weeks, for maybe a day and a half. So we’re dating-lite. But there’s more. You see, I’m out, and Gil is… well, I’m in a bigger closet than Gil.. OK, let me explain something about coming out and closets: you don’t just come out once and you’re done. No. You come out of the closet you’re in, into a slightly bigger closet. First, friends know. Then some family. Then all family, maybe a few coworkers. And so on, into bigger and bigger closets, until one day you think you’re totally out. But when you hesitate to put a photo of you and your boyfriend on your work desk, you realize: you’re still in a closet. A really big one, but still a closet. So in my case, my friends know, and some of my family knows too. But as I start dating Gil, I find myself stepping backwards into a smaller closet. Back to lying to my family and friends. They ask: “So how do you know this guy Gil? He’s four, five years younger than you.” “Oh, he’s my friend.” “But we are your friends…” And with Gil’s family it’s worse. We have to invent a background story, making sure our lies match. It’s back to lying and living a double life — something I’ve always hated. Maybe because we don’t actually live together, and only see each other once in a while, I agree to it. Maybe I don’t value enough the freedom of being out. Or maybe I need to go through this to finally understand it. And so Gil and I continue to keep our relationship very low profile. We have to be creative to communicate. Gil is stationed at a small base in the Golan Heights, just a few hours north of Tel Aviv, right on the border with Syria. When I call him, I can’t say what I really want to say. All the lines are tapped—not to catch gay soldiers, but to make sure nobody leaks classified information. Gil, being an intelligence lieutenant, is very aware of this. So even saying “I miss you” is, for him, like shouting into the phone: “GAY! GAY! GAY!” So we come up with a code. We both love listening to Sarah Vaughan, the jazz singer. “Sarah” becomes our password. Our way of saying what we can’t. “Hey Gil, how are you? Oh, by the way, Sarah really misses you.” “Tell her I miss her too.” “And she wants you to know that she loves you.” “Tell her I love her too.” It works—until one day, Gil can’t come to the phone and I leave a message with someone else: “Could you please tell Gil that… Sarah misses him?” When Gil finds out, all hell breaks loose.

About the Author 

Oded Kassirer was born and raised in Tel Aviv, Israel, and moved to Los Angeles in 1988. His creative journey began in film and animation, where he worked on major studio projects before turning toward acting, writing, and personal storytelling.

Alongside his career in the arts, Oded has explored photography and visual expression, blending images and words to reflect the intimate moments of everyday life. The Book of Oded: A Story of Love in 17 Parts is his first book – a true story that combines memoir and photographs in a deeply personal exploration of love, memory, and connection.

He lives in Los Angeles, with his husband, Oscar.

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BLOG TOUR: “The Care of Broken Things” by October Arden

BLOG TOUR – NEW RELEASE

Book Title: The Care of Broken Things

Author and Publisher: October Arden

Release Date: August 1, 2025

Tense/POV: Third person, past tense, single POV

Genres: Contemporary MMM prison romance (leans into literary with a strong romantic core)

Tropes: Grumpy/sunshine, found family, hurt/comfort, healing from grief, obsessive devotion, fake dating, prison husband, marriage of convenience, wrongfully imprisoned, morally gray characters, polyamory that heals

Themes: Trauma recovery, self-loathing to self-worth, redemption through love, the violence of tenderness

Heat Rating: 2 out of 5

Length: 82 000 words/320 pages

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

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Some loves rewrite your sentence

Blurb 

Samuel has spent years building walls.
Not the prison’s concrete ones, but the kind that keep lives from bleeding into each other. As the prison’s self-appointed librarian, he’s carved out a fragile peace where silence is his shield. The inmates call him The Ice Queen—a title he wears like armor. After a lifetime of being preyed upon, he knows better than to let anyone close.
Then Eli arrives like sunlight through bulletproof glass.
A wrongfully convicted pediatrician, and unbearably kind, Eli is everything Samuel knows to avoid, so when he steps in to protect the man, it’s supposed to be a one-time act of mercy.
But Eli’s husband has another plan.
Nathaniel—who looks at Samuel like he’s something more than a convict—makes a request that shatters everything:
“Be his prison husband. Love him where I can’t.”
It’s a lie that should be easy. Samuel’s an expert at deception. But the longer he plays the role, the more the lines blur: Eli’s warmth seeping into his frozen bones, Nathaniel’s quiet strength, the whispered secrets of Eli’s daughter who trusts only him.
Now the man who built his life on solitude hoards these moments like contraband.
Some loves rewrite your sentence.

A devastating queer romance about the families we carve from our own ribs, and the love that refuses to let us stay broken.

Excerpt

Twenty minutes later he kicked Eli’s bed. It had been a day and a half since the library incident, and he hadn’t spoken a word to him since. He’d thought Eli’s perseverance would continue, but maybe the man was learning about personal space. He knew he ought to be happy about that, but the change unnerved him. He didn’t like things that didn’t come with explanations.

Eli didn’t open his eyes. “Hi, Samuel.”

“How’d you know it was me?”

“Your particular brand of hospitality.” The man paused. “Also, you smell like Reese’s cups.”

“You can smell that from here?”

He took a somewhat discreet sniff of himself, but all he could detect was the shitty prison detergent.

“Hunger sharpens the sense.”

He was appalled. “You still haven’t—It’s been 48 hours!”

“I’ve done 100 hour fasts before.”

That boggled the mind. “Why?”

“To rest my gut after glutenings, mostly,” Eli said. “Why is it that you can ask questions of me, but won’t answer any of mine?” 

True to form, he ignored the question and upended his new purchases onto the bed. Eli’s eyes sprang open. “What—”

“No more fasting.”

Eli picked up one of the packages on his chest. Sardines.

“They’ve got Omega 3’s, right? That’s good for inflammation. There’s some salmon there, too, in those pouches.”

Eli sat up. Packages and pouches slithered off him and onto the bedspread.

Suddenly nervous, Samuel found himself rambling. “I wasn’t sure if your commissary account was up and running yet, and the stuff I gave you before were things you couldn’t eat, so I—”

The man was smiling. Not smirking, not grinning—and Samuel knew he was in trouble. 

“You’re amazing,” Eli said, as if he hadn’t just ruined a man’s life. “Thank you. And you’re right. My commissary account still isn’t linked up yet.”

As if that wasn’t enough, Eli then swept a space clear on the bed and pointed his invitation. It was the smile Samuel would blame later. He sat where indicated, more pliant and cooperative than he’d ever been in his life.

Eli was impressed. “This is a better haul than I was expecting. I might actually survive on this.”

Samuel was beginning to come back to himself. It was easier now that Eli was sorting through the food, like the spell of that smile had been broken—or at least weakened.

“Who’s Nathaniel?”

Eli flashed him a grin. “My murderer-hating husband.” He ripped open a bag of trail mix. “Don’t suppose I could trouble you to eat the M&M’s out of these for me?”

He expected the man to dig in, but Eli only ate an almond, a cashew, and a peanut before setting the package down. That broke his brain a little. “Aren’t you hungry?”

Eli brought the pouch of sardines up to his mouth and ripped it open with his teeth. “Labels are useful, but they’re not foolproof. If I haven’t reacted in half an hour, I’ll eat a little more.”

Samuel knew that if he’d gone more than two days without food, he’d have gnawed his own leg off. “Why didn’t you come to me?”

“Hmm?” 

“You knew you couldn’t eat what I bought you, and you knew they’d continue to keep screwing up the special meal thing. So why didn’t you come to me? We could have done this two days ago.”

Eli fished a sardine out with his fingers. The slimy things looked repulsive, and the smell alone was enough to knock someone out. Eli caught him staring and tilted the pouch toward him. “Pardon my rudeness. Would you like some?”

He had to swallow bile. “Your husband’s never going to kiss you again.”

About the Author  

October Arden writes emotionally raw queer stories that live somewhere between literary fiction and romance. Their work explores fluid identities, found families, co-dependent devotion, and complicated love—often through the lens of characters who are chronically ill, neurodivergent, or quietly self-destructive. These are stories for anyone who’s ever felt unwanted or unseen, where even the most damaged hearts can find a home.

October loves hearing from readers, so feel free to reach out, ask questions, or suggest what you’d like to see next. You can also join the newsletter to stay in touch—and as a thank you, you’ll receive a free copy of Starting with Cake, a quietly unhinged neurodivergent love story full of snack cakes, janitor uniforms, and the kind of care that sneaks up on you. Find out about new books and other extras at octoberarden.com

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BLOG TOUR: “Late Bloomer Baby Boomer” by Steve Milliken

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Book Title: Late Bloomer Baby Boomer: A Collection of Humorous Essays About Being Gay Back in the Day and Finally Finding My Way

Author and Publisher: Steve Milliken

Release Date: December 2022

Genres: Memoir/Biography

Tropes: Self-discovery through humor, finding identity, acceptance, and resilience by laughing through life’s absurdities.

Themes: Finding humor as a gay Baby Boomer – Because the coming-out process never really ends, and it’s best to laugh along the way.

Heat Rating: 2 flames

Length: 66 000 words/228 pages

It is a standalone non-fiction book.

Goodreads

 

Buy Links – Available in Kindle Unlimited

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Laugh-out-loud stories about coming out, coming of age, and coming to terms with myself—finally!

 

Blurb

What happens when the class clown embraces his truth, becomes a teacher, and takes on the absurdities of life? Hilarity ensues.

In LATE BLOOMER BABY BOOMER: A Collection of Humorous Essays About Being Gay Back in the Day and Finally Finding My Way, Steve Milliken delivers a laugh-out-loud memoir packed with sharp wit, self-deprecating humor, and occasional bursts of wisdom. With the observational humor of David Sedaris and the candid charm of Augusten Burroughs, these essays explore self-discovery, urban teaching misadventures, and the hilarity of navigating adulthood as a gay baby boomer.

Spoiler: It’s a parade of pitfalls, pratfalls, and punchlines.

Review Quote:
“Delivers great sendups of the gay dating scene… impressive comedic timing. Each essay is short and snappy… A wide-ranging collection driven by humor and insight.” — Kirkus Reviews

 

Excerpt 1: From “Introduction”

“Some people ask me, ‘Steve, who’s the target audience for your book?’

And I tell them:

‘My book is for anyone who is gay, knows someone who’s gay, or someone who is NOT gay but would like to be! Or… a straight guy who’s had a gay experience—like wearing a belt that matches his shoes.’”

“Back in my distant youth, I pursued a career as an actor, but the problem with acting for me was that I was a comic character actor trapped in a leading man’s body. If Rodney Dangerfield and Grace Kelly had a baby, that would have been me.

But to be honest, I never wanted to be rich and famous… and so far, that’s working out great! Not really…”

 

Excerpt 2: From “Epistolary Possibilities for a New Year”

“After not working out for a month, I arrived at the gym only to realize my gym bag had turned into a mildew science project thanks to a rogue water bottle. Unfortunately, I discovered this catastrophe only after I’d stripped down in the locker room. I panicked, naturally, but I was too far gone to turn back. I had no choice but to wear my stinky clothes.”

“Now, I’m not religious, but in moments like these, I consider a higher power. I clutched my hands together and said a novena to the patron saint of putrid smells: ‘Our Lady of Sacred Stench, please help me now.’”

“Once on the gym floor, I tried to keep a safe distance from everyone. But when someone got too close, I’d suddenly dash to another part of the gym for no apparent reason. I’d seen my cat do this, so it seemed worth a try…”

 

Excerpt 3: From “Bitch Ass Snitch”

“One day, I ‘snitched’ to the Dean about a student of mine who had tagged his desk with a box cutter blade. The next day, when he came back, in front of the whole class, he called me a ‘bitch ass snitch’ and ran out of the classroom.

Later that day, in the staff parking lot, I discovered someone had vandalized my car.”

‘Gee, I wonder who that could have been?’

Of course, I came to one conclusion… ‘Karma’s a bitch… for a bitch ass snitch!’”

 

Excerpt 4: From “Changing Closets”

“Originally, I was in the closet for being gay… but now I’m in the closet about my age.

To counter the effects of aging, I’ve reluctantly adhered to diet and exercise mandates. I even tried becoming a vegetarian… although not a strict one.

Occasionally, I’d eat chicken, fish, and ass. I’m kidding, I kid. I didn’t eat chicken…”

 

About the Author

Steve Milliken, a native Californian who never left—thanks to a rent-controlled Santa Monica apartment—is a writer, humorist, and recovering class clown who has spent a lifetime finding the comedy in life’s quirks and curveballs. A gay baby boomer with a knack for self-deprecating wit, he’s been an inner-city teacher, a reluctant adult, and an expert in the fine art of laughing at himself.

In LATE BLOOMER BABY BOOMER: A Collection of Humorous Essays About Being Gay Back in the Day and Finally Finding My Way, Steve shares sharp, heartfelt, and laugh-out-loud stories about coming out, inner-city teaching, and navigating life one misadventure at a time. His writing has been compared to the observational humor of David Sedaris and the candid storytelling of Augusten Burroughs.

When he’s not finding the humor in everyday life, Steve creates and shares short comedy videos online based on excerpts from his book, proving that some stories are best told with a punchline… and good lighting.

 

Author Links

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BLOG TOUR: “Breakaway for Love” by Koko Klein. Rafflecopter Giveaway Included!

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Book Title: Breakaway for Love

Author and Cover Artist: Koko Klein

Publisher: Sicherheit & Consulting Krautgasser GmbH

Release Date: March 3, 2025

Tense/POV: first person, present tense, alternating POV

Genres: Contemporary MM Sports (Hockey) Romance

Tropes: Enemies-to-Lovers, Gay Awakening, Forced Proximity

Themes: Coming out, Homophobic Parents, Olympic Games

Heat Rating: 4-5 flames

Length: 64 000 words/ 230 pages

It’s book one of the Hockey & Love series. 

Every book in the series is a stand-alone story with a guaranteed happy end. 

The next book in the series will be published in May. 

It does not end on a cliffhanger.

Goodreads

Buy Links – Available in Kindle Unlimited

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Blurb 

Between hatred and desire.

Nico was brought up to hate Daniel. The feud between their families is centuries old. But now they are both part of the Terengian national ice hockey team.

Working together is proving difficult. A medal at the Winter Olympics in Beijing seems increasingly out of reach. Frustration threatens to tear the team apart. Still Nico and Daniel grow closer every day.

But Nico is keeping a secret. A secret that threatens his very existence. But with every second they spend together, Daniel comes closer to uncover it.

Excerpt 

Daniel:

Stay away from the Hovenbergs, my grandfather’s voice booms in my head.

I hesitate for a moment but then kick the cone high into the air. The next moment I hear cursing and my grin becomes so wide there’s a serious risk my face will explode.

The slender figure of my arch-enemy steps through the trees and stops at the edge of the pond. In his right hand, he’s carrying my new favorite toy as if it were something incredibly disgusting. In the dim light, I see that his face is contorted with rage. His ear-length hair is a bit disheveled.

Did I hit him in the head? Oops! I should probably apologize, but I’ve always loved winding him up, even back at school — he’s cute when he’s angry.

Whoa! Where did that thought come from?

I feel a little heat rising to my face, and I hope the poor light and my cheeks being red from the cold will hide my blush. Instead, I try to keep the defiant grin on my face.

“Have a go if you think you’re tough enough,” I tease. 

Why am I provoking him? I’ve no idea what I’m doing. I should just apologize and let him go back to the hotel, but as captain, don’t I have a responsibility for him? Shouldn’t I at least try to get him on my side — nemesis or not?

Then Hovenberg swings his arm and throws the pinecone at me. I take it deftly with my chest like a soccer player and even manage to bounce it back and forth twice on each knee before it lands on the ice again. Now, that was impressive, even if I say so myself.

Hovenberg hasn’t moved from the edge of the pond. His arms are folded in front of his chest and he’s glaring at me. I’m sure if the light were better, I’d see storm clouds collecting in his eyes. He’s so easily provoked. That’s why it’s so much fun, and why, even in our school days, it was so hard to follow my grandparents’ advice.

I kick my recovered cone so that it lands right at Hovenberg’s feet, but he doesn’t move an inch.

“Is the big bad hockey player suddenly afraid of the nasty ice?” My voice drips with sarcasm.

Nico’s stern expression becomes even darker. If he were an animal, he’d be growling at me by now. In fact, I do hear a rumbling sound, although I’m not entirely sure because of the breeze rustling the leaves of the trees.

My nemesis sets a foot on the dark ice surface. He looks totally unsure of himself, and I wonder if he’s never been on natural ice before. I spent half my childhood on frozen ponds like this one. The ice is thick enough for safety which anyone who grew up here should know. 

That consideration sparks another recollection of the rumors that were going around at school about him. Supposedly, Hovenberg’s father had his own little ice rink built for his son on their property, and if that’s true, it must have cost a fortune! My family is one of the richest in the country, but when I once suggested to my grandparents that instead of the tennis courts which nobody used, we could build an ice rink, my grandpa’s reply was to flip me the bird.

Hovenberg puts his second foot on the ice eventually and stands there in his white moon boots, his legs spread wide. His posture looks off. I can’t read it for sure, but I wonder whether he’s getting ready to pounce on me, or if he’s just damn scared and trying not to show it.

Then the pinecone shoots across the ice toward me. I stop it with my right foot and shoot it back to Hovenberg. This goes back and forth a few times, but Hovenberg doesn’t move from the edge of the pond. 

Is he really that scared?

Until now, I’d made sure the cone always landed at the feet of my impromptu playmate. Now, I decide to make this more of a challenge. I kick the pinecone past him towards an imaginary goal behind him, but Hovenberg skillfully intercepts the cone and flips it back to me just as I did to him. It’s like being back at school as we try to outdo each other.

My mood lifts as we play. It was fun playing on the ice by myself, but it’s definitely more fun with two, and the longer we play, the more I forget who I’m having fun with. Forget that I actually hate him. Forget everything that stands between us.

My winter boots are being tested to their limits and my breath is coming out in gasps when all of a sudden, the pinecone flies toward me at an unexpected angle. Without a second thought, I dart to the right and jump to prevent the cone from sailing into my goal, but the ice gives way to snow, and I stumble over the edge of the pond and land in a soft pile. The breath is momentarily knocked out of me by the shocking cold that spreads over my face and trickles down my collar, then laughter takes over.

When was the last time I had this much fun?

I turn onto my back slowly but when I do, the laughter dies in my throat.

I’m alone!

The makeshift ice rink is deserted.

About the Author  

The Austrian bestselling author Koko Klein lives with her husband, son, and two crazy cats in the heart of Vienna’s historic city center. She loves to walk on roads kings were already travelling centuries ago. When she’s not busy coming up with new stories (once again failing to sleep because of them), she plays the piano (until her son has had enough of classical music), devours books (until the cats need to be petted right now), or plays board games (until her husband prefers to switch on the PlayStation).

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BLOG TOUR: “To Tempt a Troubled Earl” by Fearne Hill. Rafflecopter Giveaway Included!

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Book Title: To Tempt A Troubled Earl

Author: Fearne Hill

Publisher: NineStar Press

Cover Artist: Melody Pond

Release Date: March 4, 2025

Tense/POV: Third person/past tense/alternating POV

Genres:  MM Regency Romance 

Tropes:  Adventure, Enemies to lovers, hurt-comfort, slow burn, opposites attract

Themes: Humorous, aristocracy, scheming shenanigans on the side

Heat Rating: 4 flames

Length: 75 0000 words

It is book 1 in a new series. It does not end on a cliffhanger. 

The next book is out later this year

Goodreads

Buy Links 

Nine Star Press | Amazon US | Amazon UK

A devil’s bargain, an uneasy alliance.

Blurb 

A chancer and a rogue, Kit Angel is down on his luck. Presenting himself at Rossingley Hall in the dead of night, he begs an audience with the eleventh earl, the most enigmatic nobleman in Regency England.

The visit has purpose. Kit, hungry to ruin the lord who ruined his sister, believes Rossingley is the only man who can help him.

Lando Duchamps-Avery, eleventh earl of Rossingley, doesn’t trust the sinfully handsome stranger one bit. He does not care for the tales he spins, his hot temper, or his thick, ebony curls. And, most definitely, he is not in thrall to the delicious golden hoop dangling from Kit Angel’s left ear. Lando has his own motivations to ruin the same lord, and the two men form an uneasy alliance.

As the dangerous plot they hatch unfurls, the suspicious earl and the shady scoundrel are increasingly thrown together. Whilst the wily earl gradually surrenders to his growing attraction, Kit can’t make up his mind if he wants to swive him, declare undying love for him, or throttle him.

Bit by bit, as mutual desire swells between them, Kit wins over the earl’s body, his passion, and his trust.

But in order to win the earl’s elusive heart? The scoundrel must risk losing everything

Excerpt 

CHAPTER 1

ROSSINGLEY ESTATE, SUMMER, 1821

“You have visitors, my lord.”

Inglis floated across the eleventh Earl of Rossingley’s sleepy eyeline, looking peevish. Lando swore the man had silken castors in place of feet. With white-gloved hands clasped together in front of his vexed frame, his head butler awaited his response.

“And you have chosen to disturb me about this because…” Lando tilted his balloon of brandy this way and that, playing the flickering candlelight against the delicately engraved crystal. That the evening was late was an irrelevance. He and his butler were of the same accord; visitors at any time of day were unusual, unwarranted, and unwelcome.

“A Mr Christopher Angel, my lord. And his sister, Miss Anne. The young man says it’s important.”

One of a pair, the balloon glass had been a gift from dear Charles. “I know of no one named Angel. Begging the question ‘important for whom’?”

“He didn’t make that distinction, my lord,” admitted Inglis. “But he gave the impression the matter is somewhat urgent.”

Lando took a warming sip of brandy. The drink of the damned. He didn’t especially care for it, but he fancied it lent him a louche, philosophic air. “What is urgent is seldom important, Inglis,” he deemed, pleased with his wisdom. Rousseau himself might make a similar pronouncement. “If it’s alms he’s after, toss him a half-crown, some cold meats, and send him on his way.”

The gloved hands wrung together. “I did try that, my lord. But he’s…ah…more insistent than our usual callers, and neither is he a pauper. And…” Inglis paused. Never let it be said the butler couldn’t milk a drama. “He…he mentioned one of his close relations. His uncle. One…ah…a former cavalry officer sadly no longer with us, God rest his soul.”

As Inglis made the sign of the cross, Lando took another, more contemplative sip. So many good men had fallen during the wars in France, and a chap struggled to keep up. “Oh, yes?”

Inglis cleared his throat. “Yes. A…ah…Captain Charles Prosser, my lord.”

Like rancid vinegar, the fine liquor soured on the earl’s tongue. He fought to swallow it down. Perhaps he should have stuck to port after dinner. Maybe it would have better softened the dull ache now swelling behind his rib cage. Captain Prosser. His dearest Charles, his lover. His heart.

Lando didn’t make his older lover’s acquaintance until after the wars, from which Charles returned hale and hearty. But where French bayonets and the battlefields of Trafalgar had failed, the insidious wasting disease prevailed. An annoying tickle became a cough, a cough tinged with blood. Slowly, inexorably, his lover faded away, their time together, in all of its perfection, too brief. A life only half lived; a conversation forever unfinished. Lando, not daring to be at Charles’s bedside at the end, heard the news of his passing from a mutual friend some two weeks after his lover had been buried beneath Kentish loamy earth.

Three long years ago. Yet even now, at unprepared moments such as this—and was there ever such a thing as a prepared one?—that name still had a powerful hold upon the eleventh earl. If Inglis hadn’t broken the crushing silence, it might have persisted well into the night.

“I have taken the liberty of passing the young man’s sister over to Mrs Sugden, my lord. The girl is in a state of great distress. And I have shown her brother to the small parlour. He’s…ah…not fit for the library.”

Inglis’s waspish voice sounded as if coming from an awfully long way away. “My lord might wish to be more suitably attired before receiving him?”

Tipping back his fair head, Lando forced another swallow of fiery amber liquid. For a second or two, it threatened to reappear, then he pulled himself together. Ridiculous. Three years gone and one mention of Charles turned him into a limp dishrag. Well, it was high time it didn’t. Time to make a clean breast of things. Time to stop bloody moping. Charles would have hated him squandering his salad days drinking alone and brooding in front of a dying fire.

He cast his gaze down his spare frame. Fussy Inglis might wish him more suitably attired, but Lando gave not a fig. As purportedly one of the richest men in England, Lando could host a ball clad in only his underclothes, and the ton would declare it the latest fashion in Paris. He pinned Inglis to the spot with his pale eyes.

“I’m decent. Uninvited callers find me as I am, or not at all. As you damned well know.”

About the Author  

Fearne Hill resides far from the madding crowds in the county of Dorset, deep in the British countryside. She likes it that way.

Her queer romance, Two Tribes, was a finalist in the 2023 Lambda Literary Awards.

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BLOG TOUR: “The Lake House Massacre” by Chris Bedell. Rafflecopter Giveaway Included!

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Book Title: The Lake House Massacre

Author: Chris Bedell

Publisher: Baynam Books

Cover Artist: Christy Aldridge

Release Date: January 20, 2025

Tense/POV: Third Person, Past Tense

Genres: YA LGBTQ Horror/Thriller (the main character is a bisexual male)

Themes: Forgiveness vs Revenge, Trust

Length: 30 000 words/172 pages

Heat Rating: 2 flames

It’s a standalone book.  A sequel (Mother Mania) is coming out in March.

There is a mild cliffhanger, but it wraps things up for the most part. The door is left open for the sequels. But a lot of questions get answers.

Note from author: This book isn’t a romance book. But Tate’s ex-boyfriend, Nick, is a part of the plot. I can’t say much because of spoilers. Although I want to make it clear this isn’t a romance story because I don’t want people to expect a happy ending for Tate and Nick. It’s a horror/thriller story first and foremost.

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18-year-old high school senior Tate Robinson and his friends are spending Winter Break at Tate’s family’s lake house. But there’s a serial killer on the loose.

Blurb

18-year-old Tate Robinson should focus on having a relaxing winter break with his friends. Their parents all agreed to let them spend several days at Tate’s family’s lake house without adult supervision. Instead, someone wearing a scarecrow mask stabs Tate’s friend, Elijah, on the second day of the trip. Tate narrowly escapes the killer when he flees the woods and runs back to the house, rejoining his friends. To complicate matters, everyone discovers their smartphones are missing. Therefore, they can’t call for help. Their phones were the only technology they brought because the trip was supposed to be a break from Senior Year stress.

Everyone remains at the lake house. At least temporarily. The body count starts rising after Elijah’s death, though. So, if Tate and company want to survive the trip, they must uncover who’s after them. And quickly.

Furthermore, Tate must deal with his former fling, Nick, who tagged along by showing up at the lake house uninvited. Tate and Nick were supposed to be taking a break…they wanted different things. Tate hoped to keep their relationship casual because he was afraid of getting his heart broken. Meanwhile, Nick craved a real relationship. But just because Tate and Nick could reconcile doesn’t mean they should reunite. With a killer on the loose, Tate can’t be too careful about who he trusts.

Excerpt 

Tate walked away from Nick, then grabbed his jean jacket on the rack by the door. The wind howled, stinging Tate’s face once Tate left the house. So much for Elijah claiming it wasn’t cold. Tate should’ve realized that Elijah downplayed the temperature.

Snow crunched under Tate’s sneakers while he shuffled towards the woods. Nick could make breakfast, which he all wanted, but when Tate returned to the house with Elijah, he demanded that Nick go. If redirecting Nick’s focus didn’t work, Tate would try another strategy. He wouldn’t give up until Nick left. That simple.

“Everything okay?” Tate asked after trekking deeper in the woods. He just found where Elijah was. And Tate had no idea why Elijah would be staring at a tree.

Elijah whirled his body around. “Just wanted some time to myself.”

“No problem.” Tate huffed, breath becoming visible once he exhaled. “But are you certain everything’s fine?”

“No. But it will be.”

Tate glared at Elijah.

“Don’t give me that look. Nothing’s wrong. I just have a crush.”

“Care to share?”

Tate didn’t care about seeming nosey. Being best friends meant they could discuss anything with each other. Tate might even be able to help Elijah. Having a disastrous love life didn’t mean Tate couldn’t be there for his friends. He would. Perhaps his strained dynamic with Nick might provide insight to help Elijah with his current romantic problem.  Just a thought, anyway.

“I like Sydney as more than a friend.” Elijah tucked his hands into his jacket pockets.

Tate gaped. “Wow.”

Elijah blushed. “Please don’t say anything to her.”

“I won’t.”

“I’m serious, Tate.”

While Tate understood that awkward stomach feeling better than anyone else, he didn’t need Elijah hassling him. Tate had nothing to gain from outing Elijah’s secret. Doing so wouldn’t have benefited Tate. Spilling personal secrets was also a shitty thing to do. And Tate would never stoop that low. Not ever.

Tate beamed at Elijah. “You have my word.”

“Good.”

“Do you plan on telling her how you feel?” Tate asked.

“I was hoping to be alone with her sometime during the trip. Just don’t know where even to begin.”

“I’m sure you’ll find the right words.”

“Thanks. That means a lot.”

“Don’t mention it.”

“How are things with Nick?” Elijah asked.

Tate shouldn’t have been shocked by Elijah’s question. If Elijah’s love life could be dissected, then Tate imagined his romantic life would be scrutinized, too. Only fair. Being asked a question didn’t mean Tate had to answer it. Not if he didn’t want to.

A lump lingered in Tate’s throat. “Don’t ask.”

“Okay then.”

“I wasn’t saying that to be snarky. I was being serious.”

“I’m sure everything will work itself out. If there’s one thing I’ve learned, situations usually seem worse than they are.”

“Maybe.” Tate’s teeth chattered. Perhaps visiting his family’s lake house during winter wasn’t the smartest idea.

Tate’s heart thumped louder and faster. Something stole his attention from the corner of his eye. More specifically, someone. A person wearing a scarecrow mask stood behind Elijah. But someone wearing a disguise wasn’t why Tate’s pulse hadn’t slowed down. Sunlight glinting against the metal object the stranger held was why sweat coated Tate’s brow.

Tate screamed. “Behind you, Elijah!”

Elijah spun around, back now towards Tate. The person in the scarecrow mask lunged forward, stabbing Elijah in the throat. Blood spurted from the top of Elijah’s neck before he collapsed.

A bright red color stained the snow near Elijah’s head.

Disbelief swelled inside Tate. Someone couldn’t have murdered one of his best friends—the idea was unfathomable to Tate. Yet the dread coursing through his veins remained as palpable as the desperation from Nick during their earlier argument in the kitchen.

So, Tate had two options.

Fight the person who killed Elijah. Or run.

About the Author  

Chris Bedell is the author of over twenty small press books. He also graduated with a B.A. in Creative Writing from Fairleigh Dickinson University in 2016.

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BLOG TOUR: “Stolen Dream” by Oliver Takely

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Book Title: Stolen Dream

Author: Oliver Takely

Publisher: MM Romance Press

Cover Artist: Emily’s World of Design

Release Date:  March 5, 2025

Tense/POV: Third person, dual POV

Genres: Contemporary MM Romance

Tropes: Forbidden love, first times, demisexual rep, found family

Themes: Second chance romance

Heat Rating: 4 flames

Length: 60 000 words        

It is book three of the Soho Knights Series. Books four and five are scheduled in 2025.

The book ends on a cliffhanger for the series, but not for the couple.

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In a world that tried to change them, love becomes their greatest rebellion.

Blurb 

At just eighteen, Paolo and Max meet at a conversion therapy camp. Abandoned by their families. left to endure literal hell on earth, their love is forbidden. Their secret romance grows and as they make plans to escape, they are brutally torn apart.

They both spend the next twelve years building lives in different worlds. Paolo in the vibrant heart of Soho, London, surrounded by his found family, and Max thriving as a successful criminal lawyer in the bustling streets of New York. Both of them believing they’ve lost the love of their life forever.

Max finds himself in London after defending a mobster, which leads to an offer he literally can’t refuse. Needing thinking time before his fate is sealed, he unexpectedly crosses paths with Paolo again. The spark between them reignites, yet their reunion is fraught with challenges, and even the magical backdrop of the holidays may not be enough for them to get their second chance at love. With Paolo’s sister at risk of suffering the same fate they endured, the stakes are even higher.

Stolen Dream is a tale of resilience, forbidden love, and the fight for a future that embraces who they truly are. Will they save Paolo’s sister in time, and can they find a way to be together, against all odds? Join them on this emotional journey of hope and redemption, where stolen dreams may just lead to a love worth fighting for.

Excerpt 

KC greeted Paolo with a big hug when he arrived. She was such a wonderful woman, who had been through more than all his brothers put together. The bravery it took for her to transition in the nineties had Paolo in awe of her.

            “What are you doing here on a Saturday?”

            “I’m meeting an . . . an old friend.”

            “Old boyfriend?” She smiled.

            Paolo felt his face heating. She leant forward and whispered to him.

            “Well, if it’s the guy who just walked in who looks like he wants to eat you, then I think I’ve got my answer.”

            Paolo spun around and there was Max. He hadn’t gotten a proper look last night with the shock. Max had always had a broad build, but now he was built like a rugby player, with wide shoulders and a tapered waist. His hazel eyes were as captivating as they had been twelve years ago. Max smiled at him, showing those perfect dimples in his pinchable cheeks. He was clean-shaven, unlike Paolo who’d had a short beard for the last five years. His face was too babyish when he was clean-shaven.

            “Can I give you a hug?” asked Max.

            Paolo was too choked up, so he just nodded, and Max wrapped his big, muscular arms around him. They were the same height, but even though Paolo had packed on the muscle over the last few years, Max almost smothered him – albeit in a good way. He was wearing a citrusy aftershave, and he could happily stay like this in Max’s arms forever.

            When the hug was bordering on being far too long for a public setting, they pulled apart and both smiled. Paolo gestured to a nearby table he’d claimed when he arrived. He made eye contact with KC, who gave him a warm smile and touched her heart. Paolo rolled his eyes, but he was smiling.

            “Thank you for seeing me,” said Max.

            Was he nervous? This wasn’t how he remembered him. Max had been the strong one when they’d been in the camp. It wasn’t just Paolo who looked up to him; it was everyone. Paolo wasn’t sure what to say. He felt tongue tied, so he grabbed a menu, passing one to Max. He knew the menu by heart, but Max didn’t need to know that.

            “Did you want to get something to eat?” asked Paolo. That was a safe conversation starter.

            “I am always hungry.”

            He smiled, and then a dark shadow appeared in his eyes. It was clear a memory had hit him. One they shared. Paolo needed to get things back on track. Today was not a day to go down memory lane.

            “Everything’s amazing here. KC is the best cook in the world.”

            “That’s a bold claim. I’ll have to let Mason know.”

            “Mason?”

            “He’s a Michelin starred chef in New York.”

            “How do you know him?”

            Max took hold of Paolo’s hand. It felt strange, yet familiar.

            “Mason’s just a friend. I’m not with anyone.”

            “That’s not . . . I didn’t mean . . .” Ugh, why couldn’t he get his words out?

            Perhaps sensing his struggle, Max suggested they order. He let go of Paolo’s hand and Paolo missed the touch instantly. How could this be happening? He’d not had butterflies or any of these feelings for twelve years.

About the Author  

Oliver Takely is a passionate MM romance author who revels in dark, edgy stories featuring complex, flawed characters. With years of writing experience and a creative day job, Oliver Takely is also an avid reader of MM romance, consuming 300 books in both 2023 and 2024. His favourite trope is enemies to lovers, but is also a sucker for a feel-good Christmas romance.

Originally from the north, Oliver now resides in the south of England with his husband and their beloved fur baby, who is treated like a princess, living their own happily-ever-after straight out of a romance novel. When not writing or reading, he enjoys holidays and indulging in lots of good food, because who doesn’t love a delicious combination?

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BLOG TOUR: “Bud” by Russell J. Sanders

BLOG TOUR

Book Title: Bud

Author: Russell J. Sanders

Publisher: JMS Books

Cover Artist: Written Ink Designs

Release Date: December 1, 2024

Pairing: Transgender MF love story

Tense/POV: First person/past tense 

Genres: Contemporary interracial new adult romance

Tropes: Transgender love story

Themes: Transgender sexual awakening, acceptance of self and others

Heat Rating: No sexual content

Length: 65 000 words/336 pages 

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

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Is young dancer Shelly Sheridan transgender? What does that mean?  

Will Shelly’s new guardian, the uncle Shelly’s never met, understand? What’s next in Shelly’s life?

Blurb

Suddenly homeless, young dancer Shelly Sheridan, heartbroken at Christmas, is taken in by an uncle Shelly has never met and didn’t know existed. The burly ex-Marine uncle and his husband welcome Shelly with a shower of love and acceptance. Their friend Estrella, a retired ballet star, is enraptured by Shelly’s dancing.

Shelly makes a new friend the first day of school in this strange place but isn’t happy, feeling out of place and very different from the other boys. The new friend eventually suggests something Shelly didn’t even know was possible. Could Shelly be transgender?

When Shelly embraces this new idea, problems immediately arise. His former nanny doesn’t approve, and the trustee of his mother’s estate fights Shelly’s newly formed decisions.

With his new family’s unconditional love, Shelly hopes all will be well. It’s Christmas once again, and it will be a merry one if Shelly’s problems go away, and Christmas works its magic.

Excerpt

We barely got through the front door before Greta scooped me into her arms. 

I finally pulled away so I could look Greta in the eyes. I was gonna tell her to back off. I’d had enough of whatever she was doing — loving, laughing, crying, whatever. I had to get upstairs to text Mimi. I was gonna give her an earful for ruining our special time. But I saw the deepest heartache in Greta’s eyes, deeper than I’ve ever seen in anyone’s.

“I’m so sorry, Liebchen. She loved you so much. You were her treasure.” And then she thrust something into my hand. “Keep this. Keep it safe. She would want you to have it.”

I opened my fingers, and there was the ballerina necklace. Why are you giving me my mother’s necklace? And what is all this you’re saying?

And then I heard the booming voice. Unmistakable. My mother’s lawyer. Mr. Stern. Standing in the arch leading to our living room. Commanding the world in his dark gray three-piece suit. He musta had a closet full of those suits. He never dressed any other way.

Why is he here?

Looking over half-glasses, he ordered, “Come here, son.”

I’m not your son.

He held out his hand, his fingers gesturing I should follow him. His face was stern, like his name, not a trace of a smile. Greta gave me a nudge in his direction. I followed him into the living room. He pointed toward the sofa. “Sit.”

Greta, right behind me, lowered me onto the soft sofa cushion. She sat next to me, closely — like she was protecting me. Shawn too, who I had forgotten was even there, followed and sat in the chair facing us. Mr. Stern towered in his dark suit, his grim face hovering. That face didn’t bother me. He always looked like that. Angry.

“Sheldon, I have some news for you,” he said. “I don’t know how to say this, but I’ve always felt bad news is like a Band-Aid. Yank it off, and it doesn’t hurt as much. So I’m just going to say it.” He paused — a long time.

What is all this yank it off stuff, if he isn’t going to tell me? It can’t be as bad as he makes out. My mother probably is going to be gone longer than the two days Greta said she’d promised.

“Son, your mother’s car slid out of control tonight. She was going up the mountain, the road must have been more slippery than she planned for — who knows? — and she lost control.”

What? I yelped. “What hospital is she in? Take me there. Now.” The anger I wanted to text her was gone, replaced by worry.

Mr. Stern held his hands up, palms out. He patted the air like he was motioning for me to sit, although I hadn’t gotten up, and he was not even close enough to touch me. Greta put her arm around me. Even Shawn, I noticed, looked sad.

“Boy, I’m sorry. Your mother’s dead.”

Uh-uh. Not possible. Mimi’s in Park City. She’s at a client meeting.

“You hear me, son? Amelia died tonight.”

“No,” I lunged at him. “You’re crazy. My mother’s with her client. She made Shawn take me to the ballet. Very important meeting.” I beat his body with both fists until I suddenly stopped. I stood a moment. “Somebody’s told you a lie, Mr. Stern.”

Mr. Stern was playing a joke or he’d been given bad intel, as they say, or something, at least, was wrong, very wrong. My mother was not dead.

“Sheldon,” he said, “you’ve got to face it.” As he pushed me back to the sofa, he said, “Your mother, Amelia Sheridan, is gone.”

Greta leaned over and talked in my ear. “It’s true, Liebchen. I wish it weren’t, but it is.”

Greta would never play a trick on me like that. If she said it was true, it was.

I screamed. A blood-curdling wail. A scream that coulda woke the dead. Neighbors miles around musta heard it.

When I stopped, I stopped. I wasn’t wasting another tear because it wouldn’t bring my Mimi back. I remember thinking, “Lord –” I didn’t even believe in God “– please put my life back together. I’ll go to church. I’ll be the best little Mormon boy I can be. Just bring Mimi back to me.”

But God wasn’t listening.

About the Author  

A life spent in Texas led to a relocation adventure, and native Texas author Russell J. Sanders now resides in Las

Vegas, Nevada. He and his husband were compelled to set out for parts unknown, and that led them to Vegas, where they are supremely happy. But they don’t stay put. They’ve traveled the world, journeying to England, France, Italy, Japan, India, Bali, Jakarta, Toronto, Quebec City, Nova Scotia, Vancouver, Alaska, and Hawaii. And his novels are infused with locations as near as Ft. Worth, Chicago, Houston, and Las Vegas and as far away as Halifax. Who knows where he will lead readers next?

But one thing is known, there will be Mexican food. Russell’s on a quest to check out the Mexican cuisine in places both near and far. The not-so-good he has tried was in Wyoming; Jakarta, Indonesia, though, has some pretty decent enchiladas. The quest is to try, not to always be satisfied at what is found. So this Mexican food loving teacher, actor, director, singer, chef, and author loves adventure. And mostly, Russell’s goal is to tell the world, through his writing, that we are all put on this earth to love one

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Continue ReadingBLOG TOUR: “Bud” by Russell J. Sanders