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In honor of Father's Day here in the US this coming Sunday, I wanted to showcase stories with strong, influential father figures. Some aren't necessarily a lengthy factor in the story, perhaps it's even just one chapter, or a flashback, a memory, etc. Some are not even fatherly to MCs. The father figure has however, left a lasting impression on the characters, the story, and the reader. For Father's Day 2024, this post features 5 stories I felt had fathers-from-hell, or at the very least is definitely not in the good dad category. 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. If you have any recommendations for bad father 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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His Grandfather's Watch by NR Walker
Summary:It was just an ordinary day for Alex Harper at Harper's Antiquities, until Callum Winters walked in with a watch.
"It was my Grandfather's. I was hoping you could tell me something about it."
A love story of two couples, generations apart.
***Second Edition. Earlier edition released in 2012. No additional content has been added.***
This novella may be a short quick read but it is more powerful than many full length novels I have read. I was sitting in my front yard under the shade of my maple tree and was so glad I had sunglasses on because otherwise I probably would have scared the children playing across the street when the tears started running. The blend of contemporary and historical is perfect for the emotional buildup for the story the watch represents.
The historical part of the watch's tale touched my heart a bit more but I am a bit of a history buff so stories of the past usually do. As my mother's 24/7 caregiver for the past 20 years, when Callum said "My life hasn't been about me in a long time" really struck a chord because in those 10 words she summed up what every caregiver lives not to mention the kind of man Callum is and the fact that Alex understands it also goes a long way in describing his character as well.
I rarely give novellas a full 5 bookmark rating just because my heart prefers full length stories but this is such a powerful emotional ride that nothing short of the full 5 is fitting.
Re-Read Review September 2018:
I really can't think of a single thing to add to my original review that would express how wonderful this novella is other than, it's shortness may be in the number of pages but not in the quality of the story. His Grandfather's Watch had me even more teary-eyed now than it did when I first read it three years ago. It is rare that you get two heart felt love stories in a novella but that is exactly what this little gem brings to the table.
I chose to re-read this now in honor of Grandparents Day but whenever you decide to pick it up you won't regret it and I highly recommend reading this one because not only will you be entertained but you might also learn a thing or two about understanding your family's past. I know I can honestly say that had I not already been deeply invested in my family genealogy this story would have had me itching to discover my family's past.
I really can't think of a single thing to add to my original review that would express how wonderful this novella is other than, it's shortness may be in the number of pages but not in the quality of the story. His Grandfather's Watch had me even more teary-eyed now than it did when I first read it three years ago. It is rare that you get two heart felt love stories in a novella but that is exactly what this little gem brings to the table.
I chose to re-read this now in honor of Grandparents Day but whenever you decide to pick it up you won't regret it and I highly recommend reading this one because not only will you be entertained but you might also learn a thing or two about understanding your family's past. I know I can honestly say that had I not already been deeply invested in my family genealogy this story would have had me itching to discover my family's past.
2nd Re-Read Review November 2020:
This story just keeps getting better with each read. A well balanced story of "Oh no!" and "Oh yay!" I know I mentioned it in my original review but as I read it now for National Family Caregiver Month, I feel I need to point it out again: When Callum says, "My life hasn't been about me in a long time" that sums up how I feel, how I've felt for the past 25 years. Don't get me wrong, I am honored and blessed to be my mom's 24/7 caregiver(and my grandmother's before she died) but it is an unending job, there is no timecard to punch in and out. Some days I have time, some I don't but it's all consuming and with those 10 little words, the author sums up what we as caregivers all feel and for that I can only say "Thank You, NR Walker" because too many people don't get that. I mention it originally and again because with that one phrase made up of 10 small itty bitty words, the author created a connection for me to all the characters, not just Callum but each and every one in the story.
If you haven't read His Grandfather's Watch, I highly recommend doing so, it's short on quantity but packed to the rafters on quality. It's hard to connect with characters in a novella/short story because of the story length(or lack thereof) in general but for an author to really give their reader 2 love stories in a novella, well that is an achievement of talent. A delightful gem not to be missed.
RATING:
A Trick of the Light by Ellie Thomas
Summary:Kenneth Taylor has bright plans for a future as an engineer. In the summer of 1957, as soon as he returns home to Bristol from two years of National Service in the Royal Signals, a furious row with his dad means he’s thrown out of the house, and his prospects are in jeopardy.
He finds lodgings in the hilltop, bomb-damaged suburb of Kingsdown, determined to be independent and juggling night school with his humdrum day job. He soon meets Gino, the good-looking son of a local café owner and is thrilled when the attraction proves to be mutual. As their romance blooms, Kenneth finds unexpected encouragement from an apparition in the mirror who inhabited the house in the late 18th century.
When the ghostly vision of Kit also appears to Kenneth in his dreams, it seems they have much in common when Kit reveals his dilemma at a similar age, concerning his growing attachment to a young man, Ned. Past and present intermingle as Kenneth faces parallel and difficult decisions. But can he trust Kit? Or is it all merely a trick of the light?
Original Review August 2023:
Ellie Thomas is a new-to-me author which can cause trepidation in some but not me, it adds another layer of anticipation and adrenaline to my reading experience. Not only am I feeling those emotions that come with a fresh read but also heightens them with questions of "Can this author keep me hooked?" "Will this lead me to check out their backlist creating huge new numbers on my TBR list?".
Well I was and it did😉.
Historical ✅
Paranormal ✅
Friendship ✅
Family drama ✅
Romance ✅
Cheering for MCs ✅✅
Heart ✅✅✅✅✅
A Trick of the Light by Ellie Thomas ticked so many of my boxes and seeing as it's a novella that isn't always easy to do or happens often. How could I not like this great little ditty?
I really loved Kenneth and Gino and talk about wanting to wrap a character in bubblewrap & huge Mama Bear hugs until they smile and know everything is going to be okay. Kenneth has so many around him that supports his path but his dad is so set on him following in his footsteps that he can't see what he's pushing away. One thing that I especially found amazing was the support from Kenneth's mom, whether she is able to make her husband have a change of heart is something you have to discover for yourself but standing up to him and openly supporting their son is not often seen in that era. Don't get me wrong, women weren't as subservient as many would have you believe but they weren't always openly forward either and certainly not in fiction. So to show that level of Mama Bear in the 1950s, quite honestly lifted this book from great to brilliant for me.
As for the paranormal element? Perhaps it's not as prevalent as one might think from the blurb, at least not in page time but those scenes are very powerful. The figure in the mirror offers Kenneth a glimpse of what could be missed which in turn gives him an extra layer of courage to stay true to himself.
A Trick of the Light may not be big on quantity but it's overflowing on quality. A real gem and I definitely look forward to checking out Ellie Thomas' backlist, my TBR List may not thank me but I can only follow where my reading mojo takes me and the author's backlist is definitely in my journey.
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.
Summer Drifter by RJ Scott
Summary:Whisper Ridge, Wyoming #2
One man craves family, the other isolation; neither of them was searching for love.
Experienced and much-in-demand horse trainer Levi doesn't need or want people. With his horse and dog at his side, he lives out of his trailer and trains horses in the summer to earn just enough to head south for winter. Infrequent hook-ups with no-tell cowboys takes care of sex, but the moment any connection gets anywhere near complicated, he moves on. Losing a lover to violence has taught him that if he's alone he can't get hurt, and in return, he avoids the pain of loss. Everything in his easy-going life is on track until he knocks over Quinn, a pink-haired stranger who pirouettes in front of his truck, sits in his lap and calls him cowboy with the sexiest voice he's ever heard. Anger turns to frustration, lust turns to love, and by the end of the summer, Levi doesn't know which way to turn.
Quinn loses everything when the cops find his brother's body on the remains of a compound that belonged to a cult. Damaged and vulnerable, Max had been the only safe place for Quinn in his otherwise cold family, but finding out that Max might have had a son sends Quinn to Wyoming and the Lennox Ranch. When he's knocked to the ground on day one at the ranch, he wonders if maybe he should have thought things through better. After all, he'd bought two horses and a house to get close enough to Lennox ranch just to see if he was an uncle. He craves love, connection and is excited to be part of a family, searching for a place where he can finally stop running. He never meant to fall for the closed-off cowboy, but somehow Levi steals his heart and Quinn falls in love.
Original Review April 2024:
I have no excuses for why it took my nearly 3 years to read Summer Drifter. I loved the first book in the Whisper Ridge, Wyoming series, Winter Cowboy, when it first released back in 2018 and I remember being ecstatic to find book 2 was finally coming. When I say "finally" I don't begrudge the author on the delay because the author can only go where the characters take them and I respect that, I use "finally" only to express the level of YAY I was experiencing. If you must have a reason so that you don't think I was disappointed in the blurb here it is: in 2020 I turned to more viewing forms of distraction to get through Covid and it really put a whopper of a kibosh on my reading mojo which if I'm 100% honest has only just returned to any semblance of pre-pandemic levels and the summer of 2021 found my mother in hospital and me in a hotel for 108 days(non-covid reasons) so there were many books that normally would have been immediate reads finding themselves nearly buried in my never-ending TBR list.
So back to Summer Drifter.
As stated above the delay had nothing to do with unhappiness with the book blurb, truth is, though I think in my heart Micah and Daniel will forever hold the top spot in the Whisper Ridge shelf I do think this overall story drew me in more. I think that all comes down to the "cowboy norms" being a bit knocked on it's side when it comes to Quinn and Levi and their personalities, in and out of the bedroom. I've read others where they don't always follow the stereotypical guidelines(for lack of a better, simpler phrase) but there was just something about these two men that I found refreshing. Maybe it was the blending of stereotyping and knocked on their backside that did it, a certain level of what I call snark and cuddle, or maybe it was just because the anticipation and adrenaline rush from having waited so long? Whatever "it" was, "it" blew me away.
As for Levi and Quinn? There are definite moments of lack-of-communication drama but I get it, I understand that neither exactly have the history that screams "Open up to him!" "Be honest!" "He(or they in Quinn's case of wanting to see connections to his deceased brother) will understand!". Let's face it, without drama life can be boring and without fictional drama books can be vacation pamphlets. Quinn may be a fish out of water at the Lennox Ranch but his free spirit is something we can all use a little of in our lives. Levi guards his heart by not letting anyone in but when a certain pink-haired stranger falls in his lap Levi is in trouble. Together they may look opposites attract but deep down the things that made them protect their hearts and family is what proves they may not be as opposite as appearances thought.
Summer Drifter may have been a long time wait for me but boy was it worth it and I'm so glad I didn't let it fall further down my TBR list. A winning gem all the way around.
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.
His Grandfather's Watch by NR Walker
Chapter One
Sitting in the back room at my desk, with a dismantled 1901 Newman's clock, I heard the bell that chimed every time a customer walked through the door. My dad was behind the counter, and I heard him greet the customer, making small talk, discussing whatever antique it was they'd brought with them.
It's what we did.
My father's love of all things antique grew into this business, Harper's Antiquities. Dad was the expert and Mom did the research, but they both traveled, scouring the globe for their life's passion. My brother Scott did antique furniture restoration, but it wasn't something I ever saw myself doing. Then I started helping out when I was a kid at school, and I found a love of clocks.
It’s my specialty.
I could hear Dad talking to the customer, but didn't pay them any mind until I heard my name.
"Alex?"
Putting down the part in my hand, I walked through to the showroom where I found my father and the customer he was talking to. Very different from my pale skin, black hair and grayish eyes, he was a good looking guy, similar age to me, but with sandy brown, kinda longish hair, tanned skin and blue eyes. He was holding a pocket watch in his hand.
"This is my son, Alex," Dad explained. "He's the expert on watches like yours."
I extended my hand in professional courtesy. "Hello."
"Callum Winters," he said by way of greeting, putting the watch on the counter before shaking my hand. There was an accent, Southern I thought, but I wasn't sure.
Dad waited for us to let go of each other's hands, then he looked at me and smiled. "Callum was just telling me he'd like to know more about this watch."
I looked at the silver watch casing and fob chain, then at its owner. I reached my hand toward the watch, but before I touched it, I asked, "May I?"
"Sure," he nodded.
Picking it up, I could tell a few things from a visual inspection. "This casing was a popular design in the 1940's," I told him. Gently, I opened the casing to reveal the quartz face. "The dial is Hamilton, but I won't know dates or maker for certain, unless I take the back off and look at the movement."
"Could you do that?" he asked. His accent was definitely southern. "I was hoping to know as much about it as I could."
I smiled. "Sure. I'll need to grab some details, and I should be able to look at it in about two days. Then I can tell you everything I know."
Callum nodded. "That'd be great." We looked at each other for a little too long, and I couldn't help but wonder if this cute, Southern man was gay.
Dad seemed to think so, because with a cheeky smirk, he handed me the register log, looked between us and not-so subtly said, "Callum, I'll leave you in Alex's very capable hands." He pointed behind us, "I have... stuff... I need to do out the back."
Callum politely thanked him, and I considered kicking my father in the shins. We were behind the counter, so it's not like Callum would have seen me do it. But Dad must have picked up on the look I gave him, because he smiled, turned quickly and disappeared through the door.
I grabbed a pen, handed Callum the register and asked him to fill in his details. I picked up the watch, turning it over in my hands. It was a nice piece, and I couldn't help but ask, "What do you know about the watch?"
He looked up from the paperwork. "Um, it was my grandfather's. That's about all I know."
He handed me the completed form, and I told him as procedure, I required some ID. Taking out his wallet, he handed me his driver's licence. His Texas driver's licence.
"I just moved here," he said. "I've got my change of address receipt here somewhere."
He started looking through his wallet, and I stopped him. "No, its fine. I just need to sight photo ID, that's all."
He smiled kindly and nodded. "So, two days?"
"Yeah. I'm half way through another job. Then I can look at this, and I'll give you a call when I'm done," I told him. "Is there anything in particular you're looking for?"
He shrugged one shoulder and shook his head. "No, not really. Just dates, make, model... to be honest, I'm not really sure."
As I was putting the watch and paperwork in a paper envelope, I asked him, "Would you like a valuation?"
"No," he said simply. "Monetary value isn't important."
He thanked me, I told him I'd be in touch and he left. When I walked back into the workshop, Dad grinned at me. "He was a nice young man," he said.
"Mom!" I yelled to the upstairs office, where my mother would have undoubtedly had her head in a catalogue. "Dad's trying to set me up again."
She yelled back, "Was he cute?"
Oh for crying out loud.
He was actually, but that's not the point. Dad chuckled at me.
Ignoring him, I sat the pocket watch on my desk and turned my attention back to the clock I was working on.
I managed to ignore both my parents and their comments about cute, brown-haired watch owners until they got bored and left me alone. And I managed to push the thoughts of the pocket watch and its handsome Texan owner out of my mind until it was time to go home.
I arrived back at work a little before nine in the morning and headed straight for my desk, which was more like a workstation, when the paper sleeve holding the pocket watch caught my eye.
I picked it up and took the watch out, feeling the cool, heavy weight of it in my hand. I didn't hear my dad come up behind me, and his voice startled me. "How's Mr. Yeo's clock coming along?"
"Oh, shit! You scared me," I said with a laugh, clutching my heart. Then looking back to the clock I had half done, I told him, "Um, it should be ready by lunchtime tomorrow."
He nodded thoughtfully. "I think you should do the watch instead."
I looked at the pocket watch I was still holding. "Why?"
"Because Mr. Yeo is a collector," he replied with a shrug. "To him that clock is just something else he acquired. Even old Mr. Yeo will tell you that. But this," he pointed to the watch in my hand, "this means something."
Dad smiled at me. "Mr. Yeo can wait a day or two. He won't mind. I'll even phone him myself."
"Are you sure?" I asked.
He nodded. "He wants me to go with him to look at an 18th Century hand-carved Italian rococo centre table he'd seen at an auction house anyway, so I need to speak to him."
"Okay," I agreed. Within twenty minutes, I had Mr. Yeo's clock itemized and put away and the silver pocket watch in front of me.
I made my usual notes as I proceeded detailing. There was nothing remarkable about it, until I removed the back casing.
Because what I found hidden in the back of the pocket watch was unlike anything I'd encountered before.
I took out the client form with Callum Winters' details on it and picked up the phone. "Callum Winters? It's Alex, from Harper Antiquities. I'm calling about your watch."
"Yes?" he answered, unsure.
"Can you come into the store?" I asked. "There's something you need to see."
Sitting in the back room at my desk, with a dismantled 1901 Newman's clock, I heard the bell that chimed every time a customer walked through the door. My dad was behind the counter, and I heard him greet the customer, making small talk, discussing whatever antique it was they'd brought with them.
It's what we did.
My father's love of all things antique grew into this business, Harper's Antiquities. Dad was the expert and Mom did the research, but they both traveled, scouring the globe for their life's passion. My brother Scott did antique furniture restoration, but it wasn't something I ever saw myself doing. Then I started helping out when I was a kid at school, and I found a love of clocks.
It’s my specialty.
I could hear Dad talking to the customer, but didn't pay them any mind until I heard my name.
"Alex?"
Putting down the part in my hand, I walked through to the showroom where I found my father and the customer he was talking to. Very different from my pale skin, black hair and grayish eyes, he was a good looking guy, similar age to me, but with sandy brown, kinda longish hair, tanned skin and blue eyes. He was holding a pocket watch in his hand.
"This is my son, Alex," Dad explained. "He's the expert on watches like yours."
I extended my hand in professional courtesy. "Hello."
"Callum Winters," he said by way of greeting, putting the watch on the counter before shaking my hand. There was an accent, Southern I thought, but I wasn't sure.
Dad waited for us to let go of each other's hands, then he looked at me and smiled. "Callum was just telling me he'd like to know more about this watch."
I looked at the silver watch casing and fob chain, then at its owner. I reached my hand toward the watch, but before I touched it, I asked, "May I?"
"Sure," he nodded.
Picking it up, I could tell a few things from a visual inspection. "This casing was a popular design in the 1940's," I told him. Gently, I opened the casing to reveal the quartz face. "The dial is Hamilton, but I won't know dates or maker for certain, unless I take the back off and look at the movement."
"Could you do that?" he asked. His accent was definitely southern. "I was hoping to know as much about it as I could."
I smiled. "Sure. I'll need to grab some details, and I should be able to look at it in about two days. Then I can tell you everything I know."
Callum nodded. "That'd be great." We looked at each other for a little too long, and I couldn't help but wonder if this cute, Southern man was gay.
Dad seemed to think so, because with a cheeky smirk, he handed me the register log, looked between us and not-so subtly said, "Callum, I'll leave you in Alex's very capable hands." He pointed behind us, "I have... stuff... I need to do out the back."
Callum politely thanked him, and I considered kicking my father in the shins. We were behind the counter, so it's not like Callum would have seen me do it. But Dad must have picked up on the look I gave him, because he smiled, turned quickly and disappeared through the door.
I grabbed a pen, handed Callum the register and asked him to fill in his details. I picked up the watch, turning it over in my hands. It was a nice piece, and I couldn't help but ask, "What do you know about the watch?"
He looked up from the paperwork. "Um, it was my grandfather's. That's about all I know."
He handed me the completed form, and I told him as procedure, I required some ID. Taking out his wallet, he handed me his driver's licence. His Texas driver's licence.
"I just moved here," he said. "I've got my change of address receipt here somewhere."
He started looking through his wallet, and I stopped him. "No, its fine. I just need to sight photo ID, that's all."
He smiled kindly and nodded. "So, two days?"
"Yeah. I'm half way through another job. Then I can look at this, and I'll give you a call when I'm done," I told him. "Is there anything in particular you're looking for?"
He shrugged one shoulder and shook his head. "No, not really. Just dates, make, model... to be honest, I'm not really sure."
As I was putting the watch and paperwork in a paper envelope, I asked him, "Would you like a valuation?"
"No," he said simply. "Monetary value isn't important."
He thanked me, I told him I'd be in touch and he left. When I walked back into the workshop, Dad grinned at me. "He was a nice young man," he said.
"Mom!" I yelled to the upstairs office, where my mother would have undoubtedly had her head in a catalogue. "Dad's trying to set me up again."
She yelled back, "Was he cute?"
Oh for crying out loud.
He was actually, but that's not the point. Dad chuckled at me.
Ignoring him, I sat the pocket watch on my desk and turned my attention back to the clock I was working on.
I managed to ignore both my parents and their comments about cute, brown-haired watch owners until they got bored and left me alone. And I managed to push the thoughts of the pocket watch and its handsome Texan owner out of my mind until it was time to go home.
*****
I arrived back at work a little before nine in the morning and headed straight for my desk, which was more like a workstation, when the paper sleeve holding the pocket watch caught my eye.
I picked it up and took the watch out, feeling the cool, heavy weight of it in my hand. I didn't hear my dad come up behind me, and his voice startled me. "How's Mr. Yeo's clock coming along?"
"Oh, shit! You scared me," I said with a laugh, clutching my heart. Then looking back to the clock I had half done, I told him, "Um, it should be ready by lunchtime tomorrow."
He nodded thoughtfully. "I think you should do the watch instead."
I looked at the pocket watch I was still holding. "Why?"
"Because Mr. Yeo is a collector," he replied with a shrug. "To him that clock is just something else he acquired. Even old Mr. Yeo will tell you that. But this," he pointed to the watch in my hand, "this means something."
Dad smiled at me. "Mr. Yeo can wait a day or two. He won't mind. I'll even phone him myself."
"Are you sure?" I asked.
He nodded. "He wants me to go with him to look at an 18th Century hand-carved Italian rococo centre table he'd seen at an auction house anyway, so I need to speak to him."
"Okay," I agreed. Within twenty minutes, I had Mr. Yeo's clock itemized and put away and the silver pocket watch in front of me.
I made my usual notes as I proceeded detailing. There was nothing remarkable about it, until I removed the back casing.
Because what I found hidden in the back of the pocket watch was unlike anything I'd encountered before.
I took out the client form with Callum Winters' details on it and picked up the phone. "Callum Winters? It's Alex, from Harper Antiquities. I'm calling about your watch."
"Yes?" he answered, unsure.
"Can you come into the store?" I asked. "There's something you need to see."
A Trick of the Light by Ellie Thomas
Kenneth got in the habit of dropping into the café when not in a rush for the bus. It wasn’t only the charms of the waiter but the hospitable atmosphere of the family-owned establishment that helped him pine less for his mum and sister.
Despite unprepossessing beginnings, his room on Kingsdown Parade was starting to take shape. The hilltop area might be a bit worn and battered, but he had all he needed nearby and was grateful for the convenience of the Co-op store at the top of the road. Also, his mum had sneaked a few items to give to Pamela to pass on to him, so his digs looked a bit more homely.
But as autumn began, he had to admit he was cold. He only switched on the two-bar electric fire for a short while in the evenings as he couldn’t afford to keep the electric meter ticking over too fast. One blustery Saturday afternoon, when his fingers nearly froze as he sat at the desk in front of the draughty windows trying to complete his homework, he decided he needed a change of scene.
Grabbing his bag of dirty washing to take to the launderette, he snagged his satchel and required textbooks and headed off down the hill. Once his laundry was in the machine, and the woman on duty kindly promised to put the wet load into the drier, he crossed the road to the café. He hoped that by now, he was enough of a regular customer to get away with ordering only the milky coffee he’d acquired a taste for.
He’d missed the lunchtime rush and was glad he’d had a sandwich at home beforehand since the scent of hot food was always tempting. Instead of the waiter, it was a girl who served Kenneth today. She looked young enough to still be in school, most likely expected to help out at the weekends, the resemblance to her brother evident in her dark eyes, olive skin, and wide smile.
She didn’t quibble at his order of coffee, so Kenneth arranged his books on the table and started to study. He was so focused on his calculations that he was taken aback when a voice asked, “Would you like a top-up?”
He looked up from his exercise book to see the waiter smiling down at him. Hesitating, he started to scrabble in his pocket for any change remaining from his trip to the launderette when the waiter said, “It’s alright. It’s on the house.” With another smile, he took the cup and saucer, allowing Kenneth to admire his departing backside.
When the waiter returned, he seemed inclined to chat further, asking, “What are you studying, then?”
“Engineering,” Kenneth replied. “Well, the bare bones of it anyway.”
“Smart fellow,” the waiter retorted, raising his elegantly arched eyebrows. “Dad would like me to study,” he said with a nod to the man behind the counter. “But I’m flat-out here most days, and anyway, I'm not brainy enough,” he added with an eloquent shrug of his shoulders. It seemed unfair to Kenneth that someone so attractive and personable should lack confidence in his ability. Without pausing to feel self-consciously tongue-tied, Kenneth replied, “If you can remember every order and give the right change all day, every day, then you must be savvy. There’s plenty of education growing up and working in a café."
“Maybe so,” the waiter agreed with that charming smile.
He seemed about to continue the conversation when a call came from the counter. “Gino, service for table two!”
“Speak of the devil,” he said. His smile deepened as he lingered.
“Doesn’t your dad need you?” Kenneth asked. As soon as the comment was out of his mouth, he wished he hadn’t spoken aloud.
“Nah, my sister’s helping too, so there’s no rush,” Gino replied. “Dad would soon let me know if it’s urgent. And anyway, I’m not usually in the habit of dawdling at the tables chatting up pretty boys, so I’m sure he’ll let me off this once,” he added with a dazzling grin as Kenneth felt a blush rising over his face to his hairline.
“Arrivo, Papa,” Gino called over his shoulder, before sauntering back towards the counter with a distinct sway of his hips.
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.
Summer Drifter by RJ Scott
Chapter One
Quinn
Last Fall
“Alexander.”
“Quinn,” I corrected my father.
His lips thinned at the deliberate slight. I was named for an entire family tree of Alexanders, each one of them more messed up than the one before. I’d taken to using my middle name as a way of distancing myself from painful memories, and from a family I didn’t belong to.
I took a seat on the empty side of the conference table, facing my father, Alexander Dawson Senior, former senator, liar, abuser, and head of Dawson Pharma, plus his lawyer, a conniving asshole called Yan. My mouth was dry, my stomach heaving, my chest tight, but I took a breath and tucked my hair behind my ear. My father’s eyes narrowed at the gesture and that simple reaction helped me to center myself. I’d dyed it the brightest purple I could find, my eyes were smoky with liner, and my lips berry-red, this was me—the me my father hated.
Hate might’ve been a strong word, but it wasn’t as though he loathed me in a way that was fixable, where one day we’d magically make up, hold hands, and skip around declaring our rediscovered connection. He detested me for the fact I wasn’t his biological son, although he’d never admit it and the fact I was gay.
I’d hated him right back for the longest time, despite years of therapy. But if I was going to survive then I had to shut my heart to my toxic family, and I would be done. We’d buried my brother seven days ago, and as soon as the earth fell on him I was finished with the life that had been carefully planned for me. Maybe it was the way my father stood by the grave and showed no sign of emotion, or it could have been that I’d finally gotten through the fog that surround me, but I’d gone through my life in a daze, manipulated by my parents, expectation laid on me so thick I couldn’t breathe.
“You want to tell us what the fuck you want, Alexander?” my father asked, lifting a brow in question. He wanted me to be the silent shareholder, supporting his votes, working the fact that the Dawson family still had the majority share in Dawson Pharma.
Well, they did until thirty minutes ago.
“Will your lawyer be joining us?” Yan peered at the door as if he was expecting someone to enter.
“No.” I didn’t need a lawyer for what I was doing here—hell, the team I’d hired was busy dispersing money right now.
“Is that wise?” the lawyer commented, and then glanced at his boss who rolled his eyes. My father was not a subtle man. “We’re not aware of any issues that need addressing.”
“Yan, you wouldn’t believe the issues I have here, but none of them need a lawyer sitting next to me.” My heart pounded as I fronted them. “I think you should leave.”
My father snorted a laugh and stared at me. “He’s not going anywhere.” I knew my father better than most people did. I’d seen him at his worst, and I knew that tone—it was dripping with contempt. My fight-or-flight instincts kicked in, terror lodging in my chest, but I forced myself to breathe through it.
He can’t hurt me anymore.
“I’ve sold every single one of my shares in Dawson Pharma, including the ones I inherited from Max’s estate. Twenty-two percent in total. Gone.”
A muscle twitched by my father’s eye, shock clear as day in his expression, and then his jaw tightened, and he sneered at me.
“The fuck you have,” he snapped.
“Antitrust,” Yan offered immediately.
“No,” I said with calm. “There are no antitrust issues. Williams, Byers, and Green are seeing to that.”
Yan paled at the name of the prestigious firm of antitrust lawyers. Even with his own team, plus the million dollar retainer I know my father paid him, he was small fry compared to them. Yan glanced at my father, and his expression was desperate when he faced me again. “We’re prepared to pay over the offer you accepted—”
“The fuck we are,” my father roared. “Get the hell out of here, Yan.”
“As your representation I—”
“I said leave.”
Yan looked as if he was going to argue again, but then he left me and my father alone. Alexander Dawson Senior never took his eyes off me as he stood, and I stared right back, aware of how far I was from the exit and that there was security I could call if this went south. He stalked around the table to me, but I held up a hand.
He vibrated with anger, this big bear of a man who was half a foot taller than me and fifty pounds heavier—a ticking time bomb of fury.
“What did you do, boy?”
“Sold every single share.”
“You waste of fucking space!” my father snarled, but then his anger gave way to a practised smugness. “You won’t have the time to spend any of that money when I take you for every penny you made.” Threatening anything with money was his go-to step when his entire world revolved around the almighty dollar. Without the shares that myself and Max held, he wouldn’t own the board anymore, and the way he stared at me, I know he was fully aware of that fact. He was trying to regain control, thinking he could work his way around the law and get back the shares. I’d seen him do things like that before, which is why Williams, Byers, and Green were in my corner.
I feigned a calm. “That threat only works when I actually want the money I made, but every single cent is currently being dispersed to charities.”
“Why would you do that to your family?”
“Is that the same family that sent me to a camp? Or the father who hit me so hard I lost consciousness, who broke my arm, tried to kill me when I was eight—“
The time bomb exploded, and he grabbed me by the throat and pushed me up against the wall, my feet leaving the floor. Blackness consumed me, and I saw stars when my head hit the paneling. Now this was the father I knew, the horrific demon inside the urbane businessman who could trick everyone else. This was the man one who abused my brother and I with hands and words since I was old enough to understand pain.
“I will fucking destroy you,” he roared. He tightened his grip and I saw spots in my vision, but my words were nothing more than a whisper. He released me so fast I hit the floor hard and my hands went to my throat, pressing the pain he’d caused, just to ground myself.
“You don’t scare me!” I choked for a breath as tears of pain filled my eyes. “I can… prison… fuck you.”
Maybe prison was enough of a trigger word to break through his hatred and he went straight for verbal abuse as a defense.
“Fucking waste of space. Look at you crying,” he sneered, as I tried to breathe. “You’re as weak as Max was.”
“He was a better person than you will ever be.” I wasn’t going to let this monster know my pain at hearing my brother’s name spat with such venom.
“Fucking queer,” he yelled in my face, but there was fear in him; I could almost smell it.
I stood my ground. Name-calling was the last resort, and I’d heard way worse in my years under his roof. I wasn’t going to lie down and take his shit anymore because it was poison and I’d been slowly dying.
“I have enough on you to put you inside for a very long time. Names, dates, pictures of what you did to me, evidence of the shit you’ve pulled. You come near me, and I will release every single fucked up secret behind Dawson Pharma doors.” I straightened my back.
“You little shit, you can’t—”
“We’re done.” I backed out of the door and stalked past my dad’s bewildered PA, then headed to the rear exit and stepped out into the cool Boston fall. Even though my emotions crashed and burned the tears still didn’t fall.
I caught a flash in my peripheral vision, and winced, thinking the paparazzi had realised I would leave through the back entrance, but it was just the sun glinting off the huge monstrosity that was the head office of Dawson Pharma. My fear of getting photographed, or hurt, was real, and I took random sidewalks to reach my car in the underground parking lot three blocks from the office, before locking myself inside. Too many times the media had tracked me for something that my father had done, and I was finished with it all.
I couldn’t do it anymore.
And the tears fell.
From icy control I couldn’t stop crying, gripping the wheel for support and letting years of pain and grief well up and roll down my face in burning tears. I wanted Max back with every beat of my desperately miserable heart, and I’d held hope for so long, thinking Max would come home, but he hadn’t. My brother was dead and the hope was gone. Everything was gone.
A loud thump hit the window, and a man peered in. He wouldn’t be able to see me through the tinted glass but I hated that he was even near me.
“Fuck you,” I shouted. I didn’t recognize him, and fear knifed through me. I didn’t know all the media vultures by sight, and I was alone in a dimly lit parking area and this could be anyone out to hurt me, because of my name or money.
“I’m here to help you,” the man called, then knocked again. “My name is Connor.”
“Leave me the fuck alone!” I started the engine and checked the mirrors to reverse, hoping to hell he moved out of the way so I didn’t run him over.
He slammed a photo on my windshield, then moved it just as quick. “This is about Max.”
I reacted blindly to the photo and my brother’s name, and with 911 ready on speed dial, I lowered the window a crack. I don’t care what this asshole wanted to say about me, but if he planned on dragging my brother’s name through the mud then I was ready for a fight. Hell, if this stranger wanted an interview then I’d give them one before running them the fuck over.
Connor peered through the crack. Was he armed? He didn’t seem to have a gun pointing at me, or a camera. At this point I didn’t know which was worse. “Alexander, please, I have something I need to show you.”
“Then show me.”
I heard Connor muttering, saw him frown, before he slid the photo through the small gap. It slithered to the floor, and I leaned over to pick it up, seeing writing on the back but ignoring it to check the photo. Part of me expected a blackmail image, but instead it was a simple photo of my big brother, Max. He was maybe six or seven here, standing next to a horse, but I didn’t recognize the shot, and turned it over to see information.
Laurence Lennox, Lennox Ranch, Wyoming. It was dated only two years ago, which didn’t make sense.
“What do you want?” I asked, confusion making me frown.
“Can we please just talk?” Connor asked from outside. He had his forehead against the window and he looked destroyed. “My cousin Natalie was at the commune where your brother died. Please, let me in.” He didn’t seem to be threatening me, in fact I thought he seemed close to tears, and I did the singularly most stupid thing I’d ever done. If he killed me then whatever, it wasn’t as if I cared about anything today. I released the locks, and the dark-haired man slipped inside then shut the door. I locked us in again because I could handle one man, but if he had accomplices…
“Connor Mason, PI,” he introduced himself, and we shook hands. “I don’t know where to start,” he murmured.
I tucked my hair behind my ear, my hands shaky with adrenaline. “How about you give me an executive overview?”
“Your dad hired me to find Max.”
Shock gripped me? This was another one of my dad’s lackeys. I unlocked the car and shoved at him. “Get the fuck out.”
“No—”
I connected to 911, but he reached over and pressed end call. For a second we tussled, and then he slumped back in the seat. “Actually, you know what? Call the cops because I’ve got nothing to hide. But you have.”
“What?” This wasn’t making sense, but I hesitated to pull in the cops when he said I had something to hide. What did he mean?
“There are things I never told your dad. I don’t work for him anymore. I want you to trust me… you have to trust me.”
“I don’t have to trust anyone. What do you want to say?”
He was relieved, but there was some hesitation in him, as if he was going to tell me the absolute worst of news and he didn’t want to. After a pause he exhaled noisily.
“I never told your dad what I found, even though he’d been the one to hire me. I had a bad feeling about him. He said he didn’t want Max to come home, that I had to track Max down and tell him so.” Why didn’t that surprise me? Our father didn’t want Max or me. “I was told in no uncertain terms that he wanted me to make sure Max stayed away. That there was a bonus if no one saw him again.” There was so much innuendo in that simple sentence. “So, what I’m telling you now… I’m trusting you with this because I’ve been watching you. I saw you at the funeral.”
“You were at the funeral?” I hadn’t seen him, but grief had blinded me to everything that day. He ignored me.
“I know what you’ve done today with your holdings in Dawson Pharma. You sold everything today, didn’t you? Removed yourself from the family.”
“How do you even know that?”
Connor shrugged. “I have sources. But I’m trusting you by even showing you the photo. See, that photo isn’t of Max, it’s of a boy called Laurence Lennox.”
“The name on the back.”
“I think he’s your brother’s son.”
I blinked at Connor, struck dumb. “Huh?” was the only coherent response I could muster as anguish fought with a flicker of hope in my chest.
“I have reason to believe Max had a son when he was at the Brothers of Chiron compound, and I think Laurence is that son.”
“Max had a son?” I repeated, and my chest tightened so much that my vision blurred.
“Yes.” Connor nodded.
“I’m an uncle?” Wonder pushed aside distrust and anger. I’d lost hope so long ago when Max had vanished; ten years he’d been gone, and then they’d found his remains, and told us he’d been dead for much of that time. For so long I’d imagined him out there living his life, and all that time he’d been dead. A sob caught in my throat, but the emotion forced to the surface was optimism, and then the tears fell again, and Connor gripped my hand.
I could be an uncle.
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?
N.R. Walker is an Australian author, who loves her genre of gay romance. She loves writing and spends far too much time doing it, but wouldn't have it any other way.
She is many things; a mother, a wife, a sister, a writer. She has pretty, pretty boys who she gives them life with words.
She likes it when they do dirty, dirty things...but likes it even more when they fall in love. She used to think having people in her head talking to her was weird, until one day she happened across other writers who told her it was normal.
She’s been writing ever since...
Ellie Thomas lives by the sea. She comes from a teaching background and goes for long seaside walks where she daydreams about history. She is a voracious reader especially about anything historical. She mainly writes historical romance.
Ellie also writes historical erotic romance under the pen name L. E. Thomas.
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.
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.
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.
NR Walker
Ellie Thomas
SMASHWORDS / JMS BOOKS / B&N
Lacey Daize
RJ Scott
A Trick of the Light by Ellie Thomas
Summer Drifter by RJ Scott
