cover reveal · Guest · New Release

Cover Reveal: The Valet by Mel Gough

Hiya,

I love this cover and the book itself looks fabulous. 🥰I never can resist a spot of forbidden romance. Or white tie and tails, for which I blame Count Victor Grazinski…and, o’course…one Thin White Duke… 😻

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*****

A warm welcome to my guest, Mel Gough, with her new novel, The Valet. Out on December 1st.

COVER REVEAL

Book Title: The Valet

Author: Mel Gough

Cover Artist: Black Jazz Design

Release Date: December 1, 2020

Genre/s: Historical M/M Romance

Trope/s: Forbidden love

Themes: Restoring trust

Heat Rating: 3 flames

Goodreads

When love does not dare speak its name, trusting is the hardest thing to learn.

Blurb

England, 1910 – Ted has a good situation as first footman at Montague Hall, the splendid Gloucestershire manor of the 6th Earl of Carran. But he has just made a mistake so serious it could cost him his position, and even land him in prison if the authorities found out.

As valet to the 9th Duke of Argyll, Richard’s London life is glamorous. But when he has his heart broken, he longs to get as far away from the city as possible. The pace at Montague Hall might be sedate, but its tranquillity is like a salve to his shattered soul. And unforeseen diversions are to be found even here. Like handsome, despondent first footmen.

The last thing Ted needs is a new temptation. But his Lordship’s new valet isn’t just gorgeous. Richard is also brave and kind – and he wants to make Ted happy, something Ted never dreamt would come to pass.

Trusting again is hard, and in a world that reviles their love happiness is hard-won. Can they hope to carve out a contented life against all odds?

Excerpt

Dorcas was just coming through the baize door, carrying a tray stacked high with serving bowls. Ted hurried to hold the door for her.

“Thank you.” She gave him a smile and quickly but gently deposited her load on a sideboard.

Ted was fond of the head housemaid. They got on well, and unlike many of the other servants, Ted trusted her. Dorcas was plain-spoken and a hard worker, and she didn’t tolerate the mean kind of teasing that some of the younger servants engaged in with impunity.

He went to open one of the tall cabinets where a couple of shelves were bare. “Here, I’ll do it.” He started stacking the bowls on the shelves, which were too high for Dorcas to reach without a footstool.

“Thank you.” Dorcas rubbed her arms. “Golly, those were heavy. Good thing Mrs Stokes didn’t see me. That would’ve been quite the hiding.”

“She would’ve had good reason.” Ted hefted the bowls. “Imagine if you had tripped with these!”

“Yes, but the stairs are steep and narrow, and it’s bad enough coming up once with that huge tray.” She watched as Ted opened a different cupboard and started counting bread plates. “Aren’t you done yet? You’ve been up here an age!”

Ted made a face. “You know what Mr Wymer is like. He won’t stand for a single spoon out of alignment. And Jimmy’s managed to wriggle out from under him, so I’m doing the dogsbody work.”

Dorcas clicked her tongue impatiently. “You have to stop letting him walk all over you, Ted.” She stood with her hands pressed into her sides, shaking her head. “Who’s the first footman, hmm? You or him?”

Ted kept his eyes on the plates. He might have confided many things in Dorcas, but the reason why he didn’t dare vex Jimmy was too shameful to share even with her. “You’re right, of course. But…you know what he’s like.”

“Oh Ted.” Dorcas sighed. “What are we to do with you?” She turned back towards the door to the back stairs, but then wheeled back around. “I nearly forgot! You were up here, and you wouldn’t have heard yet.” With a glance at the door to the dining room, which was half-open, she lowered her voice. “You won’t believe what happened. Mr Brown has handed in his notice. He just told us.”

Ted stared at her. “What do you mean?” He nodded towards the dining room. “But Mr Wymer didn’t say anything. He must be aware.”

“You know what Mr Wymer is like. Discreet to a fault.” Dorcas put on a serious face and lowered her voice. “An upstanding servant does not gossip, Theodore.”

Despite himself, Ted grinned. The imitation was spot on. Then he remembered the news and grew sombre again. “So Mr Brown’s gone.” After Dorcas, the Earl’s valet was Ted’s second favourite amongst the servants. They weren’t bosom friends – clearly, or Mr Brown would’ve confided his plans in him – but Ted valued the man’s support against Jimmy and Mrs Dankworth, who was the Countess’s lady’s maid and who liked to team up with Jimmy to make Ted’s life hell. Losing the valet would bring change to the balance downstairs, and that would not bode well for Ted. An unease settled in his gut.

Dorcas seemed not to notice. “He’s not gone yet, but he will be by the end of the week. The Earl agreed to let him go on short notice. You know he’s courting the daughter of that Cheltenham pub. Her father died a few days ago, and they need to move quickly so that the pub can stay open.”

“Mr Brown is going to be a pub landlord.” Ted was bemused by the idea. “You’d think that being valet for an Earl would beat that life any day.” He couldn’t imagine leaving service. The work at Montague Hall wasn’t exactly a walk in the park, but the house was comfortable and the Peytons were fair employers. After what he’d left behind at home in Yorkshire, this house was paradise. But then he remembered the impossible situation he’d gotten himself into with Jimmy. Maybe starting over new somewhere wouldn’t be so bad.

Dorcas shrugged. “I guess love trumps all in the end.”

Ted didn’t know what to say to that. He knew that people like Dorcas believed this, but he also knew that for people like him, this was not likely to ever happen. He picked up the stack of plates. “I better take these through, before Mr Wymer sends out a search party.”

“Right you are.” Dorcas gave him a smile and a wave, and vanished through the baize door.

About the Author

Mel Gough loves writing about love – but with a twist. Nominated for the 2019 Selfies Awards, her bisexual romantic suspense novel He is Mine is a typical Mel Gough story. She needs her HEA fix, but on the way there will be thorns and fire, and sometimes brimstone. All right, that might be over the top, especially since her stories are firmly based in the real world – though not always in the here and now.

Born in Germany, exploring other realities has been Mel’s siren call since she was young. Books opened up a plethora of worlds, and soon gave her a strong love of the English language. After an MA in Anthropology, field work in the middle of nowhere seemed like one adventure too far, so Mel settled in London, which, to misquote Dr. Johnson, she will never tire of.

Mel loves to bend genres – her romances are gritty and dark, and sometimes there’s a dead body. She’s been told that her prose is beautiful yet disturbingly real. She’s curious about bygone times, and hopes to speculate about the future in one of her next books.

Author Links

Blog/Website | Facebook | Twitter

Instagram | Newsletter Sign-up

Hosted by Gay Book Promotions

cover reveal · Guest

Guest: Eric Huffbind Cover Reveal Surrounded by Silence

 A warm welcome to my second guest of the day, Eric Huffbind. Being a bitalot fond of a theme…I couldn’t have conjured a more fitting title than Surrounded in Silence to shatter my um, seasonal silent as the grave streak.😳 

COVER REVEAL

Book Title: Surrounded by Silence

Author: Eric Huffbind

Cover Artist: Eric Huffbind

Release Date: October 14, 2020

Genre/s: Contemporary Gay Male Romance

Trope/s: Billionaires, Hurt/Comfort, Post-Divorce, Middle Age

Themes: Learning what it means to be selfless rather than selfish.

Heat Rating: 4 flames

Length: 71 000 words/259 pages

This is a sequel to The Rescuer, but can be read as a stand-alone.

Goodreads

Buy Links – Available on Kindle Unlimited

Amazon US | Amazon CA | Amazon AU | Amazon UK

Lonely billionaire, Samuel Barron, has finally met someone he finds himself falling for, but can he handle a romance for a gentleman whose entire world is surrounded by silence?

Blurb

After public humiliation, Sam Barron has come to the realization his billions can’t buy him love or happiness. Despondent and feeling like his life is in a downward spiral, he comes to realize he needs some professional help. Despite trepidations, Sam turns to Jason Parker, a social worker who at his heart, is a rescuer. Even though Sam had been so hateful towards him in the past, Jason can’t help but think Sam deserves to suffer. Jason tells Sam straight out, “You’re a spoiled brat without a shred of humility!”

Jason has deep concerns about helping Sam, but might be willing, if Sam volunteers at a soup kitchen. Grudgingly, Sam accepts Jason’s condition, and while performing his volunteer work, meets the flirtatious Noah Wagner. Noah is close in age, attractive, and Sam likes the way he feels whenever he’s around him. Noah is the first person Sam has known who is profoundly deaf. So, how is Sam to navigate a romantic interest with a man who can’t hear a word he says?

Surrounded by Silence, a Contemporary Gay Male Romance, is a sequel to Mr. Huffbind’s debut novel, The Rescuer. However, this book can be read as a stand-alone. If you enjoy a story where the villain becomes the hero, you will love Surrounded by Silence.

Excerpt

Sam stood up and walked towards the office door. He knew he was getting nowhere and felt defeated. Sam turned to face Jason. “If I told you I was sorry a thousand times…” Tears began forming in Sam’s eyes. “No matter how many times I apologize, it’ll never be enough! It will never be enough!” He grabbed the doorknob and started to turn it.

“Hold up,” Jason halted Sam. He was completely taken aback seeing Sam wracked with this much emotion. Jason was a rescuer, had always been a rescuer, and would always be a rescuer. He couldn’t help himself. No matter what, that was who he was, through and through. And now, somehow, Sam Barron was exposing his soft underbelly. Somehow, this bastard of a man had him starting to cave. Jason grabbed his ever-present nearby box of facial tissues and handed them to Sam, so he could dry his tears. “Please, sit down again.” Sam took a seat. “Look… as I said… I’m not comfortable with this. I need to talk to Christopher. This involves him as well. I don’t know how he’d feel about me trying to help you, and I’m still in a quandary if it’s right for me to even try to help you. I should at least ask Christopher how he feels about it. I’m still struggling with why you want me, of all people, to help you.”

“Because… I always want the best. I’ve always learned to trust my instincts, and my gut tells me you’re the best. Just name your price!”

“As I live and breathe, I can’t believe I’m going to say this to you out loud. Thank you. It’s nice to be valued.” He knew how important it was to all individuals to be validated, and in that respect, he was no different from the patients he cared for. Jason sighed. “And I can name my own price? I recall you have a habit of tossing money at issues as a way of resolving problems. Sam, being perfectly frank, I think you’re a spoiled brat!”

Sam became quiet, having to absorb harsh words about himself. Staring down at the floor, he said, “You’re right, I know. The thing is… I’d like to be a better person… earn your forgiveness for my actions… not just yours, also your husband’s.”

Jason snapped, “You were so cruel to me, and you wanted to control Christopher like he was your puppet, someone to serve your sexual needs.”

“I’m sorry. Like you heard me just say. It’ll never be enough. I said you could name your own price! How about five hundred dollars an hour?”

He pondered a moment. “Hmmm… Five hundred dollars an hour? That’s a lot of money. Let me think about it. I’ll talk to Christopher. Without his consent, there’s no way I’m going to allow myself to get involved!”

“Thank you. I completely respect your wishes, and wanting to talk it over with your husband, I can respect that.”

Jason inhaled deeply and slowly exhaled. “Sam… I will tell you this much. If you want to help yourself in trying to resolve all this anguish you’re having, as well as becoming a better person, the first thing you need to do is learn some humility. I can’t see you moving forward without it. You must learn humility. You need to think of someone other than yourself. My instincts tell me that’s a deep-rooted cause of why you’ve behaved so abominably in the past. I’m sorry if those words sound callous, but you have to start somewhere in this process. There are many in this world who don’t have the prestige and capital you’ve become accustomed to.”

“You don’t like to mince words,” Sam blurted out.

“If you want help, then you’re going to have to take a deep look inside of yourself. If you’re not completely honest, not just with me, but with yourself, you have no hope of pulling out of this emotional crisis you’re in.”

“What would you suggest I do to learn humility,” Sam asked, frowning.

“Volunteer. You should do some volunteer work. My suggestion would be to volunteer in a local soup kitchen, to work with people significantly less fortunate than you.”

“A soup kitchen?” Sam said with a pained grimace. “Don’t you think that’s a little beneath me?”

“No, it’s not a little beneath you… it’s enormously beneath you! That’s exactly why you need to do it, Sam. You have got to climb down off that high horse you are saddled on. I’m not promising I’m going to be able to work with you, but if you ever expect to become a better person, you have got to learn humility, even if I have to beat it into you. You’re going to have to throw yourself into the deep end of the pool. So, go out there and apply to volunteer at a soup kitchen. Let me have one of your business cards. I’m going to need a phone number to call you back at.”

Sam reached into his pants pocket and pulled out a billfold filled with business cards. “Can I have something to write with?” Jason was quick to hand him a pen. He scribbled down additional phone numbers to be certain Jason could get ahold of him. He handed over the business card. “Every phone number you could possibly reach me at is here. Thanks for your consideration. Now, I’ll excuse myself and let you get back to your work.”

“I’ll be in touch. You have my word,” Jason confirmed.

INSTAGRAM 2

About the Author

Eric Huffbind is a man of many talents. Over the course of his lifetime, he has worked as a Registered Nurse, a Travel Agent, and an Uber driver. He characterizes himself as a hopeless romantic and is the eternal social butterfly. Among his passionate interests are history, genealogy, romance books, and travel.

Although his novels focus on the romantic relationship of two gay men, regardless of your sexual orientation, his stories are meant to rekindle the spirit and euphoria of falling in love.

Eric is a lifelong resident of Southwest Ohio. Born in Cincinnati, Ohio, he currently resides in West Chester, Ohio with his husband Paul and their Pomeranian, Linus.

Social Media Links

Blog/Website | Facebook Profile | Facebook Author Page

Twitter | Newsletter Sign-Up | Instagram

Giveaway

Enter the Rafflecopter Giveaway for a chance to win

a $25.00 Amazon Gift Card

a Rafflecopter giveaway

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cover reveal · Guest

Cover Reveal: The Experiment by Rebecca Raine

Hi, 

I’ll post the next part of My Way later, but in the meantime I wanted to share the gorgeous cover of an upcoming release: The Experiment by Rebecca Raine.

I’ve been lucky nuff to read a preview copy and will post a review on the 18th, but suffice to say, I loved it. ‘Twas such a fabulous read I could’ve finished it in one sitting, if I hadn’t had to do such pesky things as feed us…

 

Cover Reveal

COVER REVEAL

Book Title: The Experiment

Author: Rebecca Raine

Cover Artist: Bec Rivers

Release Date: Tuesday, 18 August (AEST)

Genre/s: Contemporary MM Romance

Trope/s: Friends-to-Lovers, Gay for You, First-time Gay

Themes: Friendship, Self-discovery, Self-experimentation

Heat Rating: 4 flames

Length: 85 000 words/ approx. 210 pages

It is a standalone book.

Goodreads

 

When a single kiss calls your sexuality into question,

there’s only one sure path to a reliable answer: further research.

 

Blurb

Patrick

I like to think I know myself outside and in. As a developmental psychologist, I’ve spent years exploring the true foundations of my identity. So, when losing a bet means kissing my best friend, Logan, I already know I’m going to hate every second of it. All the relevant questions regarding my sexuality were asked and answered years ago. The results were conclusive: despite the odd same-sex attraction, I dislike being touched by men.

That is, it seems, until Logan is the man doing the touching. The intense desire aroused by his kiss contradicts all my expectations and I have no idea how to integrate the new information. Thankfully, I know exactly how to uncover the truth about myself—once and for all.

Logan

I’ve put a lot of effort into keeping Patrick out of my fantasies and in the friend-zone. Our recent lip-lock may have unleashed my feelings for him temporarily, but I’ll get them back on their platonic track in no time. Falling for a friend, especially a sexually ambivalent friend, is a one-way ticket to heartache.

But, when the unforeseen impact of our kiss inspires Patrick to conduct an experiment into the extent of his bisexuality, I can’t resist volunteering to help. If any man is going to join Patrick on his journey of self-discovery, it’s sure as hell going to be me.

 

Excerpt

“I refuse to give up,” Patrick insists. “I came here to kiss a man and I’m not leaving until I do.”

Dropping my head back, I swear at the ceiling. “Fine, but you’ll have to find him yourself. I’m done.” It was a stupid bet anyway.

“I will.” He tugs at his bottom lip with two fingers as he leans on the table, eyes intent. “I just need someone more like…” The words trail off uncertainly. “Someone like…” His head swivels and those blue eyes widen as they lock with mine. “You.”

My eyebrows make a leap for the ceiling. “What?”

“I could kiss you.” His whole body turns towards me, catching up with the insanity of his brain. “Why not? You’re hot. Guys fall all over you, and if I had a guy-type it would totally be you—obviously.”

“Obviously?” I repeat. “How is that obvious?”

He tuts. “We don’t hang out all the time because you rub me the wrong way.”

I haven’t rubbed him in any way—right or wrong. Still, the words make my stomach drop, in direct counterpoint to my cock.

“I don’t kiss straight guys,” I tell him. “You’re more trouble than your tight little virgin arses are worth.” I’ve already learned that lesson, and I don’t need a repeat.

“I’m not some random straight guy. We’ve been friends forever.”

“It’s been a year, Patrick.”

“Yeah, but it feels like forever.” He licks his lips. “I would feel comfortable doing this with you.”

My jaw drops. “It’s nice to know the thought of kissing me makes you feel so… comfortable.” I make sure to emphasise the last word, exposing it as the flaming insult it is. “It’s still not happening.”

“But—”

“Nope.” I hold up a hand to cut him off.

Releasing a breath, he slumps forward over the table. “Fine. Don’t kiss me.”

The silence isn’t comfortable this time. Actually, it’s really fucking awkward.

“I’m gonna go get us another drink,” Patrick announces, straightening from his lean. “Then I’ll kiss the hell out of the first guy who says yes, and we can call it a night.”

He doesn’t look at me as he walks away. I sure do look at him though. From the top of his brunette head all the way down to his well-formed arse. It’s not a temptation I give in to often. I wouldn’t be doing it now if he hadn’t opened his bloody mouth.

The second he suggested the stupid bet I should have known it would end badly. I didn’t even bother trying to win the game of pool. Kissing a woman would have been no big deal. I’ve done it before, back when I was a kid and I wasn’t ready for the world to know my interests lay elsewhere. At least me losing the bet wouldn’t have ended in all this drama.

Gazing out at the sea of men, I wonder who Patrick will end up kissing. Probably some arsehole who’ll try to grope him or get his grind on before the kiss is done. The idea doesn’t sit well. If anybody is going to grope my friend, it bloody well should be me.

“Fuck it,” I mutter before taking off after him. If he kisses some wanker before I get my hands on him, I’m gonna be pissed.

 

 

About the Author

Rebecca is a long-time lover of all things romance. Whether it’s a book, movie, or real life, she will always have more fun if there’s a love interest thrown into the mix. She lives in Queensland, Australia with her very own hero husband, two quirky kids and one big, black dog. Other than reading and writing books, her favourite things include loud music, enjoying a glass of wine on the patio, organising everything in existence, and spending too much time on the Internet.

Social Media Links

Blog/Website | Facebook | Facebook Author Page

Pinterest | Newsletter Sign-Up

Instagram | BookBub | Goodreads

 

 

Giveaway

Enter the Rafflecopter Giveaway for a chance to win

one of five mobi copies of The Experiment

a Rafflecopter giveaway

 

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cover reveal · Guest

Cover Reveal – Conned by Kim Fielding

Hiya,

I’m sorry I’ve been away for a while, I took a little time out to work on some edits and catch up on a spot of reading and a few movies.  I hope that you and your loved ones have all remained safe and well.❤️

 I thought it would be lovely to return with a Guest Post rather than launch straight into some more wafflish. So here, for your delectation…is the gorgeous cover of the new MM historical paranormal mystery, ‘Conned’ by Kim Fielding:

 

Coming soon: 1st June 2020

Book 6 in The Bureau series


Blurb

World War I veteran Thomas Donne is new to San Francisco. Always a stoic man, shell shock and a lost love have nearly turned his heart to stone. No matter—a private eye has no room for softness. Almost broke, he takes on what appears to be a simple case: finding a missing young man.

As a magician and medium, Abraham Ferencz cons his audiences into believing he can cheat death and commune with their dearly departed. Although his séances are staged, the spirits are very real, and they’ve brought him almost more pain than he can bear.

When Donne’s case becomes complicated and the bodies start to pile up, he and Ferencz must fight their way through a web of trickery and lies. The truth is obscured by the San Francisco fog, and in their uncanny world, anyone can catch a bullet.

Amazon | Smashwords


Giveaway

Kim is giving away a $10 Amazon gift card AND eBook copies of The Bureau V1 and V2 to one lucky winner. For a chance to win, enter via Rafflecopter:

a Rafflecopter giveaway

Direct Link: http://www.rafflecopter.com/rafl/display/b60e8d47121/?


Excerpt

When Abe was done with the slates, he would ordinarily have turned to the third and final act of the séance. It involved darkening the room, asking the audience to concentrate on their loved ones beyond the veil, and then operating a series of trap doors and curtains via hidden controls. Masks and gauzy drapery covered in luminescent paint would make flickering appearances. One key here was for his accomplice to have the first sighting. Rosie would gasp or scream before Abe had yet showed a prop, making everyone else eager for their own glimpses. The other key was to do this illusion after the guests had lost any lingering doubts.

It was a wonderful illusion, one that would send his guests away feeling as if their money had been well spent. But today one guest continued to have doubts, and Abe’s curiosity was too strong to resist. He decided to postpone the finale.

“Friends, I vill now move among you and see if I receive any messages from beyond.”

Rosie lifted her eyebrows, clearly surprised he was going to do a cold reading. He generally did that only during séances where he’d given the guests a brief refreshment break and Rosie had the opportunity to slip him notes about the people she’d spoken with at the beginning. It certainly hadn’t been part of today’s plan.

Nonetheless, Abe moved among the chairs with his head atilt, as if he were listening for a faint sound. He stopped in front of Rosie and closed his eyes. “Ah. I’m hearing a voice…. A woman. Mary? No. Margaret.”

Rosie gasped and clutched her chest. “My sister Meg?” she asked tremulously. “She passed five years ago from rheumatic fever.”

In fact, Rosie had two sisters—neither named Margaret and both quite alive—who she didn’t especially get along with and spoke to only infrequently. But she wobbled her chin convincingly as Abe nodded. “Yes. She says she misses you. She remembers the… the necklace you gave her for her birthday. It vas such a lovely gift, she says.”

Tears started to leak from Rosie’s eyes. Crying convincingly on cue was one of her many strengths. “She loved that little thing. We buried her in it.”

“She vants you to know that she’s very happy vhere she is now. She knows your life vill be long, but someday you shall see her again.”

“Th-thank you, Mr. France. Tell her I love her too.”

“She knows.”

Abe moved down the row to a man in his fifties, a Mr. Van Goethem. He was dressed moderately well but not richly, and his weathered face and battered hands suggested he’d once labored outdoors. He had an accent—Dutch or Belgian; Abe wasn’t certain—but it wasn’t strong, so he’d been in the United States for a long time. These observations and a general knowledge of human beings allowed Abe to make some safe guesses.

“I am hearing a woman again. She is…. I see the letter A?”

“Anna?” Mr. Van Goethem seemed confused.

“I am not sure. I believe the A is not at the beginning of her name.”

Mr. Van Goethem let out a noisy sigh. “Johanna. My mother.”

Perfect. Abe had chosen A simply because it was common in feminine names; after that, he could get the guest to lead him on the right path. “Yes, your mother. She says…. Oh.” He frowned deeply as if distressed.

“What? What does she say? Mama, I—”

Abe held up a hand to silence him. “It’s…. Oh, I see.” He bent so as to put his eyes on level with Mr. Van Goethem’s and lowered his voice as if to tell a secret. He knew his words would carry nonetheless. “She says she forgives you, sir. She knows you are a good man at heart. She is proud of you.”

Mr. Van Goethem didn’t cry, but he clamped his lips together and his throat worked. He gave a jerky nod.

This had been nothing but a guess. In Abe’s experience, nearly everyone had disappointed a parent at one point or another.

At last, heart pounding, Abe moved to the back row and came to a halt in front of Donne. Standing this close, he could see a bit of pale stubble on those broad cheeks and stubborn chin. Donne’s eyes were more fog-like than ever: opaque and chilling. The type of eyes a man could get lost in. He sat straight-backed but not tense, heavy muscles relaxed beneath his cheap suit and good shirt. But his hands—yes. They hung over the armrests and moved with the hint of a tremor.

Interesting.

Without truly intending to, knowing it might even be dangerous, Abe reached out and settled a palm on Donne’s shoulder. Although Donne flinched slightly, he didn’t strike out or move away. His jaw tightened, though, and his eyes narrowed.

The war, Abe thought. Yes. Donne was the right age for it, and his accent thick enough to suggest he’d come of age in England instead of the United States. Besides, there was something about the set of his body and the creases around his eyes. “I hear… a man,” Abe began.

And then he did.

As clear as if the person stood next to him, a voice spoke in Abe’s ear. It sounded young and sad and thin. Tommy. Oh, my darling Tommy, what have they done to you?

Abe unwillingly echoed a phrase, the words tearing his throat. “My darling Tommy.”

Donne leapt to his feet, jerking back so violently that he toppled the chair. One hand went into his coat pocket, and Abe was certain he was about to be shot. The idea didn’t frighten him, mostly because he was too deeply awash in the spirit’s sorrow. “Don’t hurt him, Tommy.” From his own mouth, but it wasn’t his accent or his voice. “Please don’t.”

The spirit… the man had been in his early twenties, perhaps. A pointed chin and sharp nose, thin mobile eyebrows, a wide mouth always a moment away from a cheeky grin. Ears that stuck out a little. Abe knew this although he couldn’t see the spirit. Just as he knew the spirit’s name. “Albert,” he said in his own voice.

Donne jerked again but held his ground. He was breathing hard.

Abe’s knees felt weak, his head swam, and Albert whispered in his head: tiny snippets and phrases that Abe couldn’t quite catch. Reaching out for a chair back to support himself, he became aware of the wide eyes and gaping mouths of his guests.

With considerable effort, he gathered his wits, giving Donne a quick apologetic glance before striding to the front of the room. He cleared his throat before falling back into his faux accent. “I am sorry, friends. Today the spirits have qvite exhausted me. I hope you have found some of the answers you sought.”

The guests seemed pleased as they gathered their coats and hats and filed toward the hallway and the door. They thanked Abe as they shook his hand. Soon only two others remained: Rosie, looking about as if perhaps she’d mislaid a glove, and Donne, towering and jut-jawed in the back of the room.

“I need to talk to you,” Donne growled.

Abe simply nodded. He took Rosie gently by the arm and led her down the hall, surreptitiously offering her five dollars at the door. She took it but paused with her hand on the knob. “Are you all right?” she whispered.

“I’m fine.”

“That was—”

“I’ll explain another time, sweetheart.”

She scrunched her mouth together. “But that big fella, he don’t look too safe.”

“Nothing worthwhile ever is. I’ll see you tomorrow, Rosie.” He gave her a gentle push out the door and locked it behind her. Then he turned and walked back to face Donne.


Author Bio

<imgsrc=”https://www.otherworldsink.com/wp-content/uploads/2020/05/AUTHOR-PIC-Conned.jpg” alt=”Kim Fielding” width=”600″ height=”600″ />

Kim Fielding is the bestselling, award-winning author of numerous m/m romance novels, novellas, and short stories. Like Kim herself, her work is eclectic, spanning genres such as contemporary, fantasy, paranormal, and historical. Her stories are set in alternate worlds, in 15th century Bosnia, in modern-day Oregon. Her heroes are hipster architect werewolves, housekeepers, maimed giants, and conflicted graduate students. They’re usually flawed, they often encounter terrible obstacles, but they always find love.

After having migrated back and forth across the western two-thirds of the United States, Kim calls California home. She lives there with her family, her cat, and her day job as a university professor, but escapes as often as possible via car, train, plane, or boat. This may explain why her characters often seem to be in transit as well. She dreams of traveling and writing full-time.

Author Website: http://kfieldingwrites.com

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

Author Twitter: @KFieldingWrites

Author Instagram: @KFieldingWrites

Author Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/4105707.Kim_Fielding

Author QueeRomance Ink: https://www.queeromanceink.com/?s=kim+fielding&search_type=authors

Author Amazon: https://www.amazon.com/Kim-Fielding/e/B006FN2T78?

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cover reveal · Guest

Fighting Chances: cover reveal

Cover Reveal for the Charity Anthology

❤ Fighting Chances ❤

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Can love heal years of resentment and little hurts? And is the line between hate and love really all that thin?

In these almost 200,000 words of stories by well-loved M/M authors united by a common cause, you can find men in conflict with each other and with themselves… ready to give love a fighting chance.

Pre-order at only $2.99 –> https://smarturl.it/FightingChances

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For a chance to win a free copy, share
on you wall/group.
Every 50 entries, a copy will be given away!
Help make this anthology a success for children! ❤

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cover reveal

Charity Anthology: Fighting Chances

Coming Soon:
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#AlmostACoverReveal #ImaTeaseSorryNotSorry
Are you intrigued yet…?
Tags in these enemies-to-lovers stories:
 

#contemporaryMMRomance #nerdjock #sizeDifferences #BigSmall #baker #nerd #Crossdressing #MistakenIdentity #lingerie #manties #SecondChanceRomance #biracial #closeted #alwaysaBridesmaid #SistersBestFriend #wartime #WarEnemies #Soldiers #Magic