Spotlight Post | Sounds Complicated by Frances Fox

August 17, 2023August 16, 2023 ~ Ofelia Gränd ~ 2 Comments

Stalker ex Today, we have Frances Fox here to share an excerpt from her most recent release, Sounds Complicated, so read on!

RELUCTANT ROCKSTAR

Sounds Complicated

Book #2 of the Reluctant Rockstar series

Author: Frances Fox
Editor: Lourenza Adlem
Release: 15th August 2023
Price: $3.99
ISBN: 9798223112495
ASIN: B0C4Q29SS5
KU: No
Wide: Yes
Series: https://www.amazon.com/dp/B0C4Q8WZYZ
Amazon: https://a.co/d/cj0YBDy
UBL: https://books2read.com/SoundsComplicated
Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/151648521-sounds-complicated

KEYWORDS

MM, Rockstar, Contemporary, British, Hurt-Comfort, Opposites Attract, Spicy.

TAG LINE

A pining drummer and a snarky sound engineer have been walking around each other for months…

BLURB

Heggarty’s Bow drummer, Mordant, sticks firmly to the adage ‘don’t screw the crew’. He’s seen bands crash and burn over something like that before and he’d rather not risk the band dynamic. However, he knows he’s attracted to the charms of Pink the sound engineer and he’d determined to keep him at a distance. He’s got no interest in becoming just a notch on his bedpost, anyhow.
Pink is surprised and a bit hurt that Mordant makes no secret of avoiding him like the plague. Mordant’s a quiet, laid back guy most of the time, but he only interacts with Pink to criticise his work. Pink’s decided it’s best to just try to ignore him. He’s got enough history with moody blokes that he doesn’t need to take on any more trouble. He just needs to get on with things.
When one of Pink’s exes shoves him and he falls down the stairs at work, though, he’s surprised to find Mordant the one who volunteers to take care of him. Mordant is surprised as well. Where will the two of them go from here?

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

o_1h46i0m3318pm1v3jfc71lnsj41c Frances Fox writes contemporary MM romance. The Rockstar series is a new eight-book series of novellas following the musicians, stage-crew and friends of Heggarty’s Bow. If you like to read spicy MM stories about vulnerable guys looking for love, she’ll have you covered.

Website: https://francesfoxbooks.co.uk
Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/francesfoxbooks
Bookbub: https://www.bookbub.com/profile/frances-fox-e6fb0220-5282-4101-8467-cb11684c9176
Amazon: https://www.amazon.com/stores/author/B0C4SY2W4S
Newsletter: https://subscribepage.io/He2jKq

EXCERPT

Chapter 1: Pink
Fuck. Pink could see the steps coming up to meet him as he twisted sickeningly in mid-air. Should he put his arms out to break his fall? Or not?
In the end he couldn’t stop himself. It was pure reflex. He heard his wrist break as his palm hit the floor and he swore as he slid forward down the remaining stairs.
Fuck. Arse. Shit. Wank-fuck-bollocks. That was going to hurt.
Sure enough, as he tumbled to a halt at the foot of the steps, splayed on his back like a latter-day Omega Man, looking up at the stage, the pain kicked in and he swore aloud.
“Fuck!” he said, lying there for a moment whilst the auditorium spun around him. “Ow! Ow ow ow!” His head hurt, too.
What the hell had happened? One moment he’d been taping the cables down to the steps and arguing in a low voice with Ant, who’d been trying to persuade him to go on another date…and then he’d been falling. Had…had Ant shoved him? He couldn’t remember.
He started to sit up, pushing up on the elbow of his good arm and blinking dizzily, but a hand landed firmly on his chest and held him still.
“Stay there,” a voice he recognised said.
He blinked again. “Mordant?” he queried.
“Yeah,” said Mordant. “Stay put, will you? I’m calling an ambulance.” The hand disappeared.
“What?” Pink said, outraged, struggling to sit up and failing. “Don’t do that! I’m fine!”
He collapsed back onto the floor, making a liar of himself.
Mordant looked at him, one eyebrow raised in that annoying way he had, and continued dialling. “Yeah, hello, ambulance, please,” he said. “The Fallow Arena…stage door. Someone’s fallen and hit his head…”
Pink stopped listening. Had he hit his head? He raised his non-hurty hand to feel his forehead and his fingers came away sticky. Oh. That was probably why he felt a bit dizzy then. Fuck, his other arm hurt.
“Ow,” he said, again, plaintively.
Mordant patted his chest reassuringly, still on the phone to the ambulance people.
Things went a bit blurry again for a while after that, but he was conscious throughout of Mordant’s big hand on his chest, warm through his thin t-shirt. “Stay with me, Pink,” he said at one point, patting his face gently. “Keep your eyes open, Sunshine.”
Pink struggled…it would be so very easy to drift off to sleep and if he was asleep, he wouldn’t be hurting. Then he blinked, suddenly wide awake. “Sunshine?” he said. “What?” Not a word normally in Mordant’s lexicon, specially where Pink was concerned.
His face drifted above Pink’s against the hazy background of the high Arena roof. “What?” His expression was innocent.
“You called me Sunshine,” Pink explained earnestly, trying to focus his vision.
“Nope!” Mordant widened his brown eyes in fake disbelief. “I did not. That’s not something I call anyone!” Let alone Pink, was the unspoken corollary.
Pink shook his head and then winced. “I know what I heard, Mordant. You did!”
Mordant gave him a small smile. “Keep your eyes open, Pink,” he said. “They won’t be long now.” He spoke into the phone again. “Yeah, he’s still awake and talking sense. Mostly. Five minutes, okay. I’m going to hang up. I’ll have to ring security and tell them they’re on their way. Okay. Thanks. Bye.”
He glanced down at Pink and then up to someone Pink couldn’t see. “Yeah, actually, could you go and tell the gate? And tell them where to come?”
Pink was suddenly aware that there was a ring of people around them, a respectful distance away, but still. Some of the other techs and the bass player of the Purple Lizards. None of the other Heggarty’s Bow people that he could see, though.
“Bollocks,” he muttered. “What am I? The support act?”
“Shhh,” Mordant said, patting his chest again. “They’re worried, that’s all. You went down with quite a crack.”
“Send them away,” Pink said, shutting his eyes. “They’re looking at me.”
“Keep your eyes open,” Mordant told him firmly. “And you lot, bugger off. The show’s over. The ambulance guys are here.”
After that it was all can you move your thumb? and how many fingers am I holding up? and who’s the Prime Minister?
“That fucker!” Pink replied, which must have been good enough, as the EMT peering into his eyes with a little light laughed at him and said, “That’ll do, you’ve got all your marbles!” She switched off her mini-torch and stuck it back in the pocket of her overalls, continuing, “I want to take you in, though. I think you’ve got a bit of a concussion. And that wrist is broken.”
Pink grumbled under his breath but there wasn’t much he could do about it with Mordant glaring at him from behind her shoulder. “Do I have to?” he whined, as they discussed getting a stretcher. “I can walk,” he told them.
“Uh-uh.” The EMT shook her head. “You’ve got a head injury. Let us get you on the stretcher.” He looked at her pathetically and she said, “Humour me, all right?” before turning to Mordant and asking, “Are you coming with him?”
Mordant looked momentarily nonplussed, but before Pink could tell them he didn’t need anyone, he said, “Yeah, I will. I’ll need to tell Pete, hang on—” and stepped out of Pink’s sight.
“Come on then,” the bossy EMT said. “Let’s get you on this thing.”
They helped him to his feet and he was pleased for the aid. As he came upright, he was overcome with a wave of nausea that had nothing to do with the pain in his wrist, now wrapped in a soft, supportive splint. It was entirely down to the sickening, shifting sensation in his head. “I’m going to throw up,” he announced.
The second EMT expertly manoeuvred him so when he chucked up it was on the floor, not all over himself. He was shaking by the time he’d finished. Someone offered him a bottle of water and he took a sip and handed it back, before realising it was Mordant. Damn. He didn’t want anyone who knew him to have seen that. Too late now.
“Come on, let’s get you lying down again,” Bossy EMT said. “You’ll feel better then.”
He did as he was told, although she was lying, he didn’t feel better at all, he felt swimmy and hot and cold and nauseous. “I feel a bit odd,” he told her.
“Not surprised mate, you’ve got quite a bump on your noggin. You’re fine, though, just stay put and we’ll sort you out. Shut your eyes, we’ll wake you up when we need to check you, all right?”
“So he didn’t need to keep me awake?” Pink muttered.
“Don’t blame me,” he heard Mordant say. “I was only doing what the lady on the phone told me.”
“Huh,” Pink said.
He felt much better with his eyes shut. It was annoying not to be able to see Mordant, though. “You don’t need to come,” he told him again. “I’m fine. You need to get on and do the show. I gave you an extra monitor,” he told him. “You always bitch about the monitors. I found another one for you.”
He felt a hand pat his own. “I noticed,” Mordant said, looking gravely down at him as he opened his eyes. “It was very kind of you, thank you.”
“You’re only being kind to me because I’ve hurt my head,” Pink told him. “You don’t usually call me Sunshine.”
“I didn’t,” Mordant told him. “You imagined it. You’ve got a head injury.”
“I don’t want you to come,” Pink said. “I don’t want you to see me when I’m ill. You don’t like me anyway. It’ll make it worse.”
Mordant coughed. “Shut your eyes again,” he said. “You can now, remember?” He patted Pink’s hand again. “Do you want me to call anyone for you?”
Pink shook his head and then winced. “No,” he said. “No, thanks. No point worrying anyone. Mum and Dad live in Cornwall; they’d want to come up and it’s a stupid long way. Leave them be.”
“Boyfriend?” Mordant asked.
“No,” Pink replied shortly. “No-one. Stop fussing. Stay and do the show.”
“There’s hours yet,” Mordant replied comfortably. “I’ll come. It’ll be fine.” He turned to the paramedic. “I’ll go and get my kit and meet you at the wagon, all right?”
The paramedic nodded, talking to Mordant over Pink as if Pink wasn’t there. “Yeah, we’ll wait,” she said and looked down at Pink again. “Come on then, matey, let’s get you loaded.”

Guest Post | Town Bronze by Ellie Thomas

August 13, 2023August 7, 2023 ~ Ofelia Gränd ~ Leave a comment

The lovely Ellie Thomas is back on the blog!!! She’s here to talk about her new release, Town Bronze. Welcome, Ellie! 🥰

Town Bronze Promo 1

Thanks, lovely Ofelia, for having me as your guest again! I’m Ellie, I write MM Historical Romance novellas, and I’m here today to chat about my new story Town Bronze which is currently in the 20% new release sale at JMS Book until August 18th.

Town Bronze is the first in a new series. I wrote the story as a one-off for the JMS Books Silver Foxes submission call and then it dawned on me that it could be expanded into a trilogy! This series takes place in Regency London, which may feel familiar to readers of my Twelve Letters series. Town Bronze is set in 1812, two years before the events of Twelve Letters but shares a similar setting. So I had great fun name-dropping some of my Twelve Letters ensemble cast!

The characters in my Twelve Letters stories are established in society before the series starts. But in Town Bronze, I had the idea of taking a young, gauche character and observing how the London Season impacts their entire worldview in a hopefully humorous way.

Jasper Goodhew, my MC in Town Bronze, has left university and has been kicking his heels in his family home in rural Somerset for several months. After receiving an invitation from some university friends, he gets the opportunity to escape to London for the spring together with a generous allowance from his parents. He anticipates endless parties, entertainments and adventures with the ladies.

But Jasper is totally unaware of his inner desires, and rather than a comely female, these are exacerbated by Sir Mortimer Cleverly, a man almost twenty years his senior.

I had great fun writing about Jasper’s awakening and his rabbit-in-the-headlights moment! However, it felt important to contrast Jasper’s clueless confusion with Mortimer’s measured and experienced point of view. This provided balance to a story about an unlikely couple embarking on a tentative romance that might surprise them both by proving to be lasting.

Blurb:

townbronze At twenty-one, Jasper Goodhew is delighted to be freed from his parental constraints in rural Somerset and enjoy the delights of Regency London during the Season. As a follower in the fast set that runs around young buck Julian Buchanan, Jasper encounters many pleasures, from the elegance of Mayfair parties to the tawdry entertainments of Covent Garden’s taverns and brothels. However, when he meets silver fox Mortimer Cleverly, he discovers a hidden propensity for spanking.

Sir Mortimer is a seasoned and experienced gentleman who can spot a confused innocent at a hundred paces. Yet he’s unable to resist Jasper’s clueless appeal at least once. He feels a lurking sense of responsibility when Jasper returns for more. Aware of the dangers of such a connection with a confused young man, Mortimer attempts to mentor Jasper, leading them onto the safer ground of friendship.

But will the combination of his increasing attachment and Jasper’s irresistible compulsion foil their best intentions?

Excerpt:

The next part of Jasper’s evening passed in patchy coherence. The older gentlemen departed with dignity almost immediately after Jasper’s inadvertent blunder. With his wine glass replenished more than once by a luscious attendant, Jasper almost forgot about the impact of that searing gaze.

He was vaguely aware of some of his companions departing with young ladies. Others were content to remain, drink deep, and dandle a damsel on their laps. Minutes or hours progressed in a pleasant haze until Jasper reached the point where he had drunk himself sober.

Relatively clear-headed and suddenly thirsty, Jasper rose on remarkably steady legs to fetch a glass of water from the drinks tray on the capacious sideboard.

This gave him a clear view of the entrance hallway. The vestibule was empty, apart from the three gentlemen earlier expelled from the drawing room by an excess of wit.

The gentleman with the remarkable hair was shaking the hands of his companions with a few congenial words. In that instant of seeming sobriety, it was terribly important for Jasper to make amends. He couldn’t have fathomed if this was due to his basic good manners and general inoffensiveness when not as drunk as a wheelbarrow. Or perhaps he was prompted by the infinite unimaginable possibilities in those haunting eyes.

He entered the hall as the gentleman escorted his companions towards the exit. Jasper stood uncertainly in front of the central staircase, awaiting his opportunity. Once his companions had departed, the remaining gentleman approached a further another doorway off the hall.

“Excuse me,” Jasper said, belatedly adding, “Sir.”

The gentleman turned, raising an inquisitorial dark brow that made him no less forbidding.

During Jasper’s formal education, he occasionally got into trouble. To be fair, these incidents occurred either from absent-mindedness or when he tagged along in the wake of more exuberant and imaginative students. Any resulting discipline, a removal of privileges or corporal punishment, was a matter of course and not taken personally. His sporadic visits to the principal’s study were desultory and instantly forgotten by the disciplinarian and the culprit.

This charged confrontation was entirely different. Jasper was unnerved by the swooping feeling in his belly as he faced his unknown foe. The older man drew closer but remained silent, his face expressionless, that implacable glare holding a sense of threat and thrill.

“I think I was somewhat discourteous earlier, and I wanted to say I was sorry. I didn’t mean to be rude. We were all getting rather carried away and had too much to drink. I know it was a bit much, and we were rather close to the mark concerning you and your friends. But I suppose you were young once too, eh?”

Jasper tried and failed to raise a placating smile. The gentleman didn’t move a muscle and stared at Jasper as though regarding a failed scientific experiment.

“I mean to say, I was a bit bosky, and I wasn’t thinking straight. Anyone with decent eyesight could tell that’s your natural hair. You’re nowhere near old enough to be wearing a wig. You’d have to be in your dotage. And you’re not. Naturally. No one would think you’re wearing a cauliflower of the wig variety, and it doesn’t remotely resemble an actual cauliflower. I don’t know why I said that. You have very nice hair.”

Jasper’s ramble stuttered to a stop. Without softening his expression, the gentleman said, “You were insolent.”

Jasper blinked. He suddenly grasped his opponent was slightly the taller and his lean build held latent strength. He felt paralysed, like a snake to its charmer, in thrall to the depths of that gaze.

“I think you deserve to be punished.”

Jasper gulped.

The gentleman’s voice was persuasive. “You’ve earned a good thrashing.”

In a husky tone Jasper didn’t recognise as his own, he said, “I’ll let you be the judge of that. I’ll do anything you require.”

That eyebrow rose again. A glint of humour lit those night-dark eyes.

“Anything?”

“Yes. No. I don’t know.”

Town Bronze Promo 2

Book Links:

Amazon: https://www.amazon.com/dp/B0CDPG4VPY/ref=sr_1_1?keywords=town+bronze+by+ellie+thomas&sr=8-1

Universal Book Link:

https://books2read.com/u/baq0P2

Publisher:

https://www.jms-books.com/ellie-thomas-c-224_420/town-bronze-p-4795.html

Add to Goodreads:

https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/195672906-town-bronze

Add to Bookbub:

https://www.bookbub.com/books/town-bronze-by-ellie-thomas

Bio:

Ellie Thomas lives by the sea. She comes from a teaching background and goes for long seaside walks where she daydreams about history. She is a voracious reader especially about anything historical. She mainly writes historical gay romance. Ellie also writes historical erotic romance as L. E. Thomas.

Website: https://elliethomasromance.wordpress.com/

Facebook reader group: https://www.facebook.com/groups/8308047409266947

Twitter: @e_thomas_author

Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/19835510.Ellie_Thomas

Bookbub: https://www.bookbub.com/authors/ellie-thomas

Guest Post | Vampire Food

August 7, 2023August 4, 2023 ~ Ofelia Gränd ~ 1 Comment

Hiya! I’m here as Holly today because I have another story out!!! 🥳 It’s August and we’re celebrating National Sneak Some Zucchini Onto Your Neighbor’s Porch Day. You might not believe it, but Zucchini is vampire food… Nah, I’m lying. Noah, our vampire in Vampire Food, eats zucchini if he has to, but he’s not a fan.

The title is referring to Rue, who is a former blood slave. He’s a magic user, and vampires are very fond of magic users’ blood. Sadly for Rue, this means, they kept him prisoner and snacked on him over and over again.

A year before the story takes place, Rue, along with three other blood slaves, were rescued and taken to a gated community of supernatural beings.

He lives with the leader, a tigress named Gertrude, and she has given him a garden. Rue’s skill lies in plants, and once he realises he can order seeds online and plant them, they’re drowning in veggies. This is where the sneaking onto your neighbour’s porch comes in.

But all is not well in the community. One day, Rue finds a severed head in his garden, and soon other body parts pop up.

If you don’t like playing jigsaw with body parts, skip this one. If you’re fine with it, it’s a slow burn, hurt-comfort, found family kind of story with a magic user and a vampire and loads of veggies.

Vampire Food

vampirefood A former blood slave. A strapping vampire. More zucchinis than any man could eat.

Rue Yarrow was rescued from a blood bar and taken to a gated community of supernaturals. Haunted by nightmares and memories, he does his best to avoid people. His only solace is his garden, where he uses his magic to grow an abundance of vegetables. But one day, it isn’t the zucchinis greeting him, but a severed human head.

Noah Caramine wants as little drama as possible, and interfering with a vampire clan’s business is never a good idea. He’s never met a magic user and is curious about Rue, but he fears there will be consequences for stealing the blood slaves.

When body parts start popping up inside the walls, Noah doesn’t know if someone is trying to frame them for murder or distract them from keeping the blood slaves safe. Rue never believed he’d go near a vampire again, but when threats are drawing closer, he turns to Noah. Who better to keep him safe from vampires than a vampire?

Buy links:

Gay Paranormal Romance: 50,353 words

JMS Books :: Amazon :: books2read.com/VampireFood

Excerpt:

He slowly walked up the stairs, looking around so she wouldn’t spring anything unpleasant on him, but the house was empty apart from the two of them. On the kitchen table was a big metal water can.
Gertrude smiled at him as he lingered in the doorway. “For your garden.”
He nodded, and something close to excitement bubbled in his chest. His garden. Shit, he hadn’t been there for four days. What if all the seedlings had died?
She poured the coffee. “I’ve decided you’re not the face we should present to the world. It was stupid thinking, and I’m sorry for grabbing you.”
He nodded since an ice cube had lodged itself in his throat and prevented him from speaking.
“I need to do something different from what I’m doing, and in a drunken haze, I thought maybe we could mollify the humans’ call for blood with a pretty face.”
Rue winced. He didn’t want to be pretty. He believed it was what had gotten him into trouble in the first place. The vampires couldn’t have known he had magic until they bit him, so they’d chosen him based on his looks.
He looked like vampire food.
If he hadn’t looked the way he did, if he’d been more masculine, more butch… but it wasn’t true. Or partly, perhaps, but there was nothing androgynous about Chaton, and they’d taken him too, hadn’t they? Though not off the street, and they’d already known what he was.
“Since we last spoke, they’ve decided we aren’t allowed to sell things to humans.”
Her voice yanked him out of his self-pity session, and Rue frowned. “What?”
She shrugged. “They haven’t passed the bill yet, but I believe they will.”
“What does it mean, not sell?”
“It’s not worded quite like that. It says supernaturals shouldn’t be allowed to work jobs where humans have to interact with them. Cutting us out of all service occupations.”
Like bars and nightclubs. “You need humans.”
She stared at him. “What?”
“You need to hire humans.”
“I need to give our people work so they can earn money to buy food to survive. Food that has almost doubled in price in only a couple of weeks. Increased costs and no work, it’s a disaster waiting to happen.”
Shit. The humans were gearing up for war for real. “How many of those who live here would blend in?”
A crease formed between her brows as she watched him. “Blend in how?”
“How many would pass for human?”
“No one. They live here. No one who isn’t supernatural lives here.”
“And no one who isn’t registered would be willing to move to the other side of the wall?”
She was quiet for several seconds. “Everyone is registered, Rue. There isn’t a supernatural being here who isn’t registered. It’s illegal not to be.”
Fear clawed at him again. “You’ve registered me?”
Maybe she had without telling him. Maybe, if he ever entered the outside world again, everyone would know he had magic. The vampires would come for him again. He sucked in a breath, but it wasn’t allowed access to his lungs, so he sucked in another, and another. The kitchen swam around him, and a loud buzz built in his ears.
“Rue?”
Her voice sounded from somewhere far away.
“Rue! Come on, baby, look at me.”
He did. Her eyes had shifted into tiger eyes.
“Breathe with me.” She breathed in deeply, and he did his best to imitate her. When she blew out the air, he did too, and then they started over. He didn’t know how many times they did it, but when she finally smiled at him, he was cold and shaky.
“Drink your coffee.”
He nodded and almost knocked the mug over, since his hands didn’t obey him properly.
“I haven’t registered you. I assumed you were already.”
He shook his head.
“You’re not… registered.”
“Does anyone know I live here?” He bit into the blueberry muffin but couldn’t taste it.
She stared at him. “One hundred and two people live inside the walls, Rue.”
One hundred and two. “Including me?”
“Yes, including you.”
“And they’re all registered?” He nodded to answer his own question because, of course, they were. They were shifters and vampires.
“Yes. It’s illegal not to be registered.”
“Unless you’re human.”
She pursed her lips. “You’re not human.”
“I grew up human.”
Silence stretched, and he realized he’d never told her anything about himself.
“I grew up in the system.”
Puzzlement swept over her face. “Which system?”
“Foster homes. I have no idea who my parents are. I was moved from one home to another.”
She whined. “Oh, poor baby.”
He might have felt sorry for himself at the time, but there were worse things. Far worse.
“According to all papers, I’m human.”
She blinked. “What?”
“I’m human.”
“No, you’re not. Every shifter who passes you on the street can tell you’re not human. It’s in your scent.”
They could? He hadn’t known, but he’d never been around shifters.
“No humans ever noticed I wasn’t human. I’m not strong, I don’t have sharp teeth or turn furry, so how could they? I was hardly ever around any plants, and if I ever gave anything energy, I made sure no one was watching me. I don’t think Chaton is registered either.”
Her fingers curled around her mug as if it would anchor her. “What?” Her voice was nothing more than a whisper.
“He was shipped here from France. Illegally. I don’t think anyone knows he’s in the country. Authorities, I mean.”
She stared. “He… what?”
Rue grimaced. It was not his story to tell. “He grew up with his grandmother in France. When she died, his family sold him because of his latency.”
“They what!” The volume of her words shook the house, and Rue winced.
Before he could find his voice again, there was a knock on the door, followed by the sound of it opening, and a man came into view. He moved too fast. “Gertrude!”
Rue didn’t have a chance to move before he filled the doorway to the kitchen, and he was back to being unable to breathe. A vampire. Sharp teeth were peeking out as he spoke.
“It’s gone.”
“What’s gone?” Gertrude tensed, and Rue looked between them. The man was dark and ominous, broad-shouldered, dark-haired, and with a five o’clock shadow.
“I went to check the spot, and someone has dug her up.”
Rue whimpered. Her? Dark, almost black eyes turned his way, and Rue shrank in the chair. Dug what?
“Come. Let’s go somewhere else.” Gertrude got up and grabbed the man’s arm. “We’ll talk later, Rue.”

About Holly Day

According to Holly Day, no day should go by uncelebrated and all of them deserve a story. If she’ll have the time to write them remains to be seen. She lives in rural Sweden with a husband, four children, more pets than most, and wouldn’t last a day without coffee.

Holly gets up at the crack of dawn most days of the week to write gay romance stories. She believes in equality in fiction and in real life. Diversity matters. Representation matters. Visibility matters. We can change the world one story at the time.

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