A Thousand Word Thursday Excerpt from Chrissy Munder

I spent one long, hot, un-airconditioned summer working in a small, coin-operated laundry and while I never saw a customer like this one a gal, or guy, can dream.

Excerpt from The One That Counts by Chrissy Munder

The mat at the front entrance chimed and Rob lifted his head, turning away just as quickly. Crap. Not tonight. Rob chewed nervously on his lower lip, Barry's voice droning on in his ear. Unable to help himself, Rob stared as the man carried his duffle bag to the end row of washers. Rob had noticed him two or three Saturdays ago. Actually four, his brain helpfully supplied. Nothing too out of the ordinary, a single guy and his laundry strolling in right before the last load time posted on the front door.


He probably rented one of the cheaper units in the nearby apartment complex, unwilling to pay the extra cost for the so-called convenience of a pint-sized washer and dryer unit that wouldn't even handle three towels. He captured Rob's attention despite the way he washed, dried, folded his clothes, and walked out each time with nothing more than a nod in Rob's direction.

“Did I tell you Rachel Wallis and her amazing ta-tas is supposed to be there tonight?”

Rob ignored Barry's continued campaign and squatted on his heels. He grabbed the next huge bag of dirty laundry and dumped the contents into the sorting cart.

“She keeps asking me how you like college and what you're up to.” Barry fed some coins into the vending machine, and Rob listened to the familiar clunk as a soda dropped into his friend's eager hands. “She's still got it bad, must be all your tall, pale, and skinny. You show up tonight and even without the six-pack she cost me, I bet you could hit that.” The soda hissed agreement as Barry popped the tab, bubbles rushing to the opening.

Rob stood back up, absently tugging at his fallen shorts once again. Somehow he had managed to lose a freshman fifteen, not gain. He either needed to buy a better fitting pair or regain some weight. He turned to steal Barry's soda only to stop, surprised to find the newcomer had joined Barry at the counter, his brown eyes fixed on where Rob's hand still rested on his waistband.

“Can I get change here?”

The guy had a nice voice, almost gentle. For once Barry shuffled out of the way without Rob nagging him. His soda dragged along, wet trails of condensation left behind. Rob swallowed, staring at the mess as he silently took the offered bill and returned the change. Of course, the first time he approached Rob, it had to happen with Barry around. Rob caught a quick flash of silver, a broad band encircling the man's thumb, and then it disappeared from view, folded over the coins. Rob waited for him to walk away, hoping like hell his ability to breathe would return once he did.

“Thanks.” The guy held his ground, and Rob looked up in time to catch a flirtatious smile. “Your name's Rob, right?”

Rob nodded. He cast a glance to the side, all too conscious of Barry's closeness.

“I'm Jim.”

Despite his desperate mental plea, Rob's mouth and brain refused to communicate. He bobbed his head once again, willing himself to say something that wouldn't sound stupid or juvenile.

“I guess I'll be seeing you around.”

Rob's eyes followed the scuffed brown boots as they trailed back to the washers. Barry started in, nothing different than a hundred times before when customers had interrupted them, but all of Rob's focus stayed on the close fit of faded denim as Jim strolled away from him. Rob traveled up the long stretch of leg, paused at the soft gray T-shirt pulled over a curving slab of back muscle, and continued to the black, curly hair pushed behind the glint of more silver.

What an idiot, Rob chastised himself as his mind abruptly re-engaged, flooding with appropriate replies to Jim's conversational opener. There shouldn't be anything special about him, just another guy here to wash his clothes. Rob couldn't understand his fascination. Well, that was the problem, Rob thought as he wiped at his suddenly dry lips.

He could.



~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The One That Counts available from Dreamspinner Press.



When Rob Gentner’s father dies, his partner David sees an opportunity to shed some light on a past Rob rarely talks about. Standing in front of the family-owned Laundromat that was a major part of his upbringing, Rob finally shares the story of the summer of his first year of college, the beginning of his self-acceptance and life as a gay man. Finally David can understand the circumstances that made Rob the man he loves today—and they both decide that while first times will always be remembered, the last times are the ones that count.



To learn more about Chrissy and her work find, friend, or follow her on the web:

Website: http://www.chrissymunder.com
Blog: http://chrissymunder.livejournal.com/
Facebook: http://www.facebook.com/chrissymunder
Twitter: http://twitter.com/ChrissyMunder

Dragon Whisperer by JB McDonald

Title: Dragon Whisperer
Author: JB McDonald
Cover Artist: Skylar Sinclair
Publisher: Torquere Press
Genre: fantasy
Length: 55 pages
 
Getting magically eaten by a dragon wasn't part of the plan. Really, there hadn't been much of a plan to begin with, but it had definitely involved more dragon slaying and less getting knocked unconscious. Even the unconsciousness wouldn't be so bad if it didn't push Ashe closer to death each time.

Katsu is worried sick at Ashe's descent. He's worried enough to find a dragon whisperer to help, despite the fact that he hates her. He hates her appearance, he hates her attitude, and he especially hates the way she's helping his lover when he couldn't. Despite this, he hopes she succeeds -- or soon Ashe won't be alive at all.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Katsu and Ashe are back, and the dragon hasn’t left. The story arc continues from the previous book, where magic activated a dragon egg Ashe had kept as a curiosity. The dragon that hatched from it bonded with him and feeds on his elven magic. He’s a tasty meal and harder to drain than a mere human, but the dragon is a hungry little beast. Katsu, the curmudgeonly human medic and Ashe’s new lover, doesn’t know what to do to free Ashe from what is basically a parasite, and now the dragon is feeding on others. To protect their friends and to find a way to save Ashe, the two set out to find a dragon scholar.


The dragon part of the story arc follows on directly from the previous book; the dragon was a danger then and a bigger menace now. Their searches bring them to Tabitha, whose knowledge and help they need just to keep Ashe alive while he learns how to cope with a dragon that’s permanently attached to him. Tabitha has an interesting affinity to the dragons and some parallel skills; everyone around her save Katsu is smitten with her, and even Ashe is submitting his will to her in some alarming ways.

The relationship between the men is blooming. With worry, caretaking, and a little bit of panic to drive them, Katsu gets to show his grumpy version of love, finding the person with answers, and then making sure she doesn’t get to define all the questions too. Perhaps Tabitha understands dragons, but Katsu understands Ashe. Ashe is kind of passive here, but given his near-death and reliance on others just to find a way to cope, he’s not doing too badly. He needs Katsu’s clearer thinking to guide him. They go from mere sex partners to lovers over the course of these stories, and it’s not quite solidified yet.

Their relationship with the dragon undergoes some changes. “Look how cute” quickly turned to “dangerous and hateful beast” but once Ashe learns some skills to conserve his magic, there is almost fondness, and even some appreciation for it.

My one annoyance with this series is that it seems to be more of a serial novel, since the parts are standing less alone as they come out. However, these are big meaty chunks of story with real development in each, so I’m probably going to just make a grouchy Katsu-face and grab the next one when it’s out.4 marbles

A Picture is Worth...

Anyone want to tell us the story behind these two? Send one hundred to 1000 words of ficlet or excerpt  to CryselleC AT gmail DOT com with blurb links, and cover art and I'll post it. The rest of us will sit here saying "Awww."

Do I need the splash page or not?

I don't know if it's some misguided sense of modesty or if a few little tweaks would make a difference, or if I should just make the change. I've had the adult content splash page up pretty much since I started reviewing, but now I'm not so sure.

There's no porn going on. I do discuss sex, but we're all grownups here and there's more sex on prime time TV. And certainly on cable. Even with my pictures, I'm definitely choosing more for what's going on than for what's showing. Even Mr. Naked Christmas Boy didn't have anything exactly hanging out, and he's buried in the archives now.

If there was a way to make the splash page turn off after you've been here once and should know what's inside, I'd leave it. But I could just make a couple of different word choices.

It's not that we're taking about guys having sex that should be the only reason for the adult content page. That's a lot like saying all m/m romance books belong on the erotica shelves at the etailers, and that's sure not true. If it's only how I discuss it, I can change the language a little, like I already have to do to post at Amazon. (The perils of machine censorship-I called a character's attitude 'cocky' and got the review kicked. Twice. Took me forever to figure out why.)

I think the splash page at Mrs. Condit's is great, it's basically a scolding to the sniffy reader.Getting something like that here means going to some paid hosting and different software and importing or exporting or basically doing something with the site that I'd have to get some professional help to do. I sure don't know how to do it and if I make Pam do it then she's not spending time writing Mountain novels and we can't interrupt that, can we?

Some sites just have a warning about mature audiences and away they go, others have the whole splash thing. Since I park most of the text behind a cut anyway to keep the home page from being 4 miles long, there's a built in pause before you go clicking. That should give you time to look at the header, right? I can put a warning up in words to go with the two men at the top. Or instead of "read more" on the cut, I can make it be "read more if you're over 18." Or some combo.

Opinions please.

A Thousand Word Thursday Drabble from Crissy Munder

 

I saw this image on Cryselle's blog, and then received my email from A Word A Day. How could I resist? 

 Epeolatry by Chrissy Munder. A 100 word Thousand Word Thursday Drabble.

"Can’t you put the book down and study later? It’s been two whole days since we’ve seen each other." Plaintive words from the jean-clad figure sprawled across the bed, his darkly tanned skin glowing in contrast to the cool ivory of the comforter. 

"My test is tomorrow." Long fingers touch the worn bindings with a lingering caress; each stroke watched by envious amber eyes. "A little epeolatry wouldn’t hurt you, you know." 

"I can think of a few other things I’d like to worship." 

"Really?" The book closed with a decisive snap. 

 This time the chuckle was downright lascivious. 

"Really."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

To learn more about Chrissy and her work find, friend, or follow her on the web:
Website: http://www.chrissymunder.com
Blog: http://chrissymunder.livejournal.com/
Facebook: http://www.facebook.com/chrissymunder
Twitter: http://twitter.com/ChrissyMunder

Tommy's Story by AKM Miles

Title: Tommy’s Story
Author: AKM Miles
Publisher: MLR Press
Genre: contemporary
Length: 100 pages

It's going to be a real test of Tommy Marsh's strength for him to be able to let go of his past in order to have the relationship he wants with Daniel Anderson.

Tommy Marsh's life was good now. The last nine years had made up for the hell he'd gone through during his first twelve. After growing up at Scarcity Sanctuary, he'd become a counselor with extensive psychology training, working with abused children.

The thing that was missing from his life was a loving, passionate relationship with the man of his dreams, Daniel Anderson. Tommy was so afraid his past would interfere with the future he wanted. A traumatic event sets things in motion and he's forced to admit his feelings and face his fears. Will Tommy's new strength and Daniel's love be enough to get him through?

This was previously released but the story has been re-edited and expanded an additional 12k from the original.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~


Within ten pages I was snuffling -- with a very clear notion of who these people are and how much the world has kicked them around before they found each other, safety, and family, and now all that’s been rocked to its foundations. Soldier and Dillon foster children, giving them the security, stability, and love they need to heal from the atrocities in their pasts. Seventeen-year-old Gom was gay-bashed, and the whole group is worried for him and about what this will mean for their future.


Unfortunately, those sniffles didn’t last. I think I liked the idea of this story better than I liked the execution.

Tommy, who came to Soldier and Dillon's Scarcity Sanctuary when he was twelve, with a really terrible history of abuse, is now twenty-two, graduated from college, and secure enough in himself to be interested in Daniel, whom he knows through Social Services. Daniel’s interested, too, and in the course of solving Gom’s attack and placing another boy with Scarcity Sanctuary, they find they’ve both been nursing years of undeclared love for each other. Most of the relationship development apparently takes place in another book, if at all, because here it's all about whether or not they can manage a satisfying sexual relationship after the "I love you's" fly out early.

No one seems willing to believe that Tommy isn’t totally defined by only his terrible past. Instead of trusting him to have grown up, healed some, and be capable of exploring a relationship at his own pace, everyone, from Daniel to Soldier, keep bringing up his past, in dialog that sounds like therapy sessions. While it was absolutely right that Daniel and Tommy go slow, the bricks of dialog that went with it made their encounters seem very clinical.

“I’m not stopping until you tell me to, but I want this to be a good experience for you, not one that’s filled with confusion and anxiety. The   shivering is just your body responding to your nerves and excitement. At least, I think it’s excitement, if this is anything to go by,” Daniel said, sliding one hand down and caressing the hard ridge in the front of Tommy’s slacks.

There were other passages where it worked much better, such as when Tommy’s exploration of his own boundaries turned out very pleasantly for Daniel, and the dialog with it sounded much more natural. But the overall tone is much more like a therapeutic intervention than newly admitted love unfolding. One unfortunate effect of this particular love issue hit my gag reflex: a thirty-five year old man who’s never had a real relationship admits he’s been waiting for years for an abused kid to grow up and be interested back, and then calls him ‘baby.’ It doesn’t seem quite so unhealthy in the general context of the story, but when considered separately it’s creepy. It was probably supposed to be romantic and “only you for me,” an idea that crops up elsewhere.

Big sections of story, such as resolving Gom’s attack, also suffered from the bricks of dialog/bricks of action problem, and were handled so speedily that it was clear this was the less important issue. Tommy is there for Gom during his recovery, and is one of the better sections of the story. Unfortunately, the one female character in the story was a cardboard harpy whose vitriol level verges on the psychotic.

A note I found while collecting the blurb indicates that the story has had rewrites and expansion, which may explain the pacing problems and the varying smoothness of the different scenes.

So while I think the theme of not being defined by the past and growing into a relationship in spite of the hurdles that past provides is good and worthy, the execution is uneven and occasionally clunky. Some of the sections are considerably better written than others, and it’s too bad the entire piece didn’t maintain the promise of the opening. 3 marbles

Title: White Lightning
Author: Adrianna Dane
Publisher: Loose Id
Genre: Contemporary
Length: 118 pages

In Kentucky, where loyalty means everything, secrets and disloyalty can kill, Linc, the son of a mountain moonshiner, and Whit, the son of the local banker, had dreams of a future together far from the Kentucky hills. But one dangerously foolish act culminated in Linc's need to make a painful decision in order to protect his secret lover. Whit left, and the years have made Linc a hard, dangerous, and lonely man.

When Whit left for college, they’d made a promise to each other. Whit would have stood by Linc no matter what, but Linc shut him out. Years later, a successful New York entrepreneur, love still eluded Whit. Those very hills and the memory of his Kentucky lover called him back to find closure, one way or the other.

Whit couldn’t have picked a worse time to return to Kentucky as a murderous war was about to erupt. Moonshine and bad choices tore Whit and Linc apart a long time ago. Can Linc protect Whit, the man he still loved, from being drawn into the power struggle between moonshiners and drug lords, or would they both die when the smoke cleared, never having a chance to reclaim the love they thought lost?

Publisher's Note: This book contains explicit sexual situations, graphic language, and material that some readers may find objectionable: male/male sexual practices.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Linc and White managed to hide their relationship from their sharp-eyed families, who would have taken it ill that their boys cared for one another. Some old mountain customs are alive and well here in the hills: feudin’, moonshinin’, and disappearing the bodies into old mine shafts. “Revenooers” are hated as much as during Prohibition, and the stills remain profitable. Blood is still thicker than water, or should be.


Whit was always destined for a life outside the small mountain community where his father came to salvage the community bank. His dreams of Linc coming with him crashed and burned when Linc was intercepted with a load of illegal whiskey. Trapped in a situation by an unscrupulous Federal agent where Whit is in danger if Linc doesn’t cooperate fully, he has no choice but to break it off without a word.

Ten years later, Whit’s still dreaming of the mountain boy he lost. A man now, Linc’s ruled by outside forces, and now that a Mexican cartel has plans for the mountain, the danger is back, and from more sides than ever. Whit hasn’t a clue, nor does Linc enlighten him, though they are in each other’s arms and bed faster than you can spit.

The chemistry between the men is still hot, and they clearly want to be together, so Whit is completely confused as to why his lover won’t rejoin him. He finds out the hard way, in brisk action scenes, where more treachery than he can imagine is unveiled. I enjoyed the heat and the tension of the secrecy, which was still necessary for Linc to maintain, although very frustrating. It’s quite plain these two should be together; it just won’t be easy.

Linc had the bulk of the POV scenes—the big conflicts were mostly his, and the tone wasn’t overwhelmingly “mountain-y.” If anything, it could have used a little more down-home-ness to stay even; Linc sounded a lot like his Boston College-educated lover at times.

Where I wasn’t quite so engaged was a subplot involving the Federal agent and Linc in a non-law enforcement and rather dub-con relationship;  at least it was understated and mostly off-screen. It had some ramifications later between Whit and Linc. Your mileage may vary on this part, but I found it tacked on and unpleasant.

Once the tension resolved, this story could have reasonably ended, but there’s one last wrap-up chapter that’s a combination of a little too sweet to blend in and containing the tacked on element I didn’t care for: I would have been more content with the tale had it ended after Chapter 11, and the cost of the HEA sex would have been a small one to pay. The story had been very gripping until then, and the impact was unfortunately diluted: a sudden influx of “darlings” in the dialog broke the characterization, and more sex doesn’t always improve the story.

Still, I mostly enjoyed this book, and would recommend it with those few reservations. 3.75 marbles

My head aches from this

When I read a romance, I expect to find a plot. The main plot may be the relationship, or the relationship and the external plot may be equally important, but either way, it has to be there. "How are we gonna fuck?" is not plot. It may be PWP, but that's not what I was promised by the blurb.

When I read, I expect to find dialog that sounds like people might actually speak it. Yes, dialog in stories can't sound exactly like a conversation, you have to take out the ums, the pauses, the digressions into how the garden's looking and will there be rain, but it has to sound like real people are involved. If Siri can manage a better conversation, there's trouble. If the dialog sounds like a particularly dry textbook, there's real trouble.

When I read, I don't want to be intruded on by the author's life. I want to be in the story, I don't want to find myself thinking, oh, look, this must be a rewritten part when she switched publishers, it's so much better. I don't want to think, oops, must have been in a hurry to finish, she just wrapped 5 plot points in 3 paragraphs. I don't want to think about the author at all. I want to be engrossed in the story.

I've read some great things lately and I've read some disappointing things lately, not all of which got reviewed. The contrast is making my head hurt. That is all.

A Picture is Worth...

Herein lies a tale, don't you think?  (100-1000 words sent to CryselleC AT gmail DOT com and I'll post it).

A Thousand Word Thursday Story by Eden Winters

 

Take That!

The stately grand dame sat nestled between her neighbors, admiring how the sun reflected off her newly painted walls. Oh how grateful she'd been when her new caretakers (she refused to call them "owners") opted to restore her original beauty instead of resurfacing her exterior with cheap plastic siding. She preened, fluttering her new shutters lest her neighbors not notice.

The brick ranch house beside her sighed, rolling its front windows slightly. "Yeah, yeah, so they fixed you up. Big deal. I got a new sprinkler system!"

Delores sniffed, horrified by the mere thought of her lovely lawn dug up to install sprinklers. As if! Her caregivers lovingly watered her lawn by hand. And she had to admit that the new rose bushes set off her all-weather paint exquisitely.

She cast her gaze up and down the street, sorrow tugging at her heart. Of the old crowd, she alone stood proud and tall, once snidely referred to as a relic from another age, a moldy, crumbling ruin. And she had been, she thought sadly. Before "her boys" showed up.

"It's perfect!" one crowed the moment the realtor stepped out of earshot. Billy, the dreamer.

"Shhh… not so loud. It's been empty a while, maybe I can talk him down," the other replied. Eric, the sensible one.

"I don't care what it takes! I've loved this house since I was a little kid, and it breaks my heart how run down it's gotten."

Delores tried her best to hug the dear boy, whom she'd once watched ride his bicycle past her sidewalk every day, book bag slung over his shoulder.

Eric put his head close to Billy's. "If you want it that bad, it's yours." He smiled, melting the cold cockles of Delores' rusted-out furnace.

Then the two men… kissed! Oh! She swore her chipped and peeling paint flushed flame red. Two. Men. Kissed. Well, in her day Delores had been considered a bit before her time, and if they used their hands as skillfully on her rotting floorboards as they did on each other…well…

The next time she saw her boys they pulled up in a pickup truck, several other trucks pulling alongside, carrying friends with power tools. The group rewired her circuits, replaced weak boards, and scrubbed that embarrassing crud off her porcelain fixtures. Every weekend she looked forward to a passel of buff young men, lavishing her with attention. And when the weather warmed, they worked shirtless, in shorts. She couldn't help herself and occasionally goosed one of her handsome admirers with a well-aimed cabinet door.

Then, after months of work, she opened her doors once more and her boys moved in. How happy they'd all been for four wonderful years full of kisses, laughter, and moments when Delores confined her consciousness to the attic or basement to give the boys some privacy.

Lately, though, Eric had been spending more and more time at work, and Billy, worried soul that he was, often shared his woes with Delores.

"It's that slut, Christian, I know it is," he grumbled into the ruined tuna casserole that he'd lovingly kept heated, anticipating Eric's return.

When Eric came home, Delores couldn't help noticing that he reeked of cologne that didn't come from one of the bottles kept in her bathroom.

"Oh, you're home!" Billy exclaimed. "Dinner didn't wait very well, but I can fix you a sandwich. Are you hungry?"

"No, I'm tired," Eric said, ignoring Billy to trudge up the stairs. Delores didn't miss the tears in Billy's eyes. She gently opened a closet door, tenderly stroking his back. "There, there, dear," she whispered, which Billy probably misinterpreted as a creaking hinge.

And now Billy was away visiting his sister. An unfamiliar car pulled up outside, and a handsome man stepped out. Delores knew his kind, so like the prefab down the street who thought he was all that when he was only a cheap knockoff of a Greek revival.

The guy had the nerve to open her door without knocking! As if he owned the place! She struggled, but he still succeeded in wrenching the door open. "Cheap-assed old house," the guy muttered. "Once Eric gets me my bonus, I'll buy that condo I want downtown."

The guy stepped inside, grin becoming positively feral when he heard Eric whistling upstairs. He bounced up the stairs two at a time.

She hated to do it, for it was Billy's gift to her two Christmases ago, but Delores loosened the hall chandelier, ready to drop it on the idiot's head.

"What are you doing here?" Eric stepped out of the bathroom, towel wrapped around his waist. His voice wasn't welcoming.

"I came to see you, babe. I know Billy's gone and I thought, well…" He skated his fingers up Eric's bare arm.

Okay, if she aimed right, she could bounce those crystals off both their heads.

"I told you, I'm not interested. It's bad enough your fuck-ups mean I have to stay late at the office, but I'll not have you coming here, to my house."

The guy smiled, pouring on the charm. "After all we've been to each other?"

"What the hell are you talking about? I've never touched you!"

"Oh yeah?" The guy's grin turned vicious. "Then how do you explain these?" He held out a photo of himself and Eric in a compromising position.

Delores rocked on her foundations until taking a closer look. Something about those photos didn't look right. For one thing, the man in the photo's shoulder was bare. Her Eric had tattoos. Even a '30s Tudor like her recognized a fake when she saw it.

"That's not me, that's Photoshopped!" Eric shouted. "Get the hell out of my house, now! I'm a happily married man and have no intention of playing your little games!"

Delores loosened the chandelier a little more…

"Uh-huh. And what will your darling hubby say when he sees these?"

"Nothing! Because he trusts me! He'd never believe your lies."

"Uh-huh, and how did sweet cheeks like that scent I sprayed all over you?"

Delores wished she could agree with Eric's assessment, but she couldn't. Poor Billy. She felt bad about having wanted to whack Eric over the tuna casserole incident.

Eric's stern demeanor faded. "What do you want?"

"Simple. You hand over the Rogers portfolio to me, and give me full credit for landing the Edwards account."

"Wait a minute. Rogers is my most lucrative account, and I had to chase Edwards down and apologize after you blew the deal!"

Maternal instincts kicked in. A little sweet talking and a biddable squirrel caused the asshole's car to shriek in fear. "My car!" the guy exclaimed, darting out of the room and down the stairs.

Delores couldn't be sure, but she might, just might, have wiggled the top step loose.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Thank*snerk*you, Eden, for putting such great words to this picture!

Eden has a completely different but equally terrific story, and for my opinions on it, see the next post down. Diversion is one great read!

Drug dealers aren’t always on the streets; sometimes they sit in offices and boardrooms, selling merchandise in official-looking bottles instead of little cellophane bags...

When given a choice between eight more years in prison or using his “expertise” to assist the Southeastern Narcotics Bureau's Department of Diversion Prevention and Control, convicted drug trafficker Richmond “Lucky” Lucklighter takes the sentence with the illusion of freedom. Cynical and unwilling to admit he’s begun to care about his job, he counts the days until his debt is paid. His sole obstacle to getting his life back is the rookie he’s assigned to train before he leaves—a rookie who quotes pharmacy texts, hasn’t paid his dues, and has the obnoxious tendency of seeing the good in everyone, including the target of their investigation.

Former Marine Bo Schollenberger dreamed of becoming a pharmacist, but watched the dream turn into a nightmare of PTSD-fueled prescription drug abuse. Battling his demons daily, he wakes up every morning, wondering, “Will this be the day I give in?” To keep his license, he must now put his skills to use for a diversion control task force, deal with a crude partner with too much attitude and no brain-to-mouth filter, and take down a drug lord who reminds him of his favorite cooking show hostess.

The bad guys don’t stand a chance—if Lucky and Bo don’t strangle each other first...

Buy it here.

Diversion by Eden Winters

Title: Diversion
Author: Eden Winters
Cover Artist: Trace Edward Zaber
Publisher: Amber Allure

Genre: Contemporary
Length: 274 pages

Drug dealers aren't always on the streets; sometimes they sit in offices and board rooms, selling merchandise in official looking bottles instead of little cellophane bags.

When given a choice between eight more years in prison or using his "expertise" to assist the Southeastern Narcotics Bureau's Department of Diversion Prevention and Control, convicted drug trafficker Richmond "Lucky" Lucklighter takes the sentence with the illusion of freedom. Cynical and unwilling to admit he's begun to care about his job, he counts the days until his debt is paid. His sole obstacle to getting his life back is the rookie he's assigned to train before he leaves; a rookie who quotes pharmacy texts, hasn't paid his dues, and has the obnoxious tendency of seeing the good in everyone – including the target of their investigation.

Former Marine Bo Schollenberger dreamed of becoming a pharmacist and watched the dream turn into a nightmare of PTSD-fueled prescription drug abuse. Battling his demons daily, he wakes up every morning, wondering, "Will this be the day I give in?" To keep his license, he must now put his skills to use for a diversion control task force, deal with a crude partner with too much attitude and no brain-to-mouth filter, and take down a drug lord who reminds him of his favorite cooking show hostess.

The bad guys don't stand a chance -- if Lucky and Bo don't strangle each other first...

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Once again, Eden Winters has demonstrated why she’s one of my “must buy” authors: I swear Diversion is her best yet. With some plot points ripped straight out of the headlines and shaped deftly into a story that is uniquely hers, and vivid and offbeat characters that riff perfectly off each other, this was a book I had to read more than once.

Lucky’s got pride in a job well done, well hidden under the delight of “sticking it to the man” in a sanctioned fashion, but his cocky attitude and unrelenting banter are the prickles he uses to keep the world at a distance. Lucky is a giant pain in the ass in a banty-rooster body: he carves carrots into penises if asked to make the salad and drinks the wine straight from the bottle. He twists everything, and keeps the heat on Bo, who isn’t shy about handing the guff right back.

What starts out as straightforward lust coupled with “give the newbie as much grief as possible”—Lucky needles Bo endlessly with jabs at his vegetarianism, his education, and need to get laid—morphs over time into feelings that Lucky can’t identify clearly. His “give a shit” button has been broken for so long that he’s having trouble recognizing the symptoms of caring, either for Bo, or for his work.

The story is told completely from Lucky’s POV, which seems uncommon in a romance of this length, but we have no trouble knowing Bo, who has layers of pain and complexity that come out bit by bit. Lucky is also a man of layers: his private sorrows are exposed a fragment at a time, each tidbit building on what we know already, and explaining perfectly why he hates his job and yet is so good at it, and why he keeps the world at bay. That he can let Bo in, a millimeter at a time, is only slightly because of time healing wounds, but even more that Bo can know him, understand him, and accept all the horrible parts without judging. They fit together so beautifully by the end of the book, without losing an iota of the smart-assery. 

The external plot revolves around drug diversion, where prescription pharmaceuticals are removed from the legitimate supply chain and sold to abusers. This is a real and huge problem: Ms. Winters touches on several ways it can be done, from out and out hijacking a truck to real doctors writing real prescriptions for imaginary ailments and enormous, ‘unsuitable for good medical practice’ quantities. She keeps up a fast pace, keeping me highly interested, a bit horrified, and terrified that somehow Bo and Lucky’s sting operation would go wrong.

Lucky and Bo are one the side of the angels now, but Lucky’s criminal past is what makes him so useful  to the fictional agency he works for: the fox is guarding the henhouse because he knows all the ways in and out, but he’s wearing a collar. His descent into crime unrolls slowly as flashbacks, contrasting with his current life, which he’d like to escape as completely as he’d like to escape his past. Bo’s story is a little more conventional, his private demons encouraging him to take solace in the temptations that surround him at work. Neither is in the enforcement end of the pharmaceutical industry because they wanted or planned it: all they can do is make the most of it. (And each other, Lucky would add.)

The secondary characters such as Walter and Dr. Ryerson are fully fleshed and vivid. The villain of the piece is three dimensional—one can see both the desperation that created the situation and the ruthlessness that exploits it. Even a character that never gets face time has a realness to him through Lucky’s pranks, smarting off, and inner dialog.

The ending brought lumps to my throat, and all I can say is I needed that epilog! 

Very highly recommended: this book works on a lot of levels, and, oh yeah, Bo and Lucky sizzle together. Two words: assless chaps. 5 Marbles

Buy here.

A Thousand Word Thursday Excerpt from JL Merrow

JL Merrow says: The picture reminded me instantly of a scene in Wight Mischief – it’s set in a ruined castle, not a house, so the stairs are stone, not wood, which ups the ouch factor nicely!

Researching this scene was kind of fun, in a schadenfreude sort of way. While I’m grateful for the resource, I’m even more thankful I don’t have the kind of friends who think it’s hilarious to set me up to trip downstairs, and then upload the video to YouTube!

Will, our hero, has gone to visit Carisbrooke Castle with his friend-with-benefits Baz, who claims to be looking for ghosts. But that’s not all he’s trying to uncover—and someone is determined to keep things hidden....

***

“Come on, I’ve seen enough, haven’t you?” Baz muttered and pushed past Will to head out into the sunlight.

Will followed, blinking. “Going up to the keep?” he asked.

Baz glared at the twelfth century stronghold, built on a large mound of earth, as if Will had just suggested he run up Mount Everest. “The temperature’s in the nineties, there’s about a hundred steps up there, and for what? No, don’t tell me—the air’s really fresh up there.”

Will grinned. “The view? The exercise?”

Baz shuddered dramatically. “That’s your department, not mine. I’ll be in the nice, cool well-house, trying to get a glimpse of Moaning Myrtle.”


“Yeah, well, don’t lean in too far or you might end up joining her!” Will called cheerfully, and started to bound up the steps. There were only seventy-one, he found—but it seemed Baz wasn’t the only one put off. Granted, they were pretty steep steps. There was a handrail to help the visitor for the bottom two-thirds, but the rest of the staircase was bounded by a brick wall.

The keep was practically deserted, only a couple of other people milling around. Will leaned on the walls, looking out over the ramparts. You could see a long way in the clear, island air—Will gazed over treetops at the little village of Carisbrooke, and beyond to Parkhurst Forest. Turning back to look across the castle in the other direction, Will realised the other visitors had disappeared, and he wandered over to the far wall of the keep, almost tripping over another well. Unlike the one in the courtyard, which had a whole building over it, this one was just a hole in the ground, fortunately covered with a heavy iron grate. Will had heard that you could see the stars in broad daylight from the bottom of a well, and although he’d never been sure he believed it, he didn’t fancy testing the theory in person.

He rounded the walls, looking out over farmland for as far as the eye could see. You’d be able to spot invading hordes miles off, which he supposed was pretty much the point of building a castle here. Will wondered what it must have been like, to be holed up in here with nowhere to go, just watching an army swarm over the fields toward you. It wasn’t like they could radio for reinforcements in those days, either—in fact, how on earth did they get word out at all, once they were surrounded? Odd to think of people fighting and dying here, while friends who might have helped them stayed in blissful ignorance of anything going on at all. Despite the heat, Will shivered again.

Vaguely aware that he no longer had the place to himself, Will reluctantly decided he probably ought to go in search of Baz. He was probably getting bored by now. Unless, of course, he’d actually found his ghost. Will grinned at the thought of Baz telling her she was just a figment of his imagination. He put a foot on the top step—and suddenly felt a huge thump between his shoulder blades.

Everything lurched, and the steps came toward him in slow motion. Will realised, almost calmly, that he was falling. He hit the steps first with his left shoulder, the force knocking all the breath out of him. Bugger. The world spun. He tumbled down and down, slamming into hard stone again and again. Walls? Stairs? He couldn’t tell. Someone screamed.

It was the handrail that saved him. So close. Will grabbed—and went right over it. He landed on the grassy slope beyond. Nearly tumbled again, but managed to stop himself with a thrown-out arm that made him gasp in pain.

He lay on his back, half-stunned. A face appeared in his field of vision. “Are you all right?” It was a young girl, aged about ten by the look of her. The sun shone through her wavy blonde hair, making it look like a halo. Right now, Will could have done without the angel reference.

“Um,” Will said, not sure he quite knew the answer to her question. He probably ought to try and sit up, reassure her, but right now horizontal seemed…safer.

Her thumb crept to her mouth. Maybe not ten. Maybe younger. “Did you fall down the stairs?”

That was an easier one. “Yeah.” Then Will frowned. Had he fallen? Or did somebody push him? He’d felt… Hadn’t he?

***

Wight Mischief:

A stranger could light up his world...or drive him deeper into darkness.

Will Golding needs a break from his usual routine, and he’s been looking forward to a holiday helping Baz, his friend-with-benefits, research a book about Isle of Wight ghosts. When an evening beach walk turns into a startling encounter with Marcus Devereux, Will can’t get his mind off the notoriously reclusive writer’s pale, perfect, naked body. And any interest in ghostly legends takes a back seat to the haunting secrets lying in Marcus’s past.

Marcus, painfully aware of his appearance, is accustomed to keeping to himself. But the memory of tall, athletic Will standing on the beach draws him out from behind defenses he’s maintained since age fourteen, when his parents were murdered. While his heart is hungry for human contact, though, his longtime guardian warns him that talking to anyone—particularly a journalist like Baz—is as dangerous as a day in the sun.

As Baz gets closer to the truth, the only thing adding up is the sizzling attraction between Will and Marcus. And it’s becoming increasingly clear that someone wants to let sleeping secrets lie…or Will and Baz could end up added to the island’s ghostly population.
________________________________________
Product Warnings :Contains perilous cliffs, elusive might-be ghosts, a secret tunnel, and skinny-dipping by moonlight.

Find it here.

Maroon: Donal agus Jimmy by PD Singer

Maroon: Donald agus Jimmy by P.D. Singer
Publisher: Torquere Press
Genre: Erotic Historical Romance
Length: 73 pages


The best jobs in 1911 Belfast are in the shipyards, but Donal Gallagher's pay packet at Harland and Wolff doesn't stretch far enough. He needs to find someone to share his rented room; fellow ship-builder Jimmy Healy's bright smile and need for lodgings inspire Donal to offer. But how will he sleep, lying scant feet away from Jimmy? It seems Jimmy's a restless sleeper, too, lying so near to Donal...

In a volatile political climate, building marine boilers and armed insurrection are strangely connected. Jimmy faces an uneasy choice: flee to America or risk turning gunrunner for Home Rule activists. He thinks he's found the perfect answer to keep himself and his Donal safe, but shoveling coal on a luxury liner is an invitation to fate.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The hundredth anniversary of the Titanic’s sinking is nearly here, making me wish for fiction about it that doesn’t involve Jack or Rose. PD Singer has provided that with Maroon: Donal agus Jimmy, a novella length story that follows men who built and sailed her rather than the glamorous passengers and officers. Working men love and dream too.


Donal, the problem solver, flies into action once he’s found, or been shown, what needs to be fixed -- he’ll solve his family’s financial crisis, even at the cost of sorely needed privacy. What seems like a sacrifice at first, and then the torment of closeness that can never become more, turns into the great joy of Jimmy. Donal’s never had a lover before, and when Jimmy makes it possible to express their interest, we are treated to a sweet, tender love story. The two of them must invent everything as if it’s new just for them, and keep it all hidden, because the world isn’t ready to be happy for them.

Jimmy, the visionary, sees what could be, both good and evil, and acts to make one happen or mitigate the other. He must see enough small clues to risk finding a way to let Donal know of his interest, and oh, how good life becomes for them. But he also sees the evil that will come from the growing muttering for Home Rule, and how it could touch him and his Donal.

His job in the boiler works makes him a likely candidate for passing along contraband, which Jimmy sees as a real possibility. “If they offer threat to you….I will do anything they want.” A good man and non-partisan, he looks for, and finds, a way out.

This is 1912, and the Pride of Belfast, which they’ve helped to build, is the next ship Jimmy can sail in to see what lies for them in “Amerikay”, and that ship’s other name is the Titanic. Though we can see it coming, the author slides that in so delicately that the reveal comes as a heart-wrench. Jimmy’s worked so hard to get aboard that ship, and they don’t know. I knew it was coming and I still cried.

The period detail is woven seamlessly into life in early twentieth century Belfast, with gas lights and newly electrified trams, a pint at the pub and a job at the shipyard. With men who want to change their world, and our couple, who doesn’t want to be crushed under the change.

And I cried again at the end, because it’s happy after all. 5 Marbles

A Picture is Worth...

That's gonna leave a mark. Tell us about it, in 100 to 1000 words, and I'll post covers, links and blurbs for you, and if another picture inspires you, great, just let me know which it is at CryselleC At gmail DOT com. Meanwhile, the rest of us will sit here and wince.

A Thousand Word Excerpt from P.D. Singer

*************************
From The Rare Event

“Ricky, who do you think is going to be hurt worst if this trade goes bad?” Jon had used his “speaking to a lover” voice without realizing it until the last word left his lips.

“Edgar.” Ricky snorted. “He takes it right in his fat ass. With the rest of the investors, but him worst.”

“He loses money. What do you lose?” If Ricky would think, Jon would use his persuasion any way he could—his voice remained soft.

Ricky cut himself short. “My—”

“Your previously accrued bonuses that are still invested here, your job, your prospects of a job in finance, because he’s vindictive. He’ll make sure the closest you end up to big money again is as the driver of an armored car.” Compared to all those things, small matters like the fortunes and security of his colleagues didn’t bear mentioning, so Jon didn’t. “Lose any noticeable chunk of ten million borrowed dollars, and he’ll find a way of making you pay it back personally.”

“You’ve been keeping score?” One side of Ricky’s mouth twisted back.

“I know how much capital you control and what you’ve bought—I can do the math.” He could, too, but peeking was faster.

“Assuming that you’re right and I’m wrong, which everyone is, even though I’m not, how would you have me fix this?”

“Best case would be that you bought married puts when you bought the stock, but since you didn’t—”

“Back to that old monogamy thing again, huh?” Ricky interrupted.

“You know what that is!” Jon snapped. Ricky was too experienced a trader not to buy the stock at the same time as the options. Jon wouldn’t let him turn the subject.

“Yes, I know, but what I also know is that the stock would have to rise another couple of bucks before I’m in the black after I buy that.” Ricky voiced a more valid objection.

 “Better than losing enough to buy a whole street of those houses Lasker builds,” Jon countered, “which is what you’ll do since you’ve married the position. You can buy the puts now, for some price that’s low enough to not crimp your profits, since you think a fall to that level is out of the question, or you could put a stop-loss order on, which will cost you a flat fee.”

“And even if it’s triggered, it may still be too late.” Ricky slid closer to Jon, who had no room to scoot away, trapped as he was against the desk.

“So buy the options. But do something.”

Ricky was too close now, and came to his feet, leaning on the arms of Jon’s chair, close enough to breathe into his ear. “I’ll buy the options if you’ll make mad passionate love to me on the couch right now.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Hedge fund trader Ricky Santeramo has it all: money, looks, and fellow trader Jonathan Hogenboom. The two couldn't be more different: Jon is from old money, while Ricky clawed his way out of blue-collar New Jersey. Jon hedges his positions; Ricky goes for broke. Jon likes opera and the Yankees; Ricky prefers clubbing. Jon drinks wine with dinner; Ricky throws back a beer. Jon wants monogamy… but Ricky likes variety. 

Bankrupt airlines are facing strikes, the housing market is starting to crumble, and Jon can’t wait any longer for Ricky to commit. One last night alone and one last risky trade make Jon say, “Enough.” Then Jon’s old friend Davis comes to New York City, ready for baseball and forever. The whole world is chaos, but there are fortunes to be made—or lost—and hearts to be broken—or won.

Faced with losing it all, Ricky must make the savviest trades of his life and pray for a rare event. His portfolio and Jon's love are on the line.

Find it at Dreamspinner, at Amazon, and All Romance eBooks.

Find PD at her blog/website, playing word games, grading scammers and spammers, and talking about books. http://pdsinger.com

************************************

Hellagood book here, just sayin'. Cryselle

Hunting for Clay by N.J. Nielsen

Title: Hunting for Clay
Author: N.J. Nielsen
Publisher: MLR Press
Length: 24,000 words


Two years have passed since Clay and Hunter met on that fateful morning in Tello’s Diner. Getting passed the fact Clay was stalking Marlowe was the easy part. Clay Montgomery’s life changed for the better the day he found the man who was meant to be the other half of him. Hunter understood him well, and knew how to give him exactly what he needs to be happy. Hunter Weldon knows what he wants, and just how to get it. For two years he has loved the man in his arms and now it was time to up the ante.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Hunting for Clay follows on from another work which I have not read, although there is enough backstory included here that I didn’t feel lost. Two established couples, Hunter and Clay, who are the primary couple of this story, share a house with Marlowe and Angelo. They’re all friends now, and have a pleasant, easy-going friendship.

Two of the men’s families have serious issues with their gayness, which unfortunately requires much sneaking around for them to spend any time with their younger brothers. Both younger brothers are gay as well, which complicates things further. The subtext of the story is what makes a family? and the efforts everyone makes to spend time with the younger brothers is a large part of the story.


Unfortunately, the theme tends to wander through several subplots that meander through in little snippets, but 80 pages/24K words isn’t enough to explore all of them, so none gets examined in any detail. This gives a “slice of life” feel to the story rather than a coherent plot arc. A large number of secondary characters sail in and out, again, too many to spend any real development on in this length. The overall effect is a series of mostly unconnected events, although the arc becomes more evident in retrospect. But no sooner does one start reading a bit of one character’s actions than someone else waltzes in to take attention.

The style of the writing was making me uncomfortable in a way that took a while to identify: the language is very simple and without contractions in the dialog. This may suit other readers better than it suited me, but I felt like I was reading something meant for middle grades on style, but for adults on content.

Hunter reached down and gave the plug in his arse a twist and relished in the way Clay moaned. “I will be back in a second to help you, love.”

The contrast was jarring, and was not improved with numerous proofing errors, enough to become intrusive. I can cope better with constant endearments if the rest is done correctly.

The Aussie slang was fun, I now know what “full as a goog” means, and it helped to give a nice sense of place as well as characterization. (A goog is an egg, and the saying implies you've eaten or drunk too much.)

The element of BDSM-lite didn’t feel consistent, because while Hunter and Clay trotted out the toys, Hunter “couldn’t live with himself if he ever hurt Clay,” which was said in the context of getting out the nipple clamps and ball gag.

The ending is very happy – it all comes together in one huge celebration that resolves absolutely everything in the story, from the big family issues to the relationship. It was cute but hasty, and involved much handwaving on some major problems.

The story was certainly ambitious in what it was attempting, but with a main couple, two secondary couples and some strays looking like they’d get paired off, and some absolutely enormous issues, all in 80 pages, this is a sweet rush-through with little depth. 2 Marbles

A Thousand Word Thursday Story from Tam Ames

Promotion Possibilities

“Really, Kyle, if you want to make Vice-President, I think you know what you have to do.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about, Mr. Leslie.”

“Come now, Kyle. I think you know very well. We talked about his just last week. At the staff party.”

“But, but, that was, it was… It was just a joke.”

“Mmm. A joke. You believe I thought you were joking? When you said you’d give your left nut for a promotion?”


“Well, yeah, of course.” Kyle swallowed hard and tipped his head down avoiding Mr. Leslie’s eyes.

“You should know better by now, Kyle. I don’t joke.” When Kyle peeked up he would have sworn he saw a glimmer of humor in the man’s eyes, but he said he didn’t joke.

“You should know, that as boss, I play things straight.”

Kyle’s lips twitched, but he cleared his throat. “Um, well, what exactly do you expect?”

“Oh, um,” Mr. Leslie paused and Kyle frowned slightly and tipped his head. Mr. Leslie stood up from where he had been leaning over Kyle in the leather office chair. “I want you to, um, well…”

Mr. Leslie stood humming and hawing and Kyle rolled his eyes. “Do you expect me to service you sexually?” His voice held a slight air of exasperation.

“Yes! Yes, that’s it.” Mr. Leslie’s eyes brightened. “I think you should get on your knees and service me.”

Kyle sighed and shook his head slightly. “And what will you do if I don’t.”
“Well, I’ll, I’ll fire you. Yeah. That.”

Another eye roll and a sigh slipped out of Kyle. “Fine. I need my job; I have a family to feed.”

“Yeah, that’s the spirit, Kyle, way to take one for the team.”

“Oh my God.” Kyle groaned. “Okay, you have to uh, move back.”

Mr. Leslie took a step back and there was a sudden hiss and a screech. “Jesus Christ, Tippy, move the fuck out of the way if you don’t want me to step on you.” The cat streaked from the room.

Kyle covered his face with his hands, his shoulders shaking. Finally he looked up with a grin. “You totally suck at this, you know.”

The man’s shoulder sagged. “I told you it was stupid. I feel like a dork, and this tie is gross.” He pulled irritably at the unfamiliar fabric around his neck.

Kyle chuckled, and reached out and hooked his fingers in the belt loops on Simon’s pants, well, Kyle’s pants. Simon would rather spend his money on his bike than on a suit. Kyle tugged him closer. “Come here, baby.” He wrapped his arms around Simon’s hips and nuzzled his face into his stomach. Simon loosely wrapped his arms around his shoulders.

“You tried. I appreciate it.”

He looked up to see Simon’s bottom lip sticking out. “Next time let me be the naughty bike messenger, and you can be the customer with no way to pay for the delivery.” Simon reached up and tugged at the tie again. “At least I don’t have to wear this damn thing.”

“You look hot. But fine, next time you can wear the bike shorts.” That wasn’t such a bad concept. Those shorts looked awesome on Simon.

Tippy was back, rubbing up against Simon’s leg. Oh how quickly they forget. Simon gave the cat a gentle nudge with his foot. “And he’s getting locked in the bathroom. What a buzzkill.”

Kyle looked up and Simon and winked. “Well, I still need my job, Mr. Leslie.” He batted his eyelashes like a teenage girl.

“Well, I still need a blow job, so I think we’re even. Hop to it, Mr. Future-Vice-Present.”

“Yes, boss.” Kyle grabbed the zipper pull with his teeth and heard Simon groan. Three years and they were still having fun. Breaking in the new desk chair was great. Kyle thought they just might need a new kitchen table soon. That had definite possibilities.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Oh, jeez, Tam's done it again! For more of her humor, find the freebies at her blog
and a couple of shorts at Torquere. She's usually reading something m/m good and talking about it at Brief Encounters.

Goodreads Giveaways

Some authors are giving away hard copies of their books! Click on the cover to go to Goodreads to enter. The Rare Event ends in less than 2 days, so if you're interested, don't wait. The others end in a few days to a few weeks. (I have my copy of Diversion already, and it's really good.)

A Picture is Worth...

Shouldn't these guys be working? An author with an explanation should send 100-1000 of ficlet or excerpt to CryselleC AT gmail DOT com, with links covers and news, and I"ll post it here.  Meanwhile, we'll be drooling.

The Dragon Tamer by Ana Bosch

Title: The Dragon Tamer
Author: Ana Bosch
Cover Artist: Shobana Appavu
Publisher: Dreamspinner Press
Genre: fantasy, bitterweet
Length: 43 pages



Drake, a dragon master of the tamer clan, was barely a man himself when he saved the life of a youth burning with fever. Aedan, a fire mage, has dragon blood mingled with his own, creating such a tempestuous and volatile personality that it can literally burn him from the inside. Though Drake was able to calm the tumult enough to give Aedan a few years of peace, he knew that as the boy came of age, the fire in him would ignite once more.

When, years later, the effects of his fiery impulses force Aedan from the mage clan, his path crosses Drake’s again. Once more taming Aedan with a connection that joins them body and soul, Drake promises to protect Aedan forever—but he fears the day when “forever” might come to an end.

A Bittersweet Dreams title: It's an unfortunate truth: love doesn't always conquer all. Regardless of its strength, sometimes fate intervenes, tragedy strikes, or forces conspire against it. These stories of romance do not offer a traditional happy ending, but the strong and enduring love will still touch your heart and maybe move you to tears.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Let me tell you a story about the most powerful, most fearsome dragon I’ve ever tamed.”

This short, bittersweet tale starts out as if we are sitting at the storyteller’s knee. The narrator, Drake, belongs to the tamers, one of several warring clans, and he specializes in dragons. He encounters Aedan as a youth, burning up from the volatility of his dragon heritage; his father had bonded with a dragon, (this is in no way kinky, just non-Mendelian), and had a child with a fire mage, a dangerous combination. His dragon attributes manifest in his temperament, not as shapeshifting.


Aedan grows older and has a mage lover – both are ambitious and long to lead the mage clan, which brings them into armed conflict after a series of double crosses. Aedan ends up in Drake’s care again, and while they become lovers, safety is never assured, because Aedan is a wanted man in his home clan.

The story’s structure starts in first person, as Drake begins to tell his the story, but flips into a distant third person, at times omniscient view point, as we hear parts of the story that Drake could not have witnessed. POV isn’t entirely stable through this section, and it’s a relief to drop back into first person when Aedan is once again with Drake and his clan. The flipping is somewhat disorienting.

It’s not entirely stable that this is a tale of Drake’s personal pain, he doesn’t interject his thoughts or feelings into the part of the story that he must have known from Aedan’s tales, which puts considerable distance into the story. Still, the epic of mage against mage has to be part of the region’s history, although parts are very personal indeed.

So while there is some unclarity in the purpose of this tale and the world building is a bit infodumpish at the beginning, there is both an epic of love gone wrong and a new love found, a love and a sense of honor great enough to merit a great sacrifice. It’s worth a sniffle at the end.

The cover art is extraordinary even by Dreamspinner standards, very fitting to the story. 3 marbles