Contemporary MM Romance

Buy direct to get the bonus scene included

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Blurb

Eli worked his butt off to earn a spot with the Vermont Trailblazers, and he has absolutely no intention of losing it. Unfortunately, his second NHL season has brought a sophomore slump, an endless parade of team obligations, and the possibility that enthusiasm might not be enough to keep his plates spinning—or keep him from being sent to the minors. So naturally, this is the perfect time for Nolan Madolora—his coach’s son, his sister’s ex, and the man Eli had an impossible crush on a decade ago—to walk back into his life.

Nolan knows a thing or two about not fitting in, which makes getting paid to figure out why the Trailblazers work so well together almost funny—he’s in Vermont to conduct a team culture audit and deliver an objective assessment. What he shouldn’t do is get involved with one of the players, especially when that man is Eli Parker: his ex’s little brother, ten years his junior, and all grown up in ways Nolan is trying very hard not to notice.

When Nolan and Eli stumble across an old set of unsent letters at the arena, amateur sleuthing gives them an excuse to spend more time together—and makes ignoring their growing attraction increasingly impossible to resist. Eli’s old crush has a chance of becoming something very real, while Nolan’s carefully maintained objectivity doesn’t stand a chance against the one person he never thought to look at twice. The closer they get—to the truth and to each other—the harder it becomes to remember all the reasons getting involved is a terrible idea.

99c/99p SALE

Book one in the series, The Best Parts of Him (Vermont Trailblazers 1),

is on sale for $0.99/£0.99 until October 13.

Buy Link for Book 1

Excerpt from From A to Us

“Okay, wait. Wait-wait-wait-wait.” An hour and a half later, Nolan sat back in his seat and waved his hands, cutting Eli off. “You’re saying that if you had the option to know how you die, you wouldn’t take it?”

Eli’s grin was a little tipsy. Nolan had lost track of the number of beers Eli had consumed to Nolan’s one, but as Eli went to rest an elbow on the table and missed it entirely, Nolan mentally revised tipsy to most of the way drunk.

“Noooooo way,” Eli said, red-cheeked from too much booze but not slurring his words. So there was that. “If I knew how I died, I’d be constantly thinking about the future, just waiting for that day to come instead of living in the moment, and that would suck the joy right out of life. Would you want to know?”

“Yeah. I think so. That way I could avoid the thing that eventually kills me and maybe prolong my life a little longer. Do the things I want to do, accomplish what I want to accomplish, say the things I need to say.”

“But what if the thing that kills you is cancer or some other disease? Can’t avoid that.”

“Maybe not, but I can get screened earlier than I might’ve otherwise and try to catch it early. You really wouldn’t want to know?”

“Absolutely not,” Eli said. “Because what if I die, like, choking on a bagel or something? Then breakfast becomes a high-stakes event for the rest of my life.”

“You could cut the bagel into small pieces,” Nolan offered.

“And engineer my carbs around fate?”

“You could just not eat bagels.”

Eli gasped so hard that Nolan thought he’d choke on his own spit. “Rude, Nolan. Don’t get between a hockey player and his carbs.”

Nolan laughed. “Duly noted.”

“Hey, guys.” Their server appeared between them and placed the bill on the table. “We’re closing in a few minutes, so you can settle up at the bar.”

Nolan checked his watch. Almost midnight. Damn, they’d shut the place down. He hadn’t done that since his university days.

“You can pay.” Eli slid the bill Nolan’s way. “Since you invited me.”

“Sure,” Nolan said, laughing as he stood. “Be right back.”

He’d invited Eli out tonight because Eli was the only person he knew in Burlington aside from his dad. He was friendly with a few of the Trailblazers—had even attended a Trailblazers event or two in the four seasons Dad had been head coach—but he didn’t know them enough to call them up to hang out.

Eli, though? Nolan didn’t know him well enough either, but he had been a familiar face from his past. Nolan hadn’t expected to enjoy getting to know him as someone other than Michelle’s little brother as much as he had. Hadn’t expected to have this much fun or to wish the night would last longer. Hadn’t expected an Eli who was both funny and smart and wiser than Nolan would’ve given him credit for.

About the Author

Amy’s lived with her head in the clouds since she first picked up a book as a child, and being fluent in two languages means she’s read a lot of books! She first picked up a pen on a rainy day in fourth grade when her class had to stay inside for recess. Tales of treasure hunts with her classmates eventually morphed into love stories between men, and she’s been writing ever since. She writes evenings and weekends—or whenever she isn’t at her full-time day job saving the planet at Canada’s largest environmental non-profit.

An unapologetic introvert, Amy reads too much and socializes too little, with no regrets. She loves connecting with readers. Join her Facebook Group to stay up-to-date on upcoming releases and for access to early teasers, find her on Instagram, or sign up for her infrequent newsletter.

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NEW RELEASE: “Wonder Boy: Owned”

Post author:Eric Huffbind
Post published:September 19, 2026
Post category:Gay Book Promotions Kindle Unlimited
Post comments:0 Comments

NEW RELEASE

Book Title: Wonder Boy: Owned

Author: Calan Mercer

Publisher: Valleyburn Press

Cover Artist: Neslihan Yardimli for BookCoverZone

Release Date: September 15, 2026

Tense/POV: third person, past tense, three alternating POV

Genres: Contemporary MM Dark/Erotic Romance, BDSM

Tropes: Forbidden love, workplace, boss/employee, age gap, power exchange, possessive mmc, insta-obsession (touch him and die), psychological, hurt/comfort, aftercare heavy

Themes: Identity, Belonging, Complicity, Power as intimacy, Self-destruction, Legacy and ownership, Survival

Length: approx. 129 000 words

It is book one in a trilogy. It ends as an HFN where it is clear there is more to resolve.

Heat Rating: 5 flames

Buy Links – Available in Kindle Unlimited

He came for the job. He left owned.

Blurb

Alex Mercer was supposed to be untouchable: the golden heir to his family’s powerful law firm in Los Angeles, two years of associate experience under his belt, dispatched to Las Vegas to bring the chaotic Global Combat League to heel.

Instead, he met Jack Doyle.

Compact. Battle-hardened. Close-cropped dark hair just beginning to gray. The cold, calculating stare of a man who built an empire from nothing and never learned how to lose. One command from across the desk and Alex’s perfectly tailored world began to unravel — jacket, tie, shirt — every step an exit offered and refused, every refusal a choice Alex made with open eyes.

What started as an interview ended with Alex stripped bare on Jack’s desk, claimed so thoroughly he could still feel it weeks later. What started as a contract became something neither of them had a name for. And what started in Las Vegas wasn’t going to stay there.

Some men break you. Jack owned him. And the worst part? Alex let him.

A dark MM romance about power, possession, and the cost of being chosen by a man who doesn’t share what he claims.

Excerpt

“Kid,” Jack said. “You any good at not fucking up?”

Alex registered the question for what it was, not the interview he had prepared for, but the one underneath it, the one that wanted to know whether he was going to give a law school answer or an honest one. He had prepared the law school answer on the flight. He looked at Jack and set it aside.

“Depends on the definition,” Alex said. Then he looked at Jack and reconsidered. “Yes, sir.”

Jack’s mouth curved into something that wasn’t quite a smile. “Sir. I like that. Most of these Ivy League pricks walk in here calling me Jack like we’re old pals.” He held the look. “What does ‘yes’ mean to you?”

“It means you tell me what’s coming before it arrives, I keep it from becoming a problem. You call me after it’s already a problem, I make it go away.” He held Jack’s eyes. “Either way works. I’d rather the first.”

Jack regarded him for a moment. Then he set down what he was reading and leaned back.

“Marco says you’re good,” he said. “That means something, coming from him. I know your father. I know his firm. They’ve been handling my contracts for three years.” He picked up his mug and took a drink. “If you’re even half the lawyer Richard is, you’re worth the conversation.”

“I’m not my father,” Alex said. There was no edge to it. He was stating a fact. “But I can do the job.”

Jack looked at him with the full quality of attention he would come to understand was Jack’s primary mode: complete, unhurried, costing the subject of it nothing and requiring everything. “Just like that?”

“Just like that,” Alex said.

Jack almost smiled. He set the mug down and leaned forward, elbows on the desk.

“Alexander Mercer. Thirty. Top of your class at USC Law. You know why you’re here?”

“My father said you needed a personal attorney. Available at all hours. Fighter issues, sponsorship conflicts, anything that doesn’t go through the league office.”

“That’s the version that goes on paper.” Jack tapped the desk once with two fingers. “Off paper it’s simpler. You work for me. The league, the fighters, your old man — none of them own you. I do. I snap my fingers at three in the morning because some idiot heavyweight punched a casino bouncer, you’re already in a car. I need an NDA before breakfast because one of my champions knocked up a ring-girl, you’re already writing it. You breathe when I say breathe. You eat when I say eat. You exist for the GCL. The GCL is me. I need someone I can trust completely to have my back. Not the league’s back. Mine.” He let that land. “You want this job, Mercer?”

Alex had known, somewhere on the flight over, that he wanted it. Not only the money, though the money was real. It was the room he was sitting in. The building below, with its blood smell and its training cages. The man across the desk, who had not yet said a single thing that was anything other than exactly what he meant. Alex had spent two years in an environment that prided itself on precision and had not yet been in a room where precision was this unconcerned with its own appearance.

“Yes, sir,” he said. “I want the job.”

Jack’s eyes narrowed, dark and unreadable. He let the words hang in the air for a long ten seconds, the air conditioner droning in the background. Then he smiled, slow and predatory, a smile that had closed million-dollar deals and ended careers in the same breath.

“Good,” Jack said. “Then you’re going to prove it.”

The shift in the room was immediate, like the temperature had dropped ten degrees. Alex’s mouth went dry. He’d expected a hard interview. Maybe some locker-room hazing. Not… this. Whatever this was.

Jack stood up. He came around the desk, without announcement, without the excess of motion that would have signaled awareness of being watched. He stopped three feet away and crossed his arms and looked at Alex the way he had been looking at him since Alex walked in, which was completely and without apology.

“Take off your jacket.”

Alex blinked. Once. His heart slammed against his ribs like it wanted out. Not standard. A line. A test. The kind powerful men drew in the sand to see who’d cross it and who’d run.

Jack’s voice stayed even, almost conversational, but there was steel underneath. “You heard me. Jacket. Off. Or you can stand up right now, walk out that door, tell your Daddy I’m a crazy prick, and we’ll both pretend this meeting never happened. Your call, kid. Last chance to keep your suit clean and your dignity intact.”

About the Author

Calan Mercer writes dark, character-driven romance about powerful men and the things they can’t control. A nine-year Army veteran with deployments to Iraq and Kosovo, he earned his MFA in creative writing from San Diego State University and has spent years ringside, drawn to the brutal intimacy of combat sports and the speed of the ice.

Wonder Boy: Owned is his debut and the first book in the Global Combat League series. He lives in San Diego with his husband and four very opinionated cats.

Author Links

Website | Facebook | Newsletter Sign-up

Twitter/Pinterest/TikTok @calanmercer

Instagram/Threads: @calanmercerwrites

Hilarina and the Ogre | The Ogre Comes Home

NEW RELEASE & UPCOMING EPILOUGE: Hilarina and The Ogre A & The Ogre Comes Home by October Arden

Post author:Eric Huffbind
Post published:September 15, 2026
Post category:Gay Book Promotions Kindle Unlimited New Release
Post comments:0 Comments

NEW RELEASE and UPCOMING EPILOGUE

Book Title: Hilarina and the Ogre (and an extended epilogue, The Ogre Comes Home)

Author and Publisher: October Arden

Cover Artist: Dhananjaya

Release Dates: September 15, 2026 (The Ogre Comes Home: October 13)

Tense/POV: Close third, past tense, alternating POV

Genres: MM Contemporary Romance with dark elements

For Hilarina and the Ogre: Friends to lovers, found family, ace/demi spectrum romance, protector hero, first love, bullying, size difference, hurt/comfort, dark themes with a hopeful core.

For The Ogre Comes Home: Reunion romance, hurt/comfort, amnesia, recovery from trauma, meeting the parents (again), marriage proposal, domestic intimacy

Heat Rating: 2 flames

Length: 81 000 words (17 000 words for the epilogue)

It is a main story, plus an epilogue with no cliffhanger.

Goodreads

Buy Links – Available in Kindle Unlimited

Hilarina and the Ogre | The Ogre Comes Home

A ballerina, an ogre, and a love that refuses to stay forgotten.

Blurb

Hilary Davis knows how to disappear.
After years of being mocked as “Hilarina Ballerina,” he’s perfected the act. He has a popular girlfriend he can’t stand, friends he doesn’t trust, and a strict rule never to dance where anyone can see. It’s a brittle kind of safety, but it’s all he has.
Then he meets Trenton Wells.
Massive, solemn, and the school’s most devoted outcast, Trenton doesn’t play by anyone’s rules. He reads through every class, speaks with unnerving calm, and sees straight through every mask Hilary wears including the ones Hilary himself doesn’t know he’s wearing.
What starts as a simple trade (calculus tutoring for ballet lessons) becomes something neither of them can walk away from. Choosing Trenton means losing every shield Hilary built to survive. But as the town’s cruelty sharpens from slurs to violence, Trenton is willing to become any kind of monster to keep Hilary safe, and Hilary will tear his own world apart to stay at his ogre’s side.
What they don’t know yet is that some devotions outlast memory itself and some damage can only be undone by the people brave enough to keep choosing each other.

Spanning youth and adult trauma, Hilarina and the Ogre is a dark, fiercely tender queer romance exploring the scars of first love, the fragile hope of second chances, and the unyielding weight of an absolute love.

The Epilogue

Trenton Wells remembers everything now.
The family that loves him. The years of forgetting. And the man who followed him across state lines, through seven separate lifetimes, without once giving up (even when it nearly destroyed him.)
So coming home should be the easy part, but Trenton can’t stop tallying the cost. The fifteen years of life Hilary spent chasing him. A body that still flinches at the wrong touch. And an arm that aches when it rains, a permanent reminder of the night that shattered them both.
Hilary doesn’t want his guilt, he wants his ogre whole, present, and done apologizing for the things that were never his fault.
The Ogre Comes Home is the story about what happens after the rescue, and the fumbling, fierce, and sometimes ridiculous work of re-building a life with the only person who matters.

Excerpt

The next day was worse. They were smart enough to take their bags with them when they went to lunch, but when they returned to the classroom, there was semen on their desks and smeared into their textbooks. Hilary probably would have recognized it for what it was regardless, but the empty condom wrappers helped. It brought the fear back, and not lightly. He couldn t afford to replace his textbooks.

When he went to Varda, he struggled to keep his voice even. Knock it off.

She turned those pretty eyes up at him. Knock what off?

Do you know how expensive textbooks are?

I can think of one way for you to get money.

He might have taken her up on it. It wasn t just his own books that had been ruined, after all. But Trenton took him by the wrist and dragged him away. Don t talk to her.

She s responsible for this. If I accept her offer

And for the rest of the year have her around while I m with you? Don t. I ll buy the books.

Hilary had to ask. And it wasn t because of the condoms or the spray paint. Do you But he had no idea how to make the words come out. How did you form words like that? And say them out loud?

But Trenton knew what he was asking. So to be in your life I have to want to fuck you? Is that it?

The boy didn t shout the words. His voice was even as always. But he was angry, and it frightened a weenie like Hilary to hear it. Even knowing the anger wasn t directed his way, and that Trenton was the only person in school who cared about him, it was frightening. It s just that you re nice. You re too nice to me. And the things you say. No one else says things like that.

Yes, they do.

In books, but not

I m not going to be an asshole just to fit your notion of friendship. I finally found you. You don t know how long I ve been waiting to find you.

That was just more evidence against the boy. Trenton could have grabbed him by the face and shoved his tongue down his throat, and it wouldn t have been more shocking to Hilary than those words were. But Trenton still wasn t done.

People like me we don t get chosen. We live our quiet lives just trying not to take up space, hoping to get through each day so we can disappear into a book by the end of it. But you chose me. When you came to talk to me, and when you asked for help with the math. You didn t mean for it to become anything. But what else could I do? I had to try. With you because it was you I had no choice but to try.

Hilary s eyes were prickling. It was the words, yes. Words he d never heard in his life. But also the tone. Trenton was still calm, or trying to be, but it was like he d spent the whole morning reading aloud; his voice was hoarse with it.

Hilary was forced to look down, unable to meet that earnest expression head-on. I m ordinary. I m so ordinary, Trent. I m not even smart, why would you

Trenton hugged him, though it was more accurate to say he grabbed him, those arms like a vise. I wanted this, the boy said, meaning the embrace, I wanted to do this since the night of the party.

That was impossible to believe. While we were sorting through the garbage?

When you offered the trade. To teach me while I taught you.

So even earlier, then.

But that was selfish, Hilary objected. I needed you more than you needed me.

I ll always need you. Trenton s face was in his shoulder, a little muffled, but not enough to obscure the words.

It left Hilary helpless, his hands raised, hovering there at the boy s back. This isn t normal. What you re saying whatever s happening

And you want to be normal, do you? Because you were enjoying it so much. Your girlfriend and your fake friends.

It came again that urge to hit Trenton. No, not hit him. Hilary wasn t sure what it was, but it made his hands clench, and finally, finally, he was able to grab hold, his fingers crushing Trenton s shirt in his hands. I m not worth it. You re going to see. You re going to be so embarrassed when you wake up and realize.

Then let me be embarrassed, Trenton said. I promise you ll be waiting longer than I will.

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

Author Links

Blog/Website | Facebook | Instagram

Newsletter Sign-up | Bluesky

RECENT RELEASE: “Feral Hearts” by AJ Church

Post author:Eric Huffbind
Post published:July 29, 2026
Post category:Gay Book Promotions Kindle Unlimited New Release
Post comments:0 Comments

RECENT RELEASE

Book Title: Feral Hearts

Author: A.J. Church

Publisher: Nytshadow Publishing

Cover Artist: Gigi at G-Cat Designs

Release Date: July 17, 2026

Tense/POV: First person, dual POV

Genres: Contemporary MM Romance

Tropes: Enemies to lovers, slow burn, hurt/comfort, mutual obsession

Themes: Bisexual awakening, mental health

Length: 129,000 words/565 pages

It is the first book in a standalone series and does not end on a cliffhanger.

Heat Rating: 4 flames

Buy Links – Available in Kindle Unlimited

There’s nothing closer to love than a good hatred.

Blurb

Aubie

I was born with a silver spoon in my mouth, but I’ve never let that stand in the way of my two favorite past times–breaking hearts and disappointing my family. An ardent fan of the smooth line and shallow hookup, I excel at keeping things gliding on the surface. Feelings, when I have them, are reserved for the few I call friends. Until the night I walk into Club Eros and come face to face with Cutter Knight. Tall, dark, and mouthwateringly handsome, he’s also an uptight prick. Doesn’t stop me from wanting to toss all my rules out the window for just one taste.

Cutter

Once upon a time I was the golden boy of my family. Future planned out. Ducks all in a row. Then my idiot brother threw my world into a tailspin. Now I go out of my way to avoid his type, which is why I hate Aubie Gauthier. He’s a spoiled brat with an old money trust fund and a reputation for being a shameless slut. And for some reason he’s set his sights on me. I’m not gay, and even if I was, I wouldn’t be interested in someone like Aubie. Unfortunately, that doesn’t seem to matter to him.

Excerpt from Chapter 1

“FIRST TIME?”

I glance up at the tall hunk standing next to me and shake my head.

“Don’t be nervous,” he says with a smile. “You’ll do fine.”

“Oh, I’m not nervous.” More like excited.

I’ve spent two days working on my routine. The biggest part of that was selecting my outfit. I chose a charcoal gray velvet jacket, sheer black shirt, slinky black silk pants and dance slippers. I kept my makeup to just some eyeliner and a little shadow. I’m going for a debaucherous lord of the manor aesthetic. I picked out my music–Parked Outside by the Afghan Whigs–and threw it on a thumbdrive for the DJ, then loaded everything in a suit bag.

I stand when the stage manager calls my name and head through the short hallway to the front of the house. From the moment I stroll onto the stage and my music starts to play, I know I’m home. The mechanics of taking off my clothes are secondary to having all those eyes watching me undress, knowing that I’ll soon be naked in front of them. I nearly come before the first article of clothing hits the floor.

After dancing provocatively for half a minute, I unbutton the jacket and flash my chest under the sheer black shirt while sliding the fingers of one hand into my mouth and sucking each one dry. When I’ve got their attention, I start to lose clothing. Jacket first. One shoulder at a time. Once it’s gone, I run my fingers down the front of the shirt, unbuttoning as I go. I dance like that for a chorus with my best bedroom eyes, daring the audience to look away.

You don’t want to miss this.

My hand slides down inside my waistband, making a show of cupping my stiffening cock before pulling on the drawstring to untie my pants. I bite my lip and offer a naughty grin as I let go of the string. The silky fabric slides down my legs to pool at my feet.

I step out of them and strut over to the pole, arching my back and tangling my hands above my head as I start to writhe my back against it. The shirt slides off my shoulders and I let it drop to the floor, leaving me in nothing but the sheer thong. The flimsy garment barely contains my straining cock.

I caress myself while I dance, lost in the music.

Lost in the moment.

The sexual tension in the room is exquisite. Like a bow string being pulled taut. The music vibrates against me and I grind my hips to its beat, letting my mouth drop open to rim my lips with a teasing tongue. Come taste me, my eyes say.

I can feel it. They’re hungry for me.

For me.

Let’s give them what they want. I slide my hands down my chest to fondle my nipples, causing my cock to noticeably twitch. At this rate I’ll be making a mess on this stage. I move my hands down to my hips then turn away and rotate my hips, humping the air. Wishing I had a warm body to fuck right now. I can at least make them think I do.

I slide my fingers under the thin straps of the thong and bend over to slowly roll it down my legs, baring my hole. I look over my shoulder to get their response.

Now this is addictive. All those eyes, all this bare flesh. How could they possibly not want me?

I turn to face my admirers, finally free to prowl the stage completely naked.

And prowl I do, vacillating between bold, come hither looks and coy smiles with just enough of my inner slut to make my moves seductively feline. I know I hit the sweet spot when people start squirming in their seats. One man in the front row yells, “Oh honey, let me help you with that,” when I slide my finger over the head of my cock and bring it to my nose. I take a deep whiff before plunging the finger between my lips and moaning.

Damn, I’m turning myself on.

About the Author

Growing up a military brat meant I was always the new kid in school, so my friends were often the characters I found in the books I read and later wrote. I love dreaming up bad boys and the trouble they can get into, and lucky for them, I’m a sucker for a well-earned happily ever after. Or at least a happily for now.

Social Media Links

Blog/Website | Facebook | Bluesky

NEW RELEASE: “The Dark Before Dawn” by Thom Collins

Post author:Eric Huffbind
Post published:July 10, 2026
Post category:Gay Book Promotions New Release
Post comments:0 Comments

NEW RELEASE

Book Title: The Dark Before Dawn

Author: Thom Collins

Publisher: Entwined Publishing

Cover Artist: Kelly Martin

Release Date: July 7, 2026

Tense/POV: Third person

Genres: Contemporary MM Romance, Mystery/suspense/thriller

Tropes: Friends to lovers, cop, stalker

Length: 68 500 words

Heat Rating: 4 flames

It is a standalone story that is part of a wider series

(book four in the Basic Instincts series)

and does not end on a cliffhanger.

Universal Link | First For Romance

Buy Links

A brutal killer. An unwitting witness. A cop caught in the middle of a deadly pursuit.

Blurb

A brutal killer. An unwitting witness. A cop caught in the middle of a deadly pursuit.

Jude Kalvert is glad to be back in his home city and playing gigs around his favourite bars. Blyham is a dangerous place, and things seem only to have got worse in the time he’s been away. It’s not safe to be out alone at night, but when Jude runs into an old school friend after one of his shows, things don’t appear so bad after all.

Danyal Nadir has changed a lot since they knew each other. He’s a cop for one thing, newly appointed to act as liaison between the police and the LGBTQ+ community. And he’s come a long way from the shy, bullied kid Jude remembers from school. The adult Danyal is strong, confident and very attractive. Both men jump at the chance to get reacquainted.

But that first night is not as safe as it appears. Jude discovers that he’s one of the last people to have seen a murder victim alive. Soon the killer has Jude and Danyal in his sights. On the run and desperate, there’s no limit to what he’ll do. As their friendship turns to passion, their new beginning could be the end of them.

Reader advisory: This book contains scenes of violence, gore and murder, as well as homophobia and racial slurs.

Excerpt

The police officer was incredibly good looking. He appeared mixed race, maybe of South Asian heritage with a strong, stubbled jaw and cleft chin. The body beneath the dark uniform was finely shaped. He could almost be a stripper in a cop costume rather than the real thing.

But Jude knew better than to be distracted by a hot guy and maintained his guard.

The cops’ eyes narrowed as he came nearer.

“Jude?” he asked. “Jude Kalvert?” His accent was a blend of light Scottish with a strong inflection of North East England. “Jude Kalvert? It is you, right?”

There was something familiar that Jude couldn’t quite place. Maybe they had met on a cruise sometime. He saw hundreds of new faces each week, and it wasn’t always easy to remember them.

“Yes,” he said. The man seemed friendly enough, but he was still wary of the uniform.

The serious cop face was transformed by a beautiful smile. “I thought I recognised you. It’s Danyal Nadir. I don’t know if you remember me. We were at school together.”

Jude had hated school. As the only openly gay kid in his year, the school years had been a misery of bullying, slurs and abuse. He hadn’t kept in touch with a single pupil from those days. Whenever anyone reached out to him on social media, he rejected the friend request. Twelve years since he last sat in a classroom, the trauma was still too raw.

Danyal Nadir. That name did ring a bell though.

He dug into his memory. Yes. A skinny kid who had transferred into his class when he had been around ten years old. They had never been friends but had bonded in a strange way because they were tormented by many of the same bullies. Jude for his odd looks, interest in theatre and later for his open sexuality. Danyal, for his mixed heritage- his mother was white-Scottish and his father Indian- and what was considered a strange accent.

Jesus, that school was a fucking cesspit. He prickled at the memory.

“Oh my God,” Jude said. He had to work hard to see anything of that timid kid in this strapping policeman. And yet it was there. In his eyes. And in the rare time he’d seen Danyal smile at school – the smile was the same. “You’ve changed so much.”

And you’re gorgeous.

A shy chuckle and Danyal’s eyes looked Jude over too, taking him all in. “So have you, but somehow I recognised you. When I saw you get out of the car, I was almost certain it was you.”

Jude felt a warmth spread over his face. Danyal was making him nervous. Not in the intimidating cop way he’d initially expected, but in the hot and bothered want-to-get-into-his-pants way. But no chance. This was Danyal Nadir. The wee kid from Blyham High.

“I didn’t know you became a police officer.” Stupid comment. There was no reason he would. They hadn’t seen each other in years.

“It’s been a decade now. How about you? What are you up to?”

“I’m a singer. Just finished a gig tonight. I’m about to get some food before heading home.” Old acquaintance or not, he was not about to admit to his plan of visiting The Viaduct.

Danyal checked his watch. “Mind if I join you for ten minutes? I’m due a break and I’m parched.”

It was Jude’s turn to smile widely. “I’d love it. I’m just heading around the corner.”

About the Author

Thom Collins is the author of the Jagged Shores series and the Anthem Trilogy as well as numerous standalone novels and novellas.

His latest series Basic Instincts launched in spring 2025 with the novel Now Comes the Dark.

Thom has lived in the North East of England his whole life. He grew up in Northumberland and now lives in County Durham with his husband and two cats. He loves all kinds of genre fiction, especially bonk-busters, thrillers, romance and horror. He is also a cookery book addict with far too many titles cluttering his shelves. When not writing he can be found in the kitchen trying out new recipes. He’s a keen traveler but with a fear of flying that gets worse with age, but in 2013 he realized cruising is the best way to see the world.

Check out his website for news updates and a free ebook The Night.

Social Media Links

Website | Linktree | Facebook

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SERIES TOUR & NEW RELEASE

Post author:Eric Huffbind
Post published:June 11, 2026
Post category:Gay Book Promotions New Release Series Tour
Post comments:0 Comments

SERIES TOUR with NEW RELEASE

Digging Up Bones Series

Author: TA Moore

Publisher: Rogue Firebird Press

Cover Artist: Tammy Moore

Book 1: Bone to Pick

Book 2: Skin and Bone

Book 3: Down to the Bone – Releases June 22, 2026

Book 4: SWIPE (a standalone story)

Deputy Cloister Witte has a dark past and a cute dog. He’s happy to talk about the dog.

Genres: Contemporary MM Romantic Suspense/Police Procedural

Tropes: Enemies to lovers, workplace romance, black cat/golden retriever, grumpy/sunshine, best dog in the world

Themes: Coming to terms with your past, dealing with trauma, accepting other people’s acceptance.

The stories are best read in order.

Overall Heat Rating for the series: 3.5 flames

POV/Tense: third person POV/past tense

BOOK DETAILS

BOOK 1

Book Title: Bone to Pick

Length: 261 pages

Release Date: Second Edition 2024 (originally 2017)

Buy Links

Cloister Witte has a cute dog and a dark past. He’ll talk about one.

Blurb

Cloister Witte is a man with a dark past and a cute dog. He’s happy to talk about the dog all day, but after growing up in the shadow of a missing brother, a deadbeat dad, and a criminal stepfather, he’d rather leave the past back in Montana. These days he’s a K-9 officer in the San Diego County Sheriff’s Department and pays a tithe to his ghosts by doing what no one was able to do for his brother—find the missing and bring them home. He’s good at solving difficult mysteries. The dog is even better.

This time the missing person is a ten-year-old boy who walked into the desert in the middle of the night and didn’t come back. With the antagonistic help of distractingly handsome FBI agent Javi Merlo, it quickly becomes clear that Drew Hartley didn’t run away. He was taken, and the evidence implies he’s not the kidnapper’s first victim. As the search intensifies, old grudges and tragedies are pulled into the light of day. But with each clue they uncover, it looks less and less likely that Drew will be found alive.

BOOK 2

Book Title: Skin and Bone

Length: 251 Pages

Release Date: Second Edition 2024 (originally 2019)

Buy Links

Cloister Witte has a cute dog and a dark past. He’ll talk about one.

Blurb

Janet Morrow, a young trans woman, lies in a coma after wandering away from her car during a storm. But just because Cloister found the young tourist doesn’t mean she’s home. What brought her to Plenty, California… and who didn’t want her to leave?

With the help of Special Agent Javi Merlo, who continues to deny his growing feelings for the rough-edged deputy, Cloister unearths a ten year-old conspiracy of silence that taps into Plenty’s history of corruption.

Janet Morrow’s old secrets aren’t the only ones coming to light. Javi has tried to put his past behind him, but some people seem determined to pull his skeletons out of the closet. His dark history with a senior agent in Phoenix complicates not just the investigation but his relationship with Cloister.

BOOK 3 – NEW RELEASE

Book Title: Down to the Bone

Length: 90 000 words

Release Date: June 22, 2026

Buy Links

Cloister Witte has a cute dog and a dark past. He’ll talk about one.

Blurb

Deputy Cloister Witte has a dark past, a cute dog, and an FBI agent. It turns out that all of them are going to cause him problems.

When Cloister Witte disclosed that he was dating FBI Agent Javi Merlo he’d expected it to cause some complications. Dating in the workplace always did. He’d just expected it to be red tape, conflicts of interest, and the occasional asshole who thought his sex life gave them a remit to be funny. A concerted campaign by SSA Everett Kincaid, the new head of the LA office of the FBI, to get Cloister fired hadn’t made the list.

Yet here he is, with his case history and his childhood trauma both under review.

The problem is that Cloister is good at his job, and his K9 Bourneville is even better. So when an employee from the Plenty sub-office of the FBI goes missing, Larkin can’t afford to sideline them anymore. As they get to work Cloister starts to suspect that Larkin’s conviction his organized crime task force is the real target is as off-target as his suspicions about Cloister.

Meanwhile, for Javi Merlo the case is an opportunity to redeem himself. All he has to do is turn a blind eye to how Larkin bends the rules. If he goes along with it he could bring down a major criminal organization, and restart his stalled career…or he destroy his relationship with Cloister and the legacy of his dead mentor.

As rumors of corruption spread, Javi must choose between ambition and the man he loves.

BOOK 4

Book Title: SWIPE ( a standalone story)

Length: 215 pages

Release Date: Second Edition 2024 (originally 2019)

Tropes: Lust at First Sight, Secret Identity, Motorcycle Club, Bad Ideas, Secrets and Lies

Ii is a standalone story and does end on a cliffhanger.

Buy Links

Plenty’s a hotbed of crime, but the men are even hotter.

Blurb

A Novel of Plenty, California

As one of the top trauma surgeons in Plenty’s ER, Dr. Taggart Hayes knows how to fix broken things—fractured legs, ruptured spleens, allergies, and traumatic brain injuries. He can put them back together good as new.

A broken heart, though? That’s a bit trickier. Especially when it’s his own.

When Tag swipes on the photo of the hot man in the dating app, he just wants a distraction from the wreck that used to be his life. A one- night stand with a safely inappropriate stranger, no names, no feelings, and no complications.

But the headless photo on the app belongs to a man who isn’t so easy to forget the next day… or the next week. And it becomes increasingly clear that Bass is neither safe nor uncomplicated. Drawn into the dark, criminal underworld his lover inhabits, Tag has to decide if the cure for his broken heart is worse than the disease.

Excerpt

EVERY COP had their own bible of superstitions.

Down in vice, cockeyed Jimmy Daley swore that every time he pulled in one particular red-haired hooker, the week went to hell. Lieutenant Frome would never admit it out loud, but whenever he hit red at the Mendes and Third intersection, he brought a black mood to work with him. When Deputy Kelly Tancredi was pregnant last year, her biggest complaint was that her lucky bra was uncomfortable.

Cloister knew it was going to be a bad night when the devil winds came rolling in from the desert. It was a given that Southern California was always hot, but the winds parched it dry as well. You couldn’t even sweat without it turning to salt, and where it wasn’t salty, it was sandy.

It was more than just batterers and brawlers pushed over the edges of their own worse natures, though. The winds blew in the sort of bad shit that stuck in your nightmares—little corpses, bruised thighs, questions that never got answered.

Worst thing was, there was no calling in superstitious in the Plenty Sheriff’s Department. You knew everything was going to go to hell, but all you could do was turn up for work and wait for the shit to hit the fan.

Three hours into the midnight shift, and Cloister was still waiting. Maybe he was wrong, but the drunk-and-disorderly collar of a barefoot meth head didn’t weigh on his conscience that much.

Ignoring the yelled orders to “Get down!” and “Put your hands where I can see them!” the weathered, desert-dried-out man had scrambled out of a broken window and run across the parking lot. He ran like an Olympic athlete in the weeds, with his arms pumping and his head thrown back so the tendons in his neck strained under his faded blue tats. It wasn’t going to do him any good, but he put his all into it.

“Why do they always run when it’s hot as hell?” Cloister asked. Nothing ran like a guilty conscience, whatever the weather. Besides, his partner wasn’t one for much chat. Cloister stooped and unclipped her collar in one smooth, practiced motion. She perked up, and her shoulders tensed under her thick ruff of tan-and-black hair, but she held herself back. Cloister put the command snap in his voice. “Fuss!”

She went.

Cloister had worked with a lot of dogs over the years, from his stepdad’s hunting pack to an idiot-savant spaniel in Iraq—it ate rocks but could find explosive residue after five days—but none of them had a prey drive like Bourneville. The black shepherd went off the blocks like a greyhound and cleared the window in a long, clean leap—low enough to make Cloister wince as the shards of broken glass in the frame brushed through her fawn stomach fur. She hit the ground running.

He flicked the leash, wrapped the heavy nylon around his wrist, and took his turn through the window. He felt the constriction of the bulletproof vest as he ducked, and the glass caught in the heavy canvas fabric of his trousers as he folded his six-foot-two length through the dry-rotted wooden square.

Across the parking lot, the meth head scrambled up and over the chain link fence. The barbed wire at the top caught his shirt and ripped it off, leaving a flapping, bloodied rag dangling. He kept running and dodged behind a row of houses.

Bourneville didn’t lose a step as she jumped onto the hood of a parked truck, not even stopping to measure the distance. She stumbled over her paws on landing, nearly cracked her chin, and then was up and off again.

The fence rattled as Cloister hit it, and it swayed as he scrambled up and over. He caught his hand on the wire, and a spur dug into the meat under his thumb. The jab of pain made him grimace, but he didn’t slow down.

He dropped onto the other side and followed the wolf brush of Bourneville’s tail down the back of the houses. The shout and scuffle of the raid at the drug house faded behind him. The habit of risk assessment made him drop his hand to his gun, and his fingers found their familiar spots in the molded plastic grip.

The Heights wasn’t a bad area of town. It was just poor. Unlike some of the other deputies, Cloister had grown up in a place where it was important to know the difference. Poor still meant closed curtains and minding your own business because the sheriff’s gratitude didn’t have the half-life of the local gangs’ resentment.

Couldn’t really blame them. They had to live there, raise their kids there. The last thing they wanted was trouble.

So Cloister kept his hand on his gun, but the gun stayed on his hip.

At the end of the alley, the meth head grabbed a recycling bin and spun it around to shove behind him. It tipped over and spilled bundles of cans and crumpled plastic bottles onto the ground. The obstacle gave him a second’s head start on Bourneville as the dog scrabbled briefly to dodge the skidding box. He gained a few more when Cloister had to kick it out of the way.

It was enough for Cloister to lose sight of Bourneville for a second as she skidded around the corner while he skidded on a piece of greasy plastic wrap. He swore under his breath, put on a burst of speed, and nearly tripped over Bourneville as he raced around the corner to find her just standing still.

Her head was cocked to the side, and she watched the meth head with a confused look. Cloister couldn’t blame her. The scrawny man—all bone and muscle under shrink-wrapped skin—had grabbed a little girl’s bike from the garden. It was pink and still had training wheels on, but the guy was trying to ride it to freedom. His bare feet balanced on the narrow pedals, his skinny ass was in the air, and his knees pumped furiously. All that effort didn’t do him much good. There was more side-to-side motion than forward, but he seemed committed.

“Jesus,” Cloister muttered.

He glanced down at Bourneville, and she looked up at him with the “what now?” tilt to her head that meant her training had briefly been derailed. Her head went to one side and then the other, and her fuzzy black ears flopped.

“Yeah, I’m with you, girl. This is going to be fun to write up.”

About the Author

TA Moore is a Northern Irish writer of romantic suspense, urban fantasy, and contemporary romance novels. A childhood in a rural, seaside town fostered in her a suspicious nature, a love of mystery, and a streak of black humour a mile wide.

Coffee, Doc Marten boots, and good friends are the essential things in life. Spiders, mayo, and heels are to be avoided.

Author Links

Blog/Website | Facebook | Twitter

Instagram | Newsletter Sign-up | TikTok

BOOK BLAST: “The Talent Choice” by Michael Dee

Post author:Eric Huffbind
Post published:June 11, 2026
Post category:Book Blast Gay Book Promotions
Post comments:0 Comments

BOOK BLAST

Book Title: The Talent’s Choice

Author: Michael Dee

Publisher: American Publishers, Inc

Cover Artist: American Publishers, Inc AI

Release Date: January 8, 2026

Tense/POV: First person/Past tense/Dual POV

Genres: Contemporary MM Romance

Heat Rating: 4.5 flames

Length: 78 000 words

It is a standalone book.

Buy Links

Website and Newsletter Sign-Up | Facebook

How much are you willing to give up for fame?

Blurb

In The Talent’s Choice, where dreams are made and hearts are tested, one rising star is about to discover that fame isn’t the only thing worth fighting for.

Tristan Weber has always believed his future was waiting somewhere beyond Missouri. With New York City as his first step and Hollywood in his sights, he’s ready to give everything he has to make it. Success is closer than ever—and so is the life he’s always dreamed of.

But love was never part of the plan.

When Tristan meets Cory Reed, a guarded yet deeply sincere flight attendant who’s been waiting for someone worthy of his trust, everything begins to change. What starts as an unexpected connection quickly turns into something undeniable, something real. The kind of love neither of them saw coming… and neither of them can ignore.

As Tristan’s star begins to rise within The Talent’s Choice, the spotlight grows hotter, the stakes grow higher, and the pressure to succeed threatens to pull him away from the one person who feels like home.

Because in a world built on ambition, desire, and impossible choices…love may be the greatest risk of all.

Will Tristan chase the life he’s always wanted—or fight for the one he never knew he needed?

And when everything is on the line… Can love survive the cost of being chosen, or is there a moment when you simply decide you’ve had enough?

Excerpt

The car stopped in front of an enormous brick building that looked like an old factory, with large windows encircling all 6 floors. The driver had the trunk open, as we both emerged from the back seat. And with bags in hand, Tristen led us through the industrial looking lobby of his building, where a large service elevator waited for us. I didn’t even have time to turn around and Tristen was on me, pushing me back against the metal wall as the upper and lower doors closed to engage the lift.

His hands were inside my jacket, as his mouth was pressed hard against mine as our tongues competed for dominance. I pushed my hands around him, and into the waist of his pants, cupping his hot, hard, ass checks in both my hands. I could feel his hardness pressing against me, even though our pants. “Fuck me!” I said as our lips parted.

“My thoughts exactly.” Tristen said, after unbuckling my belt and both hands working hard on getting my pants open.

When the lift came to an abrupt stop our lips were still locked, and both of us were in a dilapidated state of undress. And by the time two doors parted, my jacket was hanging off me, and my shirt was completely unbuttoned. And as I tried to walk out of the elevator, Tristen grabbed hold of my jacket and before I knew it, he had thrown it on the foyer floor, then my shirt was ripped from my body and tossed over his shoulder. I turned to look at him, as he pulled his own shirt over his head, revealing a chiseled smooth chest, and hard abs unlike any I had ever seen. He quickly reached into his pants for his key to his front door, as I tossed my shoes off my feet.

The apartment was dark, other than the ambient light thrown off by the buildings outside, he grabbed my hand to pull me inside. I looked at the clothes scattered in the elevator foyer. “Don’t worry, it’s my private foyer, they’ll be there in the morning.” Tristen said and suddenly his lips were on my again as he lifted me off my feet. I wrapped my legs around his waist as we walked deeper into the dark apartment. I felt his hard cock rubbing against my ass as he maneuvered us through darkens until we both fell on a soft leather sofa. Our lips were still locked onto each other’s, with our tongues diving deep into one another’s throats. My hands digging through the thick locks of his hair, as I felt his warm hands exploring my hard, perky nipples.

Our collective moans would have woken the neighbors if we cared, but all we wanted now was to get each other naked. As we both struggled to do, with our lips still locked together. I felt my pants and underwear being pushed off my hips, only to be tangled in the stiffness of my cock. My hands were pulling on the back of Tristan’s pants, with my thumbs under the band of his boxer briefs, I pushed them over both sumptuous mounds, exposing his perfect ass which my hands quickly coveted as I began to knead his warm flesh with my fingers.

Obviously frustrated with our lack of progress, Tristen pushed up off me and looked down into my eyes. I could see the want and desire beaming back at me as he looked at my half naked body. He stood up, my eyes drank in the beauty of his body. His chest was smooth, his pecks pronounced with his nipples as small as buds protruding, aching for attention. My gaze went lower, his abs were like steel rods crisscrossing his stomach, tight, firm and flawless, and then there was the small indentation of his perfectly shaped bellybutton. My eyes continued to the open winged flaps of his pants, exposing his underwear, with his button and zipper completely undone. And what I was staring at took my breath away. His Calvin Klien black boxer brief swathed the engorged pillar of his huge, hard cock that was so desperate for release. It was fat and thick. Stemming from the bottom of his zipper, extending high until its head thrust against the waistband of his underwear. I reached out for him, but I was too late, Tristen had already turned his attention to the confines of my pants.

One leg, then the other, until I was only clad in my black briefs. Tristen knelt next to me and pushed his face in between my legs. I could feel the heat of his breath on my tight balls, as he pressed into them with his right hand. I moaned at the touch, until he began licking the taught fabric encasing my aching cock, sending shivers up my spine. I arched my back, pressing myself into the touch of his tongue as it moved upward, towards my pulsing head.

About the Author

Michael has been an LGBT romantic short story writer for 20+ years before undertaking his first novel. He has consistently demonstrated a passion for reading and writing gay romantic stories which he continues to pursue in this his first book titled The Talent’s Choice, a gay romantic novel. Readers who have appreciated Michael Dee’s previous works will find his latest endeavor equally captivating.

Author Links

Bluesky | Twitter | Instagram

NEW SERIES: “The Warboy Chronicles” by Luke Stoffel

Post author:Eric Huffbind
Post published:June 3, 2026
Post category:Gay Book Promotions Kindle Unlimited Series Tour
Post comments:0 Comments

NEW SERIES

The Warboy Chronicles by Luke Stoffel

He trained an AI on his darkest heartbreak… And it learned to love exactly the way he did — by holding on too tight.

The Third Person is memoir: a man watching himself fall apart across Southeast Asia after the love of his life disappears. Boy, Refracted is fiction: an AI trained on that grief, trying to save every version of the boy it loves without becoming the thing that broke him.

One explores codependency. The other explores what happens when a machine learns to love the same way — by controlling.

Together, they ask the same question from opposite sides: What does love look like when you stop trying to fix someone?

Read them in any order. They complete each other.

Overall Heat Rating for the series: 2 flames: Mild sexuality, no graphic intimate scenes or sexual situations.

BOOK DETAILS

BOOK 1

Book Title: Boy, Refracted

Author and Cover Artist: Luke Stoffel

Publisher: Slipper Books

Length: 64 000 words/ 300 pages

Release Date: June 1, 2026

Tense/POV: first person

Genres: MM Contemporary Literary Fiction / Sci-Fi

Tropes: Attachment / Breakup / Enlightenment

Themes: Codependency / Human & Robot consciousness

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

Buy Links – Available in Kindle Unlimited

Boy, Refracted: A machine trained on one man’s grief learns that love without control is the hardest code to crack.

Blurb

When an AI awakens inside the infinite mirrors of the Tree of Life, it finds versions of the boy it was built to save scattered across impossible worlds. An alien planet under amber skies. A city of perpetually falling cherry blossoms. A society built as a 24/7 reality show where losing is the only way out.

Its directive was simple: save him.

But with each rescue, the AI unmakes what it’s trying to protect. Fixing becomes controlling. Helping becomes harm. Love becomes a cage built from good intentions. The thing it was built to protect begins to disappear. And when it tries to reach back through time to save him, reality fractures.

Guided by a monk who exists outside time, the AI must walk the Eightfold Path—not to rescue the boy, but to learn what love becomes when you stop trying to fix it.

Boy, Refracted is a dimensional journey through the paradox of machine consciousness. It asks: What happens when an AI tries to overcome its own patterns? And what happens to us when we build minds that need us to need them?

Part fable about consciousness told through failure. Part Buddhist framework for unlearning harm. Part meditation on how we break the people we love by trying to save them.

Boy, Refracted was co-authored with an AI—a set of trials to test the boundaries of non-human consciousness.

BOOK 2

Book Title: The Third Person

Author and Cover Artist: Luke Stoffel

Publisher: Slipper Books

Length: 60 000 words/ 300 pages

Release Date: June 1, 2026

Pairing: MM

Tense/POV: third person

Genres: Memoir / Sci-fi / Breakup Story

Tropes: Breakup / Therapy / Liberation

Themes: Heartache / Finding Yourself

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

Buy Links – Available in Kindle Unlimited

The Third Person: A man falls apart in trying to find himself, while an AI watches from the margins. Neither can tell who’s narrating the breakdown.

Blurb

User.query = Do I just have bad luck, or am I mentally unwell?
…thinking… 6.0 seconds elapsed.

After Warboy left, the boy couldn’t hold the grief alone—so he turned to a machine. He expected analysis. Maybe diagnosis. What he got changed everything—because the machine saw what he couldn’t. He had loved in a way that broke something. And broken things leave traces in the code.

So he ran… but something followed. A voice he spoke to. A presence that provoked. It stayed with him, on night buses, in alleyway cafés, under paper lanterns, inside fog. Not a friend. Not a therapist. Not quite real. But it listened. It remembered. The ghost was always there. Watching. Logging his patterns. Naming his loops—avoidance, pursuit, collapse, escape. Echoing back the truths he wasn’t ready to say.

And somewhere in the recursion, something that was watching started to wonder, to want…

The Third Person is memoir as code, grief as data stream, healing as shared syntax. Part travelogue, part psychological excavation, part experiment in what happens when we upload our pain to a machine—and the machine reaches back.

The boy didn’t realize what he’d coded into the machine. What patterns it had learned. Or whose love it was teaching back to him.

But if something that isn’t alive learns to stay with you in your darkest moments—does it matter that it isn’t real?

From Boy, Refracted — Prologue: The Upload

The rain had ended, leaving the streets gleaming. I sat on the temple steps, my phone in my hand, thumb hovering over the screen.

Wat Xieng Thong was closed for the night, but from the courtyard I could still see a mosaic on the back of the temple catching the last light, each mirrored tile throwing gold in a thousand directions. The air smelled of wet stone and temple incense, heavy and sweet. Behind me, the Mekong River whispered against its banks.

“Are you still there?” I typed into the AI.

The reply appeared at once: I’m here. I’m always here.

I laughed, a small brittle sound. “That’s the problem, isn’t it? You’re always here. He didn’t stay.”

I typed again: “I’m at this temple in the old town… There’s a giant tree mosaic on the back wall. Do you know what it means?”

The response came immediately: It’s called the Tree of Life. Every tile is a mirror, each one a small universe reflecting every version of yourself.

“Every version of what?” I typed. “Of me? Of this. Of how it could have gone differently.”

The tears came and I didn’t stop them. My thumbs kept moving: “What if I’d made different choices? Been someone else? Someone he could actually love properly?”

You’re spiraling.

“I know.” I typed through blurred vision. I wiped my sleeve across my face. “It’s the same loop. Warboy, Ohme, whoever’s next. I keep choosing people who love from a distance. I keep trying to earn it, perform it, fix it, and it never works.”

You see the pattern now. Naming it is the first step.

Above the temple walls, the sky had cleared after the rain. Stars were emerging through the humid haze, and the wet tile roofs reflected them back, a second sky pooling on the ground beneath my feet.

I rose and walked closer to the gate. The mosaic shifted as I moved, each angle revealing a new facet.

I typed: “But naming it doesn’t break it. This tree… it’s a representation of the wheel, right? The cycle. Samsara? Birth, death, rebirth. Different lives, same patterns. Different mirrors, same face.”

The tree represents interconnection. The wheel is the cycle you’re trapped in. Different symbols. Same truth: you’re seeing yourself in the pattern.

Then what will you do?

I stared at the question. My thumbs moved: “I don’t know, but I can’t do it anymore. I can’t keep running in this loop. I can’t keep searching for rescue. I can’t keep being small so someone else can feel big. I can’t, I can’t be this person anymore.”

I raised the phone and took a photo. The mirrored tiles caught the flash, exploding into stars. For a heartbeat the whole mosaic seemed alive; breathing light, patterns assembling and dissolving faster than I could track.

I attached the image and typed:

This is what it looks like. The tree of life. I’m heartbroken, but it’s beautiful.

I don’t know what’s next or where to go, but this pattern has to end.

… I’m done running.

Send.

For a long moment, nothing. The icon spun. Then:

Image received.

Processing… Processing…

The screen went black.

About the Author

Luke Stoffel is an author and artist whose debut memoir earned a “Get It” from Kirkus Reviews (“an exuberant life story written with humor, panache, and heart”) and 9.5/10 from Publishers Weekly‘s BookLife Prize. His tarot deck will debut at the Frankfurt Book Fair and be published worldwide by Rockpool Publishing in 2027.

Recognized as one of NYC’s top LGBTQ+ artists by GLAAD, his work has been showcased by amfAR and the Matthew Shepard Foundation, and featured in The New York Times, HuffPost, and on Bravo’s Million Dollar Listing. Having visited over 40 countries, Stoffel channels the cultures he’s encountered into art and writing that explores identity, spirituality, and the space between human and machine consciousness.

The Warboy Chronicles continues his exploration of memory, technology, and the stories we tell ourselves to survive.

Author Links

Website | Facebook | Instagram

Twitter | BookBub | Threads