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In honor of Mother's Day here in the US this coming Sunday, I wanted to showcase stories with strong, influential mother figures. I say "mother figures" because it isn't always a mom, sometimes it isn't even family, sometimes it can be a stranger who steps up and fills in. Some aren't necessarily even a lengthy factor in the story, perhaps it's even just one chapter, or a flashback, etc. The mother figure has however, left a lasting impression on the characters, the story, and the reader. For Mother's Day 2024, along with great motherly figures later in the week I wanted to showcase Mothers-from-Hell stories too, they may not all be from-Hell bad but bad enough not to be good, in my opinion😉. I find bad parental figures help shape the characters, intentionally or not, make them stronger and in doing so make the story even more brilliant. In some cases the bad mother figure may have no contact with MC but secondary but they left the same impression on the story. If you have any recommendations for bad motherly figures in the LGBTQIA genre, be sure and comment below or on the social media post that may have brought you here. The purchase links below are current as of the original posting but if they don't work be sure to check the authors' websites for up-to-date information.
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The World as He Sees It by AM Arthur
Summary:
Perspectives #2
Love knows no limits…but fear could keep them from seeing it.
Gabe lives a double life. As Gabriel Henson, he works multiple jobs to support his remorseless, alcoholic mother. As Tony Ryder, he does internet porn for extra cash and regular safe sex without complications. But when he encounters a scared young man freaking out in a night club, he’s compelled to reach out. Ever since then, the memory of that young man has haunted him.
Tristan Lavalle lives his life thirty minutes at a time. After a traumatic brain injury three years ago, he gets through his day recording his life in spiral notebooks and sticky note reminders. A month after Tristan’s embarrassingly public meltdown, another chance meeting with Gabe sparks a warm, emotionally fulfilling email relationship. Both men crave more, but fear of the next step stands between them.
And then Tristan gets the opportunity to take part in a clinical trial that could improve his memory—if the side effects don’t kill him. But for Tristan, the possibility of a real life with Gabe is worth any risk…
Note: This book was previously published by Samhain Publishing. No significant changes have been made to this edition. Please read with tissues handy.
Original Review November 2015:
I fell in love with Tristan when he was introduced in The Truth as He Knows It and it grew even deeper with every page. Of course, Gabe captured my heart too in book one when he worked with Shane so when they met it was off the charts anticipation. AM Arthur did not disappoint. Tristan and Gabe's chemistry on the verge of short circuiting my Kindle. My grandmother had some short term memory issues after her stroke and my mom has a few memory gaps from her health issues but neither compared to what Tristan lives with so even though I had an inkling of what was to come my heart still broke when he didn't remember Gabe or even Shane but the connection was still there. I don't think I can say much else without giving away anything so I'll just say that as much as I loved Noel and Shane's story in book one Gabe and Tristan far surpassed anything I expected.
Summary:
Tidal #1
A love worth the wait.
Carter Hamilton and Riley Porter-Wright room together as Harvard undergraduates. An immediate friendship forms, but as the years pass it deepens into something neither man understands. As attraction simmers under the surface, lines begin to blur. When they move back to Manhattan, they gradually slip into the lives their families have envisioned for them.
Both men marry, but in time, Riley realizes he’s ended up in a passionless relationship like his parents’ while his career takes center stage. Although he loves his wife, Carter misses the emotional and physical connection he shared with Riley.
The weight of Riley’s feelings and his growing discontentment with his life eventually push him to tell Carter the truth about how he feels. Shocked and unable to face his own feelings, Carter rejects Riley.
As each man comes to terms with the lies they’ve told themselves, each other and the people around them, they find their lives changing in ways they never imagined. They soon discover that the truths they’ve been longing to tell shake the foundations of their friendship.
💔💫💞Reader Advisory: This book contains polyamory and infidelity, expressions of homophobia by multiple secondary characters, divorce, scenes of M/F/M intimacy, references to parental neglect, disownment, one brief scene involving a physical altercation.💞💫💔
Carter Hamilton and Riley Porter-Wright room together as Harvard undergraduates. An immediate friendship forms, but as the years pass it deepens into something neither man understands. As attraction simmers under the surface, lines begin to blur. When they move back to Manhattan, they gradually slip into the lives their families have envisioned for them.
Both men marry, but in time, Riley realizes he’s ended up in a passionless relationship like his parents’ while his career takes center stage. Although he loves his wife, Carter misses the emotional and physical connection he shared with Riley.
The weight of Riley’s feelings and his growing discontentment with his life eventually push him to tell Carter the truth about how he feels. Shocked and unable to face his own feelings, Carter rejects Riley.
As each man comes to terms with the lies they’ve told themselves, each other and the people around them, they find their lives changing in ways they never imagined. They soon discover that the truths they’ve been longing to tell shake the foundations of their friendship.
💔💫💞Reader Advisory: This book contains polyamory and infidelity, expressions of homophobia by multiple secondary characters, divorce, scenes of M/F/M intimacy, references to parental neglect, disownment, one brief scene involving a physical altercation.💞💫💔
I have been a fan of Brigham Vaughn for a few years now and she has never let me down. K Evan Cole is a new author to me that is definitely on her way up. Put the two together and we are blessed with an amazing journey of friendship, lust, hesitation, fear, and heart. After only a couple of chapters, I knew that if I was smart I would put Wake aside until the second book was released so I wouldn't be tortured with waiting but I was also already sucked in and couldn't even begin to contemplate the idea of putting it aside, so I continued on and simply put - I LOVED IT!! I can't imagine not having read it even with the possibility of a lengthy wait to finish Carter & Riley's journey of friendship & freedom to be themselves.
Now, as for the boys, I love them both and I feel for them at the turmoil they both are facing trying to come to terms with who they are. Having said that, Carter definitely tries my patience more than once, talk about a character that needs a good shaking or a sharp whack to the back of the head but I love him anyway. That's about the extent of any spoiler hints you are going to get out of me but I will add that Wake will keep you hooked from beginning to end, it was pure torture when I had to put my kindle aside when pesky daily tasks such as work, eating, and sleep reared their ugly head.
As a straight woman, it's easy for me to pass judgement and say to Carter and Riley, "just admit it, be yourself" but I cannot even begin to fathom what either are facing in the society they live in so I can't stress enough to go in reading Carter and Riley's journey with an open mind and full heart. You just might walk away, not only having experienced a very entertaining heart-warming tale of friendship but you might also learn something about yourself along the way.
As I started with, Brigham Vaughn has never let me down and after Wake I can safely say I'll be saying the same about K Evan Coles in a couple years down the road.
RATING:
Holiday Surprise #4
Wes’s life may not be perfect, but he works hard to make it as good as he can.
Wes will never be his parents’ ideal son, and he knows it. Worse is that they retaliate against him when their attempts to mold him into what they want fail. Still, he carves out what happiness he can while trying to stay within the lines. He’s made himself a career as a dance instructor, and loves teaching kids. Unfortunately, it all threatens to come crashing down when the owner of the dance studio announces its closure. With no open spaces at other dance studios Wes decides to open his own, but he knows his parents will be vehemently against it.
José has never gotten over his high school boyfriend, but how can he ask forgiveness after failing him?
José has a good life. He’s a successful mortgage broker with plenty of friends and a loving family. But he has one major regret: not being able to protect his high school boyfriend, Wes, from his terrible parents. If he’d done things differently, maybe the omega would have had a different life. However, when he hears that Wes has a new dream on the line he vows to do what it takes to make the man he loves happy.
But will it be enough this time?
Lucky Dance Date is a 18K word, non-shifter, M/M, mpreg, omegaverse romance
Content note: Narcissistic and racist parents play a role in this book. Therefore it may not be suitable for readers sensitive to those topics.
Original Review March 2024:
I don't know how Wes isn't more of a basket case after everything his parents put him through. I have such an amazing relationship with my parents it's hard for me to wrap my head around people like Wes' folks but it also makes me want to crush the life out him with such a ginormous Mama Bear Hug. There is just no way you can't cheer for Wes and José to get their HEA, no real spoiler saying they will get there eventually because the story is in the journey and that journey you will have to read for yourself to learn and appreciate the paths that get them there.
With each mpreg I read I fall even deeper in love with the genre, my experience in variety of authors within the genre is still limited but I've loved every Lacey Daize story I've read. Again I was looking for a holiday theme story, this time St. Patty's Day, so another in-middle-of-series read but with the exceptions of a few friends from earlier entries, Lucky Dance Date is a complete standalone in the author's Holiday Surprise series.
I love the blend of drama, mpreg, love, friendship, second chances, and of course how sometimes found families can be all the family you need. Wes and José's journey in Lucky Dance Date is definitely a winning gem that will warm your heart.
Slay Ride by Davidson King
Summary:
Saint Brothers #1
Christmas is a time for joy, family, and friends to gather around the tree and fill their hearts with love. Unfortunately, there are some people who don’t deserve happiness during the holidays.
Mason keeps to himself. His best friend, JJ, is the only one he chooses to be close to, plus his job keeps him busy. Excitement isn’t something he needs or wants in his life. One night, that all changes when he’s cornered, and his life is threatened. His saviors? Well, they turn out to be just as dangerous, and the mysteries surrounding them soon flip Mason’s world upside down.
Gabe and his brothers spend their lives making sure those who deserve death get what’s coming to them. The one person they never see coming is Mason. What for them should have been a simple rescue turns into even more chaos than they ever thought possible.
Enter the Saint brothers’ dark and twisted world on a slay ride that will have you on the edge of your seat, swooning for the bad boys, and trying to survive the fall of revenge.
**This was originally a short story that was part of the Christmas Anthology O Deadly Night Vol 1. It has since been expanded to a full-length novel. No Cliffhanger!
Original Review October Book of the Month 2023:
How is it possible that someone who can create such dark, twisted, and ethically ambiguous characters so expertly is walking around free and innocent in the world without creating such havoc and mayhem in their wake? Just kidding. Davidson King, though innocent may be a bit of a stretch in certain areas😉😉, obviously is a woman of two minds: 1. the lovely heartwarming person so many know and call friend and 2. the twisted, evil storyteller who loves to put her characters and readers through an emotional rollercoaster.
And HOLY HANNAH BATMAN! what a holiday rollercoaster Slay Ride is.
I say "holiday" because the story takes place as Christmas nears and for me even having just one scene makes a story or film a holiday entertaining good time. Of course, it doesn't hurt that as much as I love the Hallmark-y feel good holiday creations, a dark and twisted holiday tale of mayhem is right up my alley.
I don't do spoilers so I won't touch on particulars but I will say I thought Slay Ride had a little more, well not "off page" violence but the scenes of revenge and vengeance were perhaps not as descriptive as some of King's other works. That's not to say she glossed over anything because there is no doubts as to what is happening/happened to the characters, what drives the Saint brothers to do what they do. Personally, I think there are times when a story is better when certain elements are left to the reader to fill in with their mind's eye, especially when there is a question of ethics, do two wrongs make a right? For this reader, the need for justice and closure is definitely warranted and welcomed.
*Shhhh, don't tell anyone but between us, I would have loved to see certain characters suffer a bit more.*😉😉
As for the mains, Mason and Gabe? What a lovely duo they make. Sometimes we need that one special person to make everything fall into place, to wake up one's heart, to provide the missing puzzle piece. That is exactly what Gabe and Mason are to each other. There is no real "cute meet" for the pair, awkwardly flirtatious perhaps but not really cute and what happens next is most definitely not cute by any stretch of the imagination but it does set everything and everyone on a collision course that changes all involved.
Slay Ride is a dark and dangerous tale of revenge and vengeance but it's also a tale of friendship, family(blood and found), love, and loads of heart. Another great example of pure storytelling that may not be for the feint of heart but I for one am already looking forward to the next installment of the Saint Brothers, hopefully Shep and JJ's journey but whichever brother decides to clue Davidson King in on their path I'll be first in line to read.
The Teacher & the Soldier by RJ Scott
Summary:
Ellery Mountain #2
How can Daniel convince the man he loves, to stay with him in Ellery?
Luke Fitzgerald left Ellery Mountain for college and vowed never to return, but with his father murdered, he has no choice but to return. Luke only goes home to sell off his share of the Ellery Mountain Cabins, but everything changes when he meets the son of the other owner.
Daniel Skylar is an ex-soldier who lives every day to the limit and sees a future in Luke. It doesn’t matter what Daniel says, or how much he needs Luke; Luke isn’t staying once everything is sold off. Surely Daniel can understand that?
When I read Ellery Mountain it was an established series and read #1-7 back to back and only writing an overall series review.
Original Overall Series(1-7) Read July 2015:
What starts out as three friends weekly get-togethers we discover how lives can intertwine over time in very unexpected scenarios that can actually create a pretty good life, community, and family. Each book in this series centers on a different couple and because of that, strictly speaking each story is a standalone but in my opinion you really should read this one in order because one half of the couple had either a cameo or was mentioned in passing in the previous book. Also, each of the previous couples have at least a partial scene in the following installments. For these reasons I'm doing an overall review as opposed to each book having their own write up. Ellery Mountain has loads of drama, interesting and intriguing characters both main and secondary, hints of mystery, and of course plenty of romance, not to mention what would an RJ Scott story be without some well placed hotness. So come along with the Ellery Mountain Fridays and see what life has in store for them.
RATING:
The World as He Sees It by AM Arthur
Tristan focused on the nighttime city streets, catching the occasional glimpse of something he knew from before. An exit sign. A restaurant. A busy intersection. His focus slipped, and he glanced at the notebook entry for a reminder.
He’d been twenty when his accident happened, so he’d never been to Big Dick’s before. Rumor was the bouncer was an expert at catching fake IDs, so he and Noel had never bothered trying. And he didn’t feel like flipping back through hundreds of pages of handwritten text to find his answer. “Have I been to Big Dick’s before?” he asked Noel.
“Once,” Noel replied. He squirmed, uncomfortable with the question.
That made Tristan nervous. “What happened?”
“About two months ago, you decided you wanted to go to Big Dick’s on your own, to prove to yourself that you could.”
Tristan dropped his forehead into his palm. He was impulsive on the best of days. His memory problems only exacerbated the stress those impulses put his friends through. “I freaked out, didn’t I?”
“A little bit. You lost your notebook, and you didn’t know anyone. The owner called me, and I drove out to pick you up. Nothing happened to you, Tris.”
I bet I wanted to get laid.
Tristan didn’t need to check his notes to know he hadn’t had sex since before the accident. Three years was a long damned dry spell. Not that he could remember the dry spell, exactly. He sensed the passage of time, of course. He could look at Noel and the ways he’d changed and know it was way past college, only it would take a while to remember exactly how long past.
Somehow he innately knew three years. Déjà vu sense at work?
So yeah, dry spell. Then again, who’d want to have sex with a guy who’d probably forget what they were doing halfway through and freak the hell out on him? No one.
Loser.
At least I can dance for a while without forgetting. And Noel will be there. I’ll be safe.
Noel was his touchstone. No notebook needed to know that. Or to know his parents weren’t around. Noel had been his one constant through everything. Tristan wouldn’t be able to function without him.
“I must have felt terrible for dragging you all the way to Harrisburg in the middle of the night,” Tristan said. “You don’t live there anymore.”
Noel nodded, his cheeks pinking up like they did when he was remembering something he didn’t like. “You did feel terrible. But I didn’t mind.”
“Yeah, right. You shouldn’t have to babysit me. And I shouldn’t have gone out alone.” Tristan considered flipping back through his notebook to see if that night was in this one. To figure out his mindset. Except he knew what it was, because he felt like that most of the time.
Lonely. Horny. Scared.
Sick and tired of his broken brain. Desperate to be whole again.
All of the above. All the time.
“If I make a scene tonight, I am so sorry ahead of time.”
Noel squeezed his knee. “I called the owners last night. They remembered you and they know we’re coming. Their employees know.”
Humiliation flamed his face. “Shit, Noel, really?”
“I didn’t do it to embarrass you. I did it to keep you safe. It’s actually a good thing, other people knowing about your disability.”
Dark eyes flashed in his mind. They didn’t belong to anyone in particular. He saw them occasionally and for no good reason. Kind, dark eyes. A warm smile.
“Have I made any new friends lately?” Tristan asked.
“Friends? No.” Noel took an exit into another part of the city. “I mean, you’ve been meeting new people when we go out places. You’ve met some people in Stratton.”
“Okay.”
Noel parked in a pay-by-the-hour garage instead of on the street. Tristan took another look at his notebook for additional clarification, then used a marker to write Noel, Shane, dancing on the backs of both hands. He’d look kind of silly but it would help.
The late hour didn’t diminish the sweltering August heat, and Tristan worked up a good sweat walking. Shane and Noel both looked crazy sexy in their club clothes, and even sexier walking side by side. He was happy for Noel. Happy his best friend was in love and enjoying himself.
He was also stupidly, insanely jealous.
He stuck close with his stupid, insane jealousy because the streets were teeming with people of all ages, heading into and out of the different restaurants and clubs. They turned down a quieter side street that was more like an alley. Halfway down the block a few guys hung out against a stone wall, most of them smoking cigarettes. An industrial door with no sign or markings was being guarded by a big, burly bear of a man in a black leather vest.
“Hey, Officer Carlson,” the bouncer said. He had a deep voice to match his broad body. “Nice to see you again.”
“Hi, Mr. Henson,” Noel said.
“Bear, son. Everyone calls me Bear.”
“Right. This is my friend Tristan Lavelle.”
“A right pleasure.”
Tristan shook Bear’s hand, surprised by the gentle grip. “Hi.” He glanced at Shane, who didn’t seem at all annoyed at being left out. “Um, that’s Shane. Noel’s boyfriend.”
Bear grinned. “Yeah, I know that one all right.”
“You do?” He reached for a notebook he didn’t have, then looked at Noel for answers.
“Shane dances here once a week,” Noel said. “He got the job through Bear’s son Gabe.”
“Oh.” He didn’t bother asking if he’d already been told that. Probably. Every single piece of information that was mildly important to his life had been repeated to him at least, oh, eighteen times. Minimum.
“Enjoy yourselves, boys,” Bear said. “First drinks are on the house.”
“Thank you,” Tristan replied.
Noel pulled the door, and what had been a distant bass became an impressive thumpa-thumpa in Tristan’s chest. The interior of the club was wide and deep, with a high ceiling decorated in strands of red and blue lights. Strobes and other lighting flashed around the dance floor, which seemed to make up most of the floor space. A small U-shaped bar stood to the right. In the rear were what looked like raised platforms. Two hot guys in red short-shorts were gyrating together on one of them.
This is the kind of dancing Shane does? Shit.
He was probably twenty kinds of hot up there.
Someone jostled past them, reminding Tristan to keep moving forward. Noel was hustling them straight for the bar. Tristan couldn’t drink alcohol because of his antidepressants and anxiety medications, and Noel was driving so the only person able to drink much was Shane.
Lucky bastard.
Not that Tristan was going to mourn his dry night. Men. Everywhere around him, a sea of hot men. All kinds of eye candy. Every age, height, weight, shape and body hair amount. He observed and mentally drooled over the flesh on display. The air smelled of liquor and sweat and sex, and good Lord he was starting to get lightheaded from it all.
Noel nudged them closer to the bar. A middle-aged man with gray hair and a pink sequined vest gave them all a big, toothy smile. “Noel and friends,” he said. “Richard Brightman, pleased to officially meet you, Tristan.”
“Hello,” Tristan said. Officially meet you implied they’d interacted before, but the man’s name meant nothing to him.
“I’m Bear’s husband. We own the place.”
“Oh. It’s a great place. I’m pretty sure this is my first time. I like it.”
Noel flinched.
Okay that was wrong. When was I here before?
“So what are we drinking tonight?” Richard asked. “First round on the house. Samuel Adams for you, Shane?”
“Yeah, thanks,” Shane replied.
Richard knows because Shane works here.
“I’ll have a vodka tonic,” Noel said. “Tris?”
“Virgin margarita,” Tristan said. He loved margaritas, and while a virgin wasn’t as good as one with Patrón, he couldn’t mix with his meds.
“Coming up,” Richard said.
The music changed to a faster, sharper beat. Tristan’s hips rolled in tiny motions, instinct bringing out his love of club dancing. Of getting into it with another dude, all writhing bodies and gyrating hips. Arms and legs. Sweat and heavy breathing.
Wonderful arousal stirred in his gut, heating his blood already. He might not be getting laid tonight, but damn it, he was going to have some fun.
“Hey, you guys made it,” said a sexy, sultry voice.
Tristan glanced over his shoulder to see who the voice had spoken to, only to find himself staring into a pair of kind, dark eyes. Kind, dark eyes belonging to a stunningly handsome face. Black hair. Tan skin. Tall and well-built. A walking wet dream who was smiling like they were old friends.
Holy hell, he’s gorgeous.
“Hey, Gabe,” Shane said.
Gabe.
Those kind, dark eyes never broke from his, and Tristan couldn’t look away. Gabe was a stranger, and yet somehow familiar.
His eyes. The eyes I see. We’ve met.
“We’ve met,” Tristan said before he could think twice.
Gabe’s eyebrows twitched. “Yes, we have. Do you remember that?”
“I remember your eyes.”
“You remember my eyes?” He didn’t sound surprised or weirded out by that. More like pleased that a detail had actually stuck.
It pleased Tristan all over the place. “That’s weird, right? I remember your eyes, but I couldn’t tell you what I had for dinner tonight.”
“I guess I made an impression.”
“It’s easy to see how you might.” Hell yes, Tristan was flirting. Hot guy. Dry spell. He was out to have a good time. “I’m guessing we met here?”
“Yeah, we did.” Gabe glanced at Noel, who apparently knew this story, because he nodded at Gabe. “About two months ago, you came to the club alone.”
Dread crept over him. “How badly did I embarrass myself?”
“Not badly. Once my dad called Noel and he explained everything, it was okay. I’m glad I was here to help.”
He was leaving out a lot of details that Tristan wouldn’t remember in half an hour, and he wasn’t entirely sure he needed to hear them. Possibly for the second, third or tenth time. Instead of pressing the issue, he took a long sip of his margarita, savoring the pop of lime and salt on his tongue. Then he looked Gabe in the eye and asked, “You wanna dance?”
Gabe’s grin was immediate and blinding. “Definitely.”
Tristan chugged the rest of his drink, then plunked the glass down on the bar. He grabbed Gabe’s hand and led the way into the sea of moving bodies. Arms and hips bumped and brushed. Music poured through him, setting the beat as he turned to face Gabe, who was already moving. A white tee clung to what was probably a perfect six-pack. Black jeans hugged his ass and outlined a nice package.
So hot.
And his for now, so Tristan let go of Gabe’s hand, closed his eyes and danced.
He’d been twenty when his accident happened, so he’d never been to Big Dick’s before. Rumor was the bouncer was an expert at catching fake IDs, so he and Noel had never bothered trying. And he didn’t feel like flipping back through hundreds of pages of handwritten text to find his answer. “Have I been to Big Dick’s before?” he asked Noel.
“Once,” Noel replied. He squirmed, uncomfortable with the question.
That made Tristan nervous. “What happened?”
“About two months ago, you decided you wanted to go to Big Dick’s on your own, to prove to yourself that you could.”
Tristan dropped his forehead into his palm. He was impulsive on the best of days. His memory problems only exacerbated the stress those impulses put his friends through. “I freaked out, didn’t I?”
“A little bit. You lost your notebook, and you didn’t know anyone. The owner called me, and I drove out to pick you up. Nothing happened to you, Tris.”
I bet I wanted to get laid.
Tristan didn’t need to check his notes to know he hadn’t had sex since before the accident. Three years was a long damned dry spell. Not that he could remember the dry spell, exactly. He sensed the passage of time, of course. He could look at Noel and the ways he’d changed and know it was way past college, only it would take a while to remember exactly how long past.
Somehow he innately knew three years. Déjà vu sense at work?
So yeah, dry spell. Then again, who’d want to have sex with a guy who’d probably forget what they were doing halfway through and freak the hell out on him? No one.
Loser.
At least I can dance for a while without forgetting. And Noel will be there. I’ll be safe.
Noel was his touchstone. No notebook needed to know that. Or to know his parents weren’t around. Noel had been his one constant through everything. Tristan wouldn’t be able to function without him.
“I must have felt terrible for dragging you all the way to Harrisburg in the middle of the night,” Tristan said. “You don’t live there anymore.”
Noel nodded, his cheeks pinking up like they did when he was remembering something he didn’t like. “You did feel terrible. But I didn’t mind.”
“Yeah, right. You shouldn’t have to babysit me. And I shouldn’t have gone out alone.” Tristan considered flipping back through his notebook to see if that night was in this one. To figure out his mindset. Except he knew what it was, because he felt like that most of the time.
Lonely. Horny. Scared.
Sick and tired of his broken brain. Desperate to be whole again.
All of the above. All the time.
“If I make a scene tonight, I am so sorry ahead of time.”
Noel squeezed his knee. “I called the owners last night. They remembered you and they know we’re coming. Their employees know.”
Humiliation flamed his face. “Shit, Noel, really?”
“I didn’t do it to embarrass you. I did it to keep you safe. It’s actually a good thing, other people knowing about your disability.”
Dark eyes flashed in his mind. They didn’t belong to anyone in particular. He saw them occasionally and for no good reason. Kind, dark eyes. A warm smile.
“Have I made any new friends lately?” Tristan asked.
“Friends? No.” Noel took an exit into another part of the city. “I mean, you’ve been meeting new people when we go out places. You’ve met some people in Stratton.”
“Okay.”
Noel parked in a pay-by-the-hour garage instead of on the street. Tristan took another look at his notebook for additional clarification, then used a marker to write Noel, Shane, dancing on the backs of both hands. He’d look kind of silly but it would help.
The late hour didn’t diminish the sweltering August heat, and Tristan worked up a good sweat walking. Shane and Noel both looked crazy sexy in their club clothes, and even sexier walking side by side. He was happy for Noel. Happy his best friend was in love and enjoying himself.
He was also stupidly, insanely jealous.
He stuck close with his stupid, insane jealousy because the streets were teeming with people of all ages, heading into and out of the different restaurants and clubs. They turned down a quieter side street that was more like an alley. Halfway down the block a few guys hung out against a stone wall, most of them smoking cigarettes. An industrial door with no sign or markings was being guarded by a big, burly bear of a man in a black leather vest.
“Hey, Officer Carlson,” the bouncer said. He had a deep voice to match his broad body. “Nice to see you again.”
“Hi, Mr. Henson,” Noel said.
“Bear, son. Everyone calls me Bear.”
“Right. This is my friend Tristan Lavelle.”
“A right pleasure.”
Tristan shook Bear’s hand, surprised by the gentle grip. “Hi.” He glanced at Shane, who didn’t seem at all annoyed at being left out. “Um, that’s Shane. Noel’s boyfriend.”
Bear grinned. “Yeah, I know that one all right.”
“You do?” He reached for a notebook he didn’t have, then looked at Noel for answers.
“Shane dances here once a week,” Noel said. “He got the job through Bear’s son Gabe.”
“Oh.” He didn’t bother asking if he’d already been told that. Probably. Every single piece of information that was mildly important to his life had been repeated to him at least, oh, eighteen times. Minimum.
“Enjoy yourselves, boys,” Bear said. “First drinks are on the house.”
“Thank you,” Tristan replied.
Noel pulled the door, and what had been a distant bass became an impressive thumpa-thumpa in Tristan’s chest. The interior of the club was wide and deep, with a high ceiling decorated in strands of red and blue lights. Strobes and other lighting flashed around the dance floor, which seemed to make up most of the floor space. A small U-shaped bar stood to the right. In the rear were what looked like raised platforms. Two hot guys in red short-shorts were gyrating together on one of them.
This is the kind of dancing Shane does? Shit.
He was probably twenty kinds of hot up there.
Someone jostled past them, reminding Tristan to keep moving forward. Noel was hustling them straight for the bar. Tristan couldn’t drink alcohol because of his antidepressants and anxiety medications, and Noel was driving so the only person able to drink much was Shane.
Lucky bastard.
Not that Tristan was going to mourn his dry night. Men. Everywhere around him, a sea of hot men. All kinds of eye candy. Every age, height, weight, shape and body hair amount. He observed and mentally drooled over the flesh on display. The air smelled of liquor and sweat and sex, and good Lord he was starting to get lightheaded from it all.
Noel nudged them closer to the bar. A middle-aged man with gray hair and a pink sequined vest gave them all a big, toothy smile. “Noel and friends,” he said. “Richard Brightman, pleased to officially meet you, Tristan.”
“Hello,” Tristan said. Officially meet you implied they’d interacted before, but the man’s name meant nothing to him.
“I’m Bear’s husband. We own the place.”
“Oh. It’s a great place. I’m pretty sure this is my first time. I like it.”
Noel flinched.
Okay that was wrong. When was I here before?
“So what are we drinking tonight?” Richard asked. “First round on the house. Samuel Adams for you, Shane?”
“Yeah, thanks,” Shane replied.
Richard knows because Shane works here.
“I’ll have a vodka tonic,” Noel said. “Tris?”
“Virgin margarita,” Tristan said. He loved margaritas, and while a virgin wasn’t as good as one with Patrón, he couldn’t mix with his meds.
“Coming up,” Richard said.
The music changed to a faster, sharper beat. Tristan’s hips rolled in tiny motions, instinct bringing out his love of club dancing. Of getting into it with another dude, all writhing bodies and gyrating hips. Arms and legs. Sweat and heavy breathing.
Wonderful arousal stirred in his gut, heating his blood already. He might not be getting laid tonight, but damn it, he was going to have some fun.
“Hey, you guys made it,” said a sexy, sultry voice.
Tristan glanced over his shoulder to see who the voice had spoken to, only to find himself staring into a pair of kind, dark eyes. Kind, dark eyes belonging to a stunningly handsome face. Black hair. Tan skin. Tall and well-built. A walking wet dream who was smiling like they were old friends.
Holy hell, he’s gorgeous.
“Hey, Gabe,” Shane said.
Gabe.
Those kind, dark eyes never broke from his, and Tristan couldn’t look away. Gabe was a stranger, and yet somehow familiar.
His eyes. The eyes I see. We’ve met.
“We’ve met,” Tristan said before he could think twice.
Gabe’s eyebrows twitched. “Yes, we have. Do you remember that?”
“I remember your eyes.”
“You remember my eyes?” He didn’t sound surprised or weirded out by that. More like pleased that a detail had actually stuck.
It pleased Tristan all over the place. “That’s weird, right? I remember your eyes, but I couldn’t tell you what I had for dinner tonight.”
“I guess I made an impression.”
“It’s easy to see how you might.” Hell yes, Tristan was flirting. Hot guy. Dry spell. He was out to have a good time. “I’m guessing we met here?”
“Yeah, we did.” Gabe glanced at Noel, who apparently knew this story, because he nodded at Gabe. “About two months ago, you came to the club alone.”
Dread crept over him. “How badly did I embarrass myself?”
“Not badly. Once my dad called Noel and he explained everything, it was okay. I’m glad I was here to help.”
He was leaving out a lot of details that Tristan wouldn’t remember in half an hour, and he wasn’t entirely sure he needed to hear them. Possibly for the second, third or tenth time. Instead of pressing the issue, he took a long sip of his margarita, savoring the pop of lime and salt on his tongue. Then he looked Gabe in the eye and asked, “You wanna dance?”
Gabe’s grin was immediate and blinding. “Definitely.”
Tristan chugged the rest of his drink, then plunked the glass down on the bar. He grabbed Gabe’s hand and led the way into the sea of moving bodies. Arms and hips bumped and brushed. Music poured through him, setting the beat as he turned to face Gabe, who was already moving. A white tee clung to what was probably a perfect six-pack. Black jeans hugged his ass and outlined a nice package.
So hot.
And his for now, so Tristan let go of Gabe’s hand, closed his eyes and danced.
Wake by K Evan Coles & Brigham Vaughn
August, 1996
Cambridge, Massachusetts
Cambridge, Massachusetts
“These rooms always look so much bigger online.”
Carter Hamilton flinched in surprise at the smooth voice behind him. Blinking slowly, he drew a breath to quiet his heart, then turned to meet a pair of lively blue eyes.
“Sorry.” A guy Carter’s age stepped inside the door, his expression sheepish. A smile lit his handsome face and an intriguing flush colored his cheeks. “I didn’t mean to startle you.”
Carter shrugged before standing up from the couch where he’d been reading. “I’ll live.”
“I knocked, but no one answered. The door wasn’t bolted, so I assumed no one was here.”
“Ah, that’s my bad.” Heat crept up Carter’s neck. “I got caught up in my book and didn’t hear you. I’m Carter and I’m guessing you’re one of my suitemates—are you Riley or Daniel?”
“Riley Porter-Wright.”
Riley walked forward with a grin. Riley was lean and tall, though still an inch or two shorter than Carter, who stood six foot three. His stylish black shirt and trousers were immaculate compared to Carter’s T-shirt and jeans and his dark hair fell forward onto his forehead as he shook Carter’s hand.
A small smile crossed Carter’s face. He’d been exchanging messages with his suitemates for weeks. Daniel, who had yet to show himself, hailed from Philadelphia, while Riley, like Carter, lived in Manhattan, though the two had never met. They’d coordinated basic furnishings for their Harvard University rooms and agreed to fill in gaps later.
“I’m Carter Hamilton,” Carter told him with a laugh, “which you know. And since I was the first here, I guess it’s okay for me to say it—welcome to Wigg.”
Riley rolled his eyes, making Carter smile wider. He’d been amused by the freshman dorm’s nickname, too, but Wigglesworth was highly desired, with large suites and convenient placement for the university libraries. Carter watched Riley approach the window and frowned upon noticing he carried only an overnight bag and nothing more.
“You planning on staying?” Carter eyed Riley’s bag when he turned and cocked his head in question. “I know from your email messages that you’re not big on decorating, but one bag seems like taking traveling light to new extremes. You said you’d bring a fridge, too, in case you forgot.”
Riley glanced down at himself and laughed, the clear boyish sound echoing through the sparsely furnished common room.
“I didn’t forget. I did bring a fridge and more boxes and bags, too—they’re in a moving van stuck in traffic on Storrow Drive. One of the movers called me twenty minutes ago,” he added, drawing closer to set his bag against the side of the couch. “I’m not sure I buy their story, though. They probably got here hours ago and found someplace to have lunch and a couple of beers before they drop my shit off.
“Nice couch, by the way.” Riley nodded at the charcoal-colored couch Carter and his father had carried in earlier. “You picked out a bedroom already?” he asked, taking a seat.
“Not really. I got here late this morning, so we moved everything in and pushed it out of the way.” Carter sat down too, waving at the boxes and suitcases lining the wall to their left. “The way I see it, once Dan shows, we can figure out who’s going to share and who’s got the single.”
“Someone had a productive day,” Riley teased, raising his brows and making Carter laugh.
“Yeah, well, my parents wanted to stay and meet you guys, but I didn’t want them hitting rush hour on their way home. You’ll meet them soon, anyway—they’re already talking about their next trip up.
“I bought them lunch before they left,” Carter added, unsure why he was sharing so much information with a guy he’d just met. “I figured that was the least I could do after they helped me drag my stuff up three flights.”
Riley blinked several times, appearing vaguely surprised. “Your parents helped you move in?”
“Sure,” Carter replied with a shrug. “My dad’s an alumnus and my mom graduated from Wellesley—they enjoy visiting Cambridge.” He chuckled. “They were definitely excited to help me settle in, even if it meant manual labor.”
Riley’s expression became thoughtful. Looking down, he traced a frayed spot on the right knee of his jeans with his finger. In a flash, Carter understood Riley was on his own.
Riley glanced up at Carter again. “My parents couldn’t make the trip,” he said, his voice light. “They’re having dinner with friends tonight and didn’t want to be late. I took the car up from the city.”
Carter nodded. The idea of his parents choosing to socialize over seeing him off to school seemed utterly alien. Did it bother Riley that his parents were uninterested in what had to be an exciting day for him?
An impulse struck Carter to make Riley comfortable. “You know, you never told me where you live in the city.”
Riley smiled, though a trace of melancholy flickered in his eyes. “West 86th Street. That’s where my parents live, and I suppose I’ll be there for a while longer. What about you?”
“East 63rd Street.” Carter grinned. “That’s funny.”
“Funny?”
“We live in the same city separated by twenty-three blocks and the Park. Doesn’t seem like much when you consider we had to come to Cambridge, Massachusetts, to meet.”
Riley’s eyes brightened. They chatted easily about their trips from New York until the door banged open, then watched a figure shoulder its way in with a stack of boxes. The boxes landed on the floor with a thump, revealing a cheerful-looking guy with a wiry build, golden-brown skin and inquisitive gray eyes.
“Dan Conley,” he said, flashing a smile. “My dad’s parking the car. You guys want to arm wrestle now or later to settle the whole double vs. single room thing?”
After a quick discussion, it became clear Dan and Riley preferred the single room, while Carter was willing to share the double. He sat on the couch with Dan’s parents, watching his new friends flip a coin. Dan won the toss and celebrated with an exaggerated touchdown dance, complete with slo-mo action that made Riley roll his eyes.
Riley’s movers arrived then and made short work of bringing his load of boxes and bags upstairs. The trio started arranging furniture and unpacking, with Dan’s parents providing useful—if unsolicited—feedback.
After the rooms were in some order, the Conleys insisted on taking all three suitemates to Grendel’s Den for dinner. They got to know each other better over sandwiches, while Dan’s parents asked Carter and Riley about their families. They had a pleasant evening, though Riley shared little about himself and even less about his parents. He talked easily about New York and the traveling he’d done during school vacations but shut down personal questions. He wasn’t rude—if anything he seemed the opposite, with his open expression and bright gaze, but spent more time listening to the others than talking about himself.
It was late when Carter finally dropped onto his bed with a grunt. Dan had already been asleep for an hour and Riley had headed for the shower while Carter closed his eyes and took mental inventory of his sore muscles.
The sound of the bathroom door opening roused Carter from his dozy thoughts. He peeled an eyelid open to peer up at his roommate, who was moving around the bedroom and taking pains to be quiet. Like Carter, Riley wore a pair of dark sleep pants, though he had forgone a T-shirt. Droplets of water fell from his still wet hair, shining in the low light as they rolled over his bare shoulders and back. Carter was still trying to understand why he’d even think such a thing when Riley turned, looking pensive. Carter rolled onto his side and propped his head on one hand.
Riley jumped, startled by the sudden movement. “Jesus, Carter!”
“Um, just Carter will do—no need to get formal.” Carter bit his lip against a smile.
“You scared the shit out of me. I thought you were asleep, you sneaky bastard.”
Riley’s words were sharp, but the glint in his eyes told Carter his irritation was mostly for show.
“Sorry. Consider it payback for scaring me earlier today.”
Carter pushed himself up to pull back the bedding and slip underneath the duvet and sheet. He watched Riley puttering about, getting ready for bed and his amusement faded. Despite his roommate’s smile, Carter sensed Riley had something on his mind. He lay quietly, worrying his lower lip with his teeth until Riley sat on the edge of his own bed.
“Is this bothering you?” Carter asked, waving one hand in a vague circle. Riley eyed him blankly. “The room-sharing thing, I mean. I know you’ve never had a roommate before, so I can sort of see where you’d be feeling weirded out.”
“No, I’m—” Riley began before pausing, his lips pressed into a thin line. He blew out a slow breath before he spoke again, his voice low and calm. “I’m okay. It is a little weird sharing a room. I mean, my room at home is bigger than the whole suite.” He grimaced a bit at Carter’s laugh, and shrugged. “But you probably guessed that already. You come from the same world.”
Carter reached up to fold his hands behind his head. “It does seem like culture shock in a lot of ways. I have almost a full floor at my parents’ and now I’m sharing three rooms with strangers. In the middle of freaking Red Sox country, no less.” Both guys laughed. “I like it, though. Yeah, it’s small and all bricks and ivy but it feels…I don’t know, right. At least to me.”
“I get it.” Riley ran his hands over his damp hair with a sigh. He was quiet for so long Carter wondered if he would speak again. “My parents aren’t the warmest people in the world. You probably gathered that when I told you they couldn’t be bothered to even meet me here.”
Carter nodded, Riley’s words settling over him.
“I’m used to it,” Riley added, rubbing his forehead. “I’ve never known any different. Oh, my parents have always taken care of me and they’ll give me almost anything I ask for. Except for their attention. They leave that to the nannies and minders and secretaries, who give me attention because they’re paid to.”
The air grew heavy, charged with emotion Carter understood Riley didn’t want to acknowledge.
“My parents aren’t interested in me.” Riley held up a hand when Carter opened his mouth to protest, though he didn’t meet Carter’s eyes. “They’re not, trust me. I’ve known it for a long time and I can’t remember when I last sorry for myself about it. My parents aren’t interested in each other, to be honest—they can’t even drum up enough feeling to fucking fight with each other.”
Riley’s words came more slowly as he continued, dropping his fingers to trace a spot on the right knee of his sleep pants. Carter had watched him do the same thing a few times already, always when he seemed to be masking some emotion.
“Watching the Conleys today,” Riley said, “listening to you talk about your parents and to them after they called… I started thinking, Carter. I’m so used to the way my parents behave I’m almost at a loss to understand how normal families function.”
“I’m not sure my family is what you’d call normal, Riley.” Carter’s voice was quiet. “They’re certainly not average compared to Dan’s parents. The Conleys are pretty well off, but we both know Dan’s here on a partial music scholarship.”
Riley made a dismissive noise. “Over half of the students here are on some kind of scholarship. It’s not like that’s particularly unusual. Sure, your family has a lot more money than the Conleys. I’m talking about the connections, though, between people. Between you and your parents, between Dan and his. Hell, between your mom and your dad, and Dan’s mom and—”
“I get it.”
Something in Carter’s gentle interruption caught Riley’s attention. Suddenly, he met Carter’s gaze and held it.
“I don’t know why I’m telling you this. No, that’s a lie—I do know. I don’t want to be like that. Like my parents, I mean. Frozen with this hard shell wrapped around me.” Riley’s eyes flashed with something raw. “I don’t want to be one of the Porter-Wrights and make my life about the job and the parties and how many cars and houses and boats I can buy.”
Carter pursed his lips, struck by Riley’s choice of words. “Your focus doesn’t have to be about the material things, man. But unless you plan to cut ties with your family, parties and cars and houses and boats are going to be part of your life.”
“You’re right. Possessions shouldn’t be anyone’s focus, or at least not all the time.” Riley closed his eyes for a moment, fatigue written across his face. “I’m glad I’m here. Away from them and that life.”
“At least until Thanksgiving, anyway,” Carter teased. He didn’t know why Riley was suddenly opening up, but he wanted to offer his roommate some cheer. “You can come to my house for dinner. We’ll show you how the Hamiltons party like the Founding Fathers.”
Riley grunted, then stretched out, pulling the bedding over himself before he spoke again. “I’m down. My parents usually go away for Thanksgiving. They’re partial to Grenada. My mother works on her tan and my father works on his golf swing. I used to go with them, but last year I decided to hang out in New York.”
“Was it weird?” Carter couldn’t imagine Riley’s parents leaving him to rattle around a huge apartment alone while they went on vacation.
“No—it was fantastic.”
Riley turned his head and the genuine warmth in his expression made Carter feel lighter.
“Some of my friends from school came over. We bought a ton of Thai food for dinner and smoked some weed and just sat around on the balcony for a while. The party went on for a couple of days.”
Carter raised an eyebrow. “Sounds pretty debauched.”
“Oh, you know it. I still hear stories about what happened in my own house. Fucking animals.” Riley rolled onto his side. “The best day, though, was Sunday. I took the car uptown to this church in Harlem that one of my father’s secretaries attends. They put on a Thanksgiving Gospel Concert every year, so I hung out and listened to music. Amazing.”
Carter smiled at the awe on his roommate’s face. “It sounds it.”
“Come with me this year,” Riley urged suddenly, propping himself up on one elbow.
“Sure. If you come to dinner at my house,” Carter bargained, “assuming your parents will be out of town.”
“Fuck it.” Riley grinned. “I don’t care where my parents are, Car—I’ll be at your door for dinner whenever you want me.”
“I’ve never been to a Thanksgiving concert before,” Carter mused. “No one’s ever called me Car before, either.”
Riley’s eyebrows shot up. “Really? Not even your parents or friends?”
“Nope.”
“I can stop, if you want.”
“Doesn’t bother me.” Carter smiled lazily. “Anyone call you Ri for short?”
“Sure. The nannies and the minders and the secretaries call me Ri. Kids at school. My teachers. Anyone who’s known me for more than a couple of hours.” Riley’s laugh was rueful. “Basically, anyone but my parents.”
“Sounds like I’m in good company then.” Carter rolled over with a yawn and closed his eyes. “Night, Ri.”
* * * * *
Carter, Riley and Dan fell into their lives at Harvard with ease. Dan was a music major minoring in French, while Carter and Riley were both business majors. The time the friends spent together each day increased after all three gained membership to the same club, Phoenix-SK.
The final clubs were Harvard’s version of Greek fraternities. They promised networking opportunities after graduation but also provided social outlets away from the dorms. Carter’s and Riley’s fathers had also belonged to Phoenix-SK but had missed knowing one another by a few years.
Carter was pleasantly surprised to find himself comfortable with Riley’s almost constant presence. They shared many of the same interests, including cyberpunk novels and Quentin Tarantino movies, and even had similar tastes in food and music. The more they talked and spent time together, the more firmly their friendship cemented.
The one activity Riley refused to consider was heavyweight crew. Carter had rowed with a junior club during high school and was eager to use his height and powerful build as part of the Harvard Crimson. Riley thought Carter was out of his mind.
“I don’t understand you.” He cocked an eyebrow after Carter explained rowing was a Hamilton family tradition. “What kind of person voluntarily sits in a boat with a bunch of other meaty guys while someone screams at them through a bullhorn?”
Carter rolled his eyes as Dan joined in chuckling with Riley.
“A me kind of person, I guess. You should at least try it before making a decision, guys.”
“You know, it sounds fun,” Dan said. He held up a placating hand while Riley made an outraged noise. “But I’m an inch under six feet and we both know that’s too short for heavyweight crew.”
“True. You could try out for lightweight, instead,” Carter offered, narrowing his eyes at Riley’s snort. “Shut it, you.”
Dan gave Riley the finger. “I could, but I need to spend time in the music rooms downstairs, anyway. If you and I were on the same team, that’d be one thing, but…”
“I get it, man,” Carter replied and he did. Dan’s academic schedule was busy enough before club activities—add time at the piano composing and he needed every spare minute he could find.
Carter aimed a beady eye at Riley. “What about you, funny guy—you up for a free workout with a view? The river’s awfully pretty, especially first thing in the morning.”
Riley laughed. “Yeah, you lost me at ‘first thing in the morning.’ Look, you say rowing crew is Hamilton family tradition. Fine, that’s your business. The Porter-Wrights have traditions, too. They include not getting up at the crack of ass every morning to risk drowning in a muddy river. Thanks, but no thanks.”
Despite the teasing, Riley and Dan seemed genuinely pleased when Carter came home with soggy shoes and a place on the team. Carter suspected they were just being polite, but he appreciated their efforts nonetheless.
Carter enjoyed rowing for the Crimson and losing himself in the simple physicality of the task and feeling part of a team. He looked forward to the quiet hush of the river, the lap of the waves against the side of the boat and the collective breaths and grunts of the team as they worked together.
There were negatives, of course, starting with practice at dawn and the feeling he just didn’t have enough hours in the day. Carter focused on being grateful when Riley helped him bandage his blisters and smiled at the protein bars Dan stuffed into his coat pockets. Riley and Dan attended races when they could, sharing thermoses of Irish coffee and cheering while the Crimson’s boats slipped by on the river.
As the weeks passed, Riley lost the shell he’d confessed to hating. Carter doubted anyone outside himself and Dan saw the subtle difference in their friend. Riley’s dress grew more casual, as did his speech. He talked more about himself, which gave people a chance to get to know him better. He still didn’t say much about his parents and when he did, he often dropped his right hand to his knee to draw circles on his pant leg with his fingers. Riley didn’t glance away anymore, though, and he met the gaze of whoever he was speaking to unwaveringly.
It was during a Halloween party in one of the dorms that Carter became aware of how others perceived his friendship with Riley. He’d been chatting with Susannah, a pretty girl from his calculus class, and had been about to ask her out for coffee when she put a hand on his forearm and sighed.
“What’s that about?” Carter peered under the brim of Susannah’s midnight-blue witch’s hat and gave her a smile.
Susannah grimaced slightly. “Don’t take this the wrong way, Carter—you know I like you. If you were straight, I’d be really, really interested in you.”
Carter frowned, the word straight still sinking into his brain while Susannah continued.
“I don’t understand why the only guys who ever talk to me at parties are gay. You know?” Susannah twisted strands of her long, dark hair around one finger. “Honestly, I’ve basically despaired of finding a man of my own. I’ll have to hang out with you and your boyfriend and pray people think we have some kind of polyamorous arrangement going on.”
Carter shook his head slowly, Susannah’s words beginning to make a kind of strange sense. She wrinkled her brow as Carter stood silent and she stepped closer, to squeeze his arm gently.
“Dude, I’m sorry. Did I… Was the poly thing too much? I was just joking, I swear.”
“Susannah, are you under the impression I’m gay? That Riley and I are together?”
Susannah cocked her head. “Well, yes. Aren’t you? Gay, I mean. And Riley’s boyfriend?”
“No, I am not. Gay or Riley’s boyfriend.” Carter fought conflicting urges to be angry and amused. “Riley’s not gay, either. Where the hell did you get that idea?”
“Oh, my God, I’m so sorry.” Susannah’s face flushed deep red and she put her fingers over her mouth. She looked so stricken that Carter gave in to the impulse to laugh. “Jesus, I’m so embarrassed!”
“You should be,” Carter scolded, though he laughed harder at the expression of horror on her face. “Why would you think that, woman?”
“You’re always together!” she exclaimed. “I’ve never seen either of you with a girl and you told me Riley is your roommate. I assumed it all added up to the two of you being, you know, together.”
Carter laughed hard enough he had to put down his drink. “What about Dan? He lives with us and we hang out all the time. Is he one of the boyfriends, too?”
“Dan goes on dates, Carter. He dates women. Okay, one woman,” Susanna clarified, turning to search the crowd, and pointing when she found the right faces. Carter craned his neck to follow her gesture. He nodded at Dan with his arms around Melanie Howard, another music major who often came by their suite. They’d coordinated their costumes, with Dan dressed as a devil and Mel an angel, and come to the party with a group of friends.
“Everyone knows Dan and Mel are dating,” Susannah said. “They’ve been together practically since the first day of classes.”
Dan and Mel really were inseparable. She was double majoring in music and psychology and planned to go into music therapy. Mel was a petite beauty, with dark hair, creamy golden skin and greenish-gray eyes. Carter appreciated her bright and sarcastic brand of humor and knew Dan really liked her.
“Okay, I see your point.” Carter glanced back to Susannah with a steely expression. “Making assumptions about Riley and me, though, is not cool.”
Susannah gulped, and dropped her gaze to the drink in her hands. “You’re right. You should know I’m not the only one who thinks you’re together, by the way.”
Carter frowned, trying to understand how to feel about what Susannah had told him. He’d grown up with a diverse group of friends and he didn’t much care whom a person spent their time with. As far as Carter was concerned, whatever and whomever made a person happy was fine by him, provided everyone involved consented. The idea people thought he was someone’s boyfriend, however… That didn’t fit into Carter’s world. It certainly did not fit into his family’s, either.
“People really think Riley and I are together?”
“Well, girls, mostly,” Susannah replied, “and that’s because they’re trying to figure out what’s going on with you and Riley.”
“Nothing is going on, Susannah.”
“I know.” Her voice dropped low as she tried to smooth Carter’s ruffled feathers. “I’m sorry we gossiped. Two good-looking guys, in each other’s company more than anyone else’s…a girl’s gonna try to put the pieces together.”
“Uh-huh. Put the pieces together incorrectly, you mean,” he replied. Carter imagined his parents’ reaction to the rumor and his stomach knotted.
The dejection on Susannah’s face softened his annoyance, however. He’d really wanted to take her out for coffee before she’d let her ‘secret’ slip. And his heart beat a little faster as he understood taking Susannah out would nip the ‘boyfriends’ rumor in the bud, too.
“Are you very angry?” she asked quietly, concern visible in her green eyes.
Carter smiled. “No. You surprised me, that’s all. I might have been a little offended, too, but only because you could have asked me instead of gossiping. That shit’s not okay, Susannah. Especially because I planned on asking you out.”
Susannah’s mouth dropped open. “You did?” she squeaked, then cleared her throat, obviously working to recover her composure. “You could still ask me, you know. Or, maybe you should let me take you out. So I can apologize for being a gossipy shrew.”
Her words warmed Carter and his grin slowly widened. “Sure. I think I can handle that.”
* * * * *
A chill fell over New England as the Thanksgiving holiday approached, one that seemed to match Riley’s overall mood. He continued to attend classes with Carter but began studying away from the suite. He was rarely available for activities at Wigg or Phoenix-SK and getting him to agree even to share a meal became impossible. Tension crept into the suite when Dan or Carter brought their girlfriends back and both friends became accustomed to Riley leaving the rooms instead of subjecting them to his stiff silences.
Carter tried to talk to Riley about his behavior on several occasions but found himself shut out. He was surprised by how much that stung. Riley and Dan were more than just Carter’s suitemates and he’d grown particularly close to Riley. After his family, Riley was the first person Carter thought of to share good news with and the first person he went to with a problem. Riley had become Carter’s sounding board and confidant and Carter hoped Riley felt the same about him.
A few days before school let out for the holiday, a thump woke Carter out of a sound sleep. He squinted at the clock through the darkened bedroom and smothered a groan on realizing it was after two o’clock in the morning. A second, louder thump followed a pained grunt and Carter leaned to turn on the bedside lamp, shocked to see Riley lying sprawled on the floor.
Carter sat up and tossed off the covers. “Ri? What the fuck are you doing?”
“Carpet inspection,” Riley replied in a strained voice.
“Are you okay?” Carter swung his legs over the edge of the bed to crouch beside his roommate, who still hadn’t stirred from his prone position.
Riley grunted again. “Not really. I face planted pretty hard. That’s gonna leave a mark.” He paused for a moment before rolling onto his side, his voice lower and more somber. “Help me?”
Carter leaned forward immediately, sliding an arm under his friend’s shoulder to guide Riley up to sit. The smell of beer and stale cigarette smoke filled Carter’s nose, but he said nothing, waiting until his friend nodded before helping him to his feet.
“Too many beers?” Carter kept his voice light and helped Riley to his bed.
“No, not exactly. I had a couple at Grendel’s with some guys from the club,” he said with a chuckle, “but honestly, I’m just tired. And your goddamned sneakers are inside the door again.” He sighed while Carter sat down beside him.
“Shit, I’m sorry.” With a grimace, Carter leaned forward to catch Riley’s eye. “I meant to move them, but—”
“You forgot, I know. It’s fine. I should know by now than to come in here without checking the floor first.” Riley lifted one hand, prodding gingerly at his cheek and grumbled in discomfort. “Ow.”
Carter stood. “I’ll get some ice. Stop,” he commanded when Riley moved to join him. “Sit still, and try not to trip over anything else. I’ll be right back.”
Riley had removed his coat by the time Carter returned with ice cubes and a washcloth. A red welt was already visible on Riley’s cheekbone when he glanced up, but to Carter’s surprise, he didn’t appear to be angry. If anything, he seemed amused.
“Is it bad?” Riley asked.
“It’s not good.”
Riley sighed and held out a hand out for the ice pack, looking puzzled as Carter knelt in front of him. “What are you doing?”
Carter dropped his hands to unlace Riley’s shoes. “How bad does it hurt?” He ducked his head after Riley pressed the ice to his face and swore.
“Enough to make me want to kick your ass,” Riley replied, an undertone of humor in his voice. He lifted one foot, then the other for Carter to remove his shoes. “Too bad my parents will be out of town over Thanksgiving. A black eye would have given them something interesting to talk about over turkey.”
A hollow feeling settled over Carter at the mention of the holiday. He and Riley had spoken several times about spending Thanksgiving dinner together, but now, Carter had no idea where they stood. Slowly, he eased himself up to sit beside Riley on the bed. Leaning forward, he propped his elbows on his knees, turning to hold Riley’s gaze for a few moments. Riley’s eyebrows pulled together, uncertainty filtering over his face at Carter’s silence.
Finally, Carter dropped his gaze to the floor. He felt almost pitifully grateful Riley was there beside him and talking, rather than pushing him away, so he drew a breath and ignored his nerves.
“You know, the invitation for dinner is still open.”
A melancholy smile touched Riley’s lips and made his blue eyes darken. “Thanks. But you don’t need to do that, Car.”
“Do what?” Carter stared blankly at him. “Invite you to dinner when we’ll be in the same city and your parents are going out of town?”
Riley began to trace circles on his knee with the fingers of his right hand. “I wasn’t sure you’d still want to hang out after…”
“After you froze me out?” Carter nodded at Riley’s wince. “Yeah, well. I don’t know why you did it but that was pretty lame, Ri. For Dan, too. What the fuck?”
Riley grumbled under his breath. “I wanted to give you guys some space. You know, with the girlfriends and all.”
Carter cocked his head. “What for?”
Gesturing with the hand holding the ice pack, Riley waved at the two single beds and the desks crammed into the other corner. “This isn’t exactly romance central, Car. The least I could do was try to clear out so you had a little privacy with Susannah and Dan with Mel.”
Carter pressed his lips together and tried not to punch his friend. “You’re an asshole, you know.”
“What? Why?”
“Because you didn’t even try talking to us. You just cut us off. Dan and I haven’t known what the hell is up with you for weeks. I worried something was going on with your family. Dan asked me if you were planning to transfer.”
Riley’s cheeks flooded with color. “Shit, I’m sorry. None of that is happening. I’m fine! I just didn’t want to be a fifth wheel, you know?”
Carter’s irritation faded as he understood his friend was actually fine. “Talk to us. Talk to me. We could have worked something out about the rooms and Susannah. We’ll have to when you bring girls back here, anyway.”
A cocky grin flashed over Riley’s face. “Who says I haven’t?”
Carter’s brows shot up before he grimaced playfully. “Really, dude? What, in between classes?”
“Maybe. I don’t kiss and tell, Hamilton. I’m a gentleman.”
“No, you are a jackass.”
Riley burst out laughing and that clear, boyish sound made Carter’s whole being feel lighter. He nudged Riley’s knee with his own.
“Come to the East Side for dinner. You can tell my parents you tried to fight my sneakers and lost.”
Riley laughed again, softly, and something tight in Carter’s chest unfurled. Standing, he motioned with his hand for his friend to lie down. He talked about his mother’s amazing apple crisp recipe while Riley stripped off his sweater and crawled under the duvet. His eyes were already closed, the ice pack balanced on his cheek as Carter switched off the lamp.
“I’m sorry about your face,” Carter told him before turning back to his own bed.
“I know, Car. S’okay.”
“You coming to dinner?” he asked, holding his breath for the few moments that passed before Riley replied.
“Yeah.” Riley’s words were slightly slurred with sleep. “Someone’s gotta look after you.”
Lucky Dance Date by Lacey Daize
Chapter 1 - Wes
~January~
Ismiled at my camera and ring light. “That’s it for today’s mini-lesson. Make sure to subscribe to my channel for access to full lessons. And if you live in Valle Granja, stop in and join our real life dance classes.”
My smile widened and I made heart-hands as I prepared for my traditional send-off. “Until next time, keep those toes tapping. Wes, out.”
I struck a pose and held it for several seconds so that my editor would have plenty of time for a clean outtro. Then I strode to the camera and turned it off.
The sound of small footsteps running up the stairs to the studio filtered in, and I knew that the first of my after-school students had arrived. I quickly carried my recording equipment to the instructors’ office, closed the door just enough to check that my dance belt was still where I wanted it, then headed back out to the lobby.
“No street shoes on the dance floor,” I stated, even though all of my students knew the drill.
“Ok!” Madison, the niece of one of my best friends, said as she sat on one of the benches, kicked off her character sneakers, and pulled on a pair of split-sole dance shoes.
“Can I go warm up?” she asked as she shoved her street shoes in one of the cubbies.
“Go ahead,” I replied as other kids started to filter in.
“Thank you!” she squealed as she bolted into the studio proper.
I smiled as I reminded the others to change their shoes. Madison was one of my most enthusiastic students, and I saw the potential for her to be an incredible dancer. I even planned to talk to her papa about having her audition for the summer musical held by the Valle Granja Performing Arts Initiative.
It would be a step up from the small performances held by our dance association, but I was sure that she was ready.
I waited for the stragglers, checked my messages to see if parents had contacted me about any of the no-shows, then strode into the studio.
“Let’s warm up everybody,” I said, clapping my hands to get their attention. “To the barre for stretches.”
The kids all took their places, and I smiled as they settled from excited chatter to serious practice.
We went through our warm up routine before reviewing our triple-steps. Then I settled into the lesson for the day.
I couldn’t help but smile as the kids tripped over their own feet before learning the new steps.
My life was nearly perfect. I had a job that I loved: teaching dance. Even better was that it paid the bills. I had a cute apartment all to myself. I performed regularly with the local theater initiative, and I was an advocate for local investment in the arts.
There were only two downsides: my parents, who were vehemently against everything I did, and my lack of a mate or children.
Unfortunately I couldn’t fix my parents, and the only alpha I’d ever wanted had been scared off by them more than a decade ago. Even now I dreamt of his sun-kissed skin and black hair.
Still, I was surrounded by small blessings, and I’d long since learned to appreciate them.
Slay Ride by Davidson King
MASON
“The world is a dangerous place, not because of those who do evil, but because of those who look on and do nothing.” ~ Albert Einstein
CHAPTER ONE
“You’re coming out tonight. Please say you are,” JJ, my best friend in all the world, pouted as he asked. Was I so predictable that he knew I wanted to say no before he finished his sentence?
“I’m closing tonight.” I probably could convince my manager at Books and Bistro to let me go early. She’d be happy to know I had a social life, but I was not a people person, and being around strangers was a special kind of torture. They were always a disappointment, super judgmental, and most of them simply wanted something from you. JJ was the exception.
After my parents died in a house fire when I was ten, JJ’s parents took me in. I had no other family, so his became mine. JJ knew me better than anyone.
“Okay, so you’ll be a little late. It’s a Christmas party at Scheherazade, invitation only, and I snagged us some. Please, Mason?”
With a heavy sigh, I nodded. “Okay, I can meet you in front of the club at eleven.”
JJ hugged me so tightly, I swore my bones cracked. I wasn’t a big guy. At five foot four, I weighed one hundred and twenty pounds. I loved food but no matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t bulk up, so I stopped working on it. Add in my dull brown eyes, and I really wasn’t anything to write home about. I had good hair, though—a perfect auburn color.
I loved my job at Books and Bistro and was on the fast track to becoming a manager. I just knew it. What more did a person need besides books, food, coffee, and comfy couches to read on? Nothing.
“Okay, love you, gotta run.” JJ rushed out of my apartment, likely late for his job. He had gotten a position at some law firm and was loving it. When he’d gone off to college, I’d decided not to. I’d been working at Books and Bistro ever since I graduated high school.
“See you later,” I shouted to the now-empty space.
My place was perfect for me, and honestly, I didn’t actually have to work. My parents had left me a life insurance policy, and my grandparents had set up a trust fund for me as well. I gave JJ’s parents the entire insurance settlement after my folks died, even though they said they didn’t want it. It was the least I could do.
I’d bought an apartment outright. It overlooked the river on one end and the city on the other. I had three bedrooms, a kitchen, and a comfy living room, so in truth, it was all I needed.
Yeah, I hated people, but I hated being lonely just as much…I was a conundrum, no question about it. Books and Bistro was like a second home for me—it filled my loneliness tank and kept my head above water.
My life was pretty good, and I couldn’t complain too much about it.
As soon as JJ and I entered Scheherazade, I deflated. I had never set foot inside the exclusive place, but what had kept my curiosity piqued was the expectation that the interior based its name on its origin. It did not. They clearly only liked the name Scheherazade and not the story behind the character.
“I know that look,” JJ shouted over the stupidly loud music.
“What look?”
He rolled his eyes. “You thought this club would be like the book One Thousand and One Nights, didn’t you?”
He did know me so well. “It’s just that I’d hoped maybe there’d be some Persian design, at least. But this place is no different than Club Rain or that other one that was a carbon copy of every other place you’ve dragged me to.”
“You’re being a bah humbug!” JJ playfully shoved my shoulder.
“There aren’t even any Christmas lights up. How is this a Christmas party?” He waved me over to follow him to the bar. The bartender wore a Santa hat, and JJ gave me a pointed look. “See?”
“Wow, you sure showed me,” I deadpanned.
JJ ignored me and ordered us each a holiday drink, and I scanned the entire area. There were so many bodies swaying, rubbing. I mean, was it dancing or sex?
“Drink.” He shoved a glass in my face. It was red, and the straw was designed to look like a candy cane.
I sipped the fruity and slightly minty drink and continued people-watching.
“Let’s dance.” JJ grabbed my arm, but I quickly pulled away.
“Absolutely not. I can barely walk without falling on my face. Why would you want me to go out there and murder people with my flailing limbs?”
“Dra. Mat. Ic!” He chugged his drink and placed the empty glass on the bar. “I’m dancing. Watch me and make sure no creeper tries to manhandle me.”
“You’d like it,” I joked.
I watched as the crowd pulled JJ in until he was part of the gyrating machine that embodied the entire club.
I could people-watch all day. No, I wasn’t a fan of mankind, but I loved coming up with stories in my head about them. I saw a woman between two men. Desperate to find her one true love, she willingly subjected herself to depravity to find him.
A man kissed another man near the DJ booth. They were aggressive in their touching, and I could picture them in a few hours, tumbling onto a bed, wrapped in each other and silk sheets. Making promises they’d surely end up breaking just so they could reach their climax.
“Jack and coke,” a deep, smooth voice beside me said, pulling me away from my internal storytelling.
Well. Damn. He was tall and built without being mountainous. He had a sweep going on in the front of his perfectly styled brown hair. Did I mention he was wearing all leather?
I was staring, and maybe sniffing, because holy hell, he smelled good.
His eyes met mine, and while lust pooled in my gut, fear began to settle in too. His eyes were dark, fathomless. As if they’d never seen light and vowed never to let it in. The furrow in his brow and his permafrown were quite off-putting. My brain was yelling at me to look away, but his eyes were like tractor beams, hypnotizing me with their intensity.
“What are you drinking?”
He was talking to me. Speak words, Mason.
“Uh, I’m not sure.”
He cocked his head. “You’re drinking something, and you have no idea what it is?”
I shrugged. “My friend bought it. I think it’s some holiday special.”
He turned to the bartender when his drink was handed to him. “Another holiday whatever that is, for this guy too.”
He bought me a drink? “Thanks. I’m Mason.” Yay for words.
“Gabe.” He sat on the stool, drink in hand, and scanned the room. While I never knew what I was looking for, Gabe seemed to be searching for something or someone in particular.
“Your Fruity Festivus,” the bartender said, and Gabe raised his brows.
“Thanks for humiliating me.” I narrowed my eyes at the giver of alcohol and took my drink. The bartender didn’t give a shit about embarrassing me.
“Is it good?” Gabe asked.
“Want to try it?” I held it under his nose, and he sniffed.
“Nah, I’m fine.”
Gabe returned to his searching, and I returned to my internal storytelling.
“Motherfucker.” The anger and disdain in Gabe’s tone had me leaning away from him. He jumped off the stool and turned to me. “I gotta talk to someone. I was thinking we’d maybe fuck later?”
Seriously? “Did you just ask me for a fuck? With no finesse at all?”
He peered over his shoulder at me. “No time to waste, am I right? So, yeah, I’ll be back in like five minutes.”
He didn’t give me a chance to answer. He was working his way through the dance floor toward some guy. As soon as he was on him, I noticed four others joined Gabe. Who the hell was this man?
The Teacher & the Soldier by RJ Scott
Only the darkening sky told Luke Fitzgerald what time it was. His cell was in the car with a dead battery and he never wore a watch. The evening was drawing in, and with it the familiar coolness of a fall night in the mountains, and if he wasn’t careful he would get caught in the regular evening rain he remembered from his childhood. Coming here, to Ellery, to the place he’d called home for the first eighteen years of his life, was something he had never thought he would do. Not all the time his dad had been alive anyway.
Leaning against the fence, he stared down at the town nestled in the V of the valley caused by Ellery Mountain and Mercury Peak. Where he had been able to see things clearly a few short minutes before, now everything was blurring in the deep grey-blue smudge of evening light. Luke tracked the car’s progress by its headlights as it left the town and made its way up into the mountain. There had been a few cars passing by today, but Luke was far enough away from the road that no one had stopped to ask him what the hell he was doing rooted to the same spot for hours.
Shifting his stance, Luke pulled away from the fence and stretched tall. His back ached, his head hurt and he felt like shit. Driving straight through for eight hours was possibly the worst decision he had made since he’d decided to come back to Ellery. His chiropractor was going to have a cow when he assessed the damage Luke was doing to the already heavy tension he carried through his back muscles and up into his neck.
The headlights shot momentarily through spaces in the fir trees on each bend. He identified it on the last bend as a cop car, the white standing out against the dark of the trees. When it pulled onto the shoulder next to his car, Luke wasn’t surprised. Cops were far more attuned to spotting cars parked off the main road. The lights of the car meant he didn’t get a good look at the cop until he was less than four paces away. The cop stood loose-hipped and with his hand resting on the weapon in his holster. Peering through the gloom to the cop’s face, Luke knew that fate was fucking with him. Not only had an Ellery cop found his hiding place, but that Ellery cop was Corporal Finn Ryan.
Finn Ryan in the flesh. The man who was so closely involved in the death of Luke’s dad. Christ. Way to slap what Luke had hoped to avoid right up in his face.
"Is there a problem, sir?" Finn asked firmly.
Luke pushed his clenched fists into his pockets and stilled the rising anxiety in him.
"No problem, officer," he said. "Just visiting town and spending a little time clearing my head after a long drive."
Finn took another step closer and a look of recognition passed over his face. Luke remembered Finn as tall, dark and rangy as hell, although his memories were of a boy of fifteen, not one of…what would it be now? Twenty-four? He’d been five years younger than Luke if he remembered correctly. Luke really didn’t want to remember anything about Ellery.
"Luke?" Finn looked momentarily taken aback before regaining his posture.
"Hi, Finn."
They’d not been friends in school, just people who knew each other by sight. Luke was at college whilst Finn was still a freshman. Of course Finn, being a resident, would have heard all the rumours about him and his dad. Hell, he probably knew everything that had happened. Familiar resentment built inside Luke. He was bigger than that, bigger than his dad’s abuse, or his mom’s abandonment, bigger than this town. He would not let this place drag him down again however hard they tried.
"You missed the funeral," Finn offered. There was no accusation in his voice. He was simply making a statement and one that hung in the air with no possible answer Luke could give. Or at least not one that didn’t involve reiterating the contents of two years of counselling sessions and eight years of living his life.
"Busy," was all Luke eventually offered in response. Finn didn’t call him on the excuse.
"You’ve been up here a while, Luke. Widow Jenn called it in. Said a stranger had been standing here for hours and he was just staring down at town."
Luke shrugged. He couldn’t deny the hours had passed as he’d gazed down at the town and the tiny distant shapes of gravestones in the far churchyard of St Jeremiahs. He had deliberately stayed up here until darkness had begun to creep over the mountain. Call it self-preservation but there was no way he was driving into Ellery in the daylight. He changed the subject.
"Widow Jenn is still alive?" he said. Finn took the change of subject in his stride and nodded.
"Ninety-eight and thriving on ten a day with a glass of whisky," he said.
"She still has those binoculars?" Luke snorted a laugh. Widow Jenn was one of the more colourful characters in the town and when he was younger she’d had her fingers in so many pies—evidently that hadn’t changed.
A.M. Arthur was born and raised in the same kind of small town that she likes to write about, a stone's throw from both beach resorts and generational farmland. She's been creating stories in her head since she was a child and scribbling them down nearly as long, in a losing battle to make the fictional voices stop. She credits an early fascination with male friendships (bromance hadn't been coined yet back then) with her later discovery of and subsequent love affair with m/m romance stories. A.M. Arthur's work is available from Carina Press, SMP Swerve, and Briggs-King Books.
When not exorcising the voices in her head, she toils away in a retail job that tests her patience and gives her lots of story fodder. She can also be found in her kitchen, pretending she's an amateur chef and trying to not poison herself or others with her cuisine experiments.
K. Evan Coles is a mother and tech pirate by day and a writer by night. She is a dreamer who, with a little hard work and a lot of good coffee, coaxes words out of her head and onto paper.
K. lives in the northeast United States, where she complains bitterly about the winters, but truly loves the region and its diverse, tenacious and deceptively compassionate people. You’ll usually find K. nerding out over books, movies and television with friends and family. She’s especially proud to be raising her son as part of a new generation of unabashed geeks.
K.’s books explore LGBTQ+ romance in contemporary settings.
Brigham Vaughn
Brigham Vaughn is on the adventure of a lifetime as a full-time writer. She devours books at an alarming rate and hasn’t let her short arms and long torso stop her from doing yoga. She makes a killer key lime pie, hates green peppers, and loves wine tasting tours. A collector of vintage Nancy Drew books and green glassware, she enjoys poking around in antique shops and refinishing thrift store furniture. An avid photographer, she dreams of traveling the world and she can’t wait to discover everything else life has to offer her.
Lacey DaizeLacey lives in New Mexico with her four critters. She’s a Jill-of-all-trades by day, but loves writing in her spare time. She dabbles in a variety of pairings, but jumped feet-first into the deep end of omegaverse the first time she read it. She loves the play on social expectations and the different ways to express romance.
Davidson King, always had a hope that someday her daydreams would become real-life stories. As a child, you would often find her in her own world, thinking up the most insane situations. It may have taken her awhile, but she made her dream come true with her first published work, Snow Falling.
When she's not writing you can find her blogging away on Diverse Reader, her review and promotional site. She managed to wrangle herself a husband who matched her crazy and they hatched three wonderful children.
If you were to ask her what gave her the courage to finally publish, she'd tell you it was her amazing family and friends. Support is vital in all things and when you're afraid of your dreams, it will be your cheering section that will lift you up.
Writing love stories with a happy ever after – cowboys, heroes, family, hockey, single dads, bodyguards
USA Today bestselling author RJ Scott has written over one hundred romance books. Emotional stories of complicated characters, cowboys, single dads, hockey players, millionaires, princes, bodyguards, Navy SEALs, soldiers, doctors, paramedics, firefighters, cops, and the men who get mixed up in their lives, always with a happy ever after.
She lives just outside London and spends every waking minute she isn’t with family either reading or writing. The last time she had a week’s break from writing, she didn’t like it one little bit, and she has yet to meet a box of chocolates she couldn’t defeat.
AM Arthur
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Brigham Vaughn
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Lacey Daize
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The World as He Sees It by AM Arthur
Wake by K Evan Coles & Brigham Vaughn
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The Teacher & the Soldier by RJ Scott
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