BLOG TOUR
Book Title: Bridging Hope (Bridging Hearts Series, #1)
Author: Greyson McCoy
Publisher: DreamSpinner Press
Release Date: March 26, 2024
Genre: Contemporary M/M romance
Tropes: Hurt/Comfort, forced proximity, small town romance
Themes: New dads
Heat Rating: 3 flames
Length: 58 pages
It is a standalone book and does not end on a cliffhanger. It’s a HEA
Buy Links
DreamSpinner Press | Amazon US | Amazon UK
Blurb
When workaholic Pierce Simms’s sister passes, he suddenly finds himself unemployed, back in the hometown he fled, and raising his niece and nephew. Despite that, he’s confident he has things under control—at least until his sister’s high-school sweetheart shows up.
With his teaching grant ended, Dalton O’Dell is at loose ends and tight purse strings. Just as the world crashes down on him, he learns his ex-girlfriend has passed and named him guardian of her two young children. Chaos ensues when he and her brother, Pierce, are forced together to raise the toddlers in Pierce’s family farmhouse.
Nestled in the enchanting beauty of the farm, Pierce and Dalton bond over the challenges of co-parenting and their shared grief as unexpected love blossoms. Love might not be enough, however, if they can’t learn to bridge the gap between their different worlds and overcome the trauma of their pasts.
Excerpt
“Let’s discuss how to proceed,” Pierce’s attorney, a short, businesslike woman, said. For thirty minutes, Pierce kept the baby occupied while his attorney and Uncle Tim discussed the details of the will. I sat watching Pierce.
The little girl kept bringing her uncle toys that had been left in the office for kids to play with, and each time, he’d smile or ask her questions. Eventually, the baby boy settled and snuggled sleepily in his arms. That’s when my heart melted. This wasn’t an absentee uncle. Clearly, he was important to them and vice versa. It made me question whether a custody fight was prudent.
“Why did Lizzie want me to raise her kids instead of you?” I blurted, interrupting our attorneys and surprising myself.
A pained expression crossed Pierce’s face as he spoke to me for the first time. “When she made her will, she probably figured I’d never come back. We were… estranged,” he said, voice gruff.
“But you’re back now, and these two seem to trust you. How long have you been taking care of them?”
His pained look morphed into one so grief-stricken I felt tempted to hug him. “About six months,” he whispered.
I nodded in thought. “Do you have a job? Are you married? What’s your wife like? Is she on board with helping raise them?”
My uncle cleared his throat, signaling to me to let the lawyers handle the questioning, but I couldn’t help myself. For a moment, Pierce looked a little stunned by the sudden barrage, but he answered. “I’m recently unemployed, but I received a good severance package. I’m set for at least a few months before I need to work full-time again. I’m not married.” He hesitated then, his face resolute, before spinning the question back around. “You?”
I shrugged. “Unmarried and recently unemployed as well.” Ignoring his challenging stare, I continued honestly. “I see these two love you, depend on you. I don’t understand all this, but I trust Lizzie had her reasons for naming me their guardian. I won’t relinquish that responsibility. Not without knowing for certain they’re in good hands.”
Pierce nodded, and his expression softened a little. “I’m not stepping out of their lives without knowing the same thing. Frankie and Max have already been through too much for two little kids. I’ll be here until they don’t need me.”
“So we’re at an impasse,” I said.
Uncle Tim cleared his throat again. “Or maybe it’s an opportunity. Mr. Simms, may I call you Pierce? I understand you inherited your father’s farm?” Pierce glanced at him and nodded. “And Dalton, you’re looking for a place to stay. Why don’t you boys combine forces? Dalton, your farming experience might be of great help to Pierce, and you’ll both have time to get to know one another and observe the other’s parenting style.”
I looked at my uncle, aghast. “Uncle Tim, that’s probably not a good idea. Mr. Simms, surely you have a girlfriend or something? I couldn’t impose—”
Pierce barked out a laugh, nearly waking baby Max, who’d fallen asleep in his arms. “I’m gay and single.” He glanced down at his nephew, then over to his niece, Frankie, before refocusing on me. “I understand you work with kids, but do you feel comfortable caring for kids this young?”
I couldn’t help but smile. “I don’t have much experience being around kids this age. In my previous job, they already knew their ABCs when they came to me.”
Pierce appeared lost in thought before he sighed and his shoulders dropped, as if he were giving up the fight. “Honestly, I could use the help. When Lizzie got sick, friends and neighbors helped, but that tapered off. Now it’s just us. I could use another pair of adult hands, especially at night.”
“And there’s room at your house?”
He nodded. “Yeah, I’m staying in my sister’s room, which has an adjoining area where the kids sleep. You could take the main bedroom right across the hall. But fair warning,” he said, a mischievous smile forming on his lips, “if you move in, you’ll have night duty too. Max only sleeps four or five hours, which means 1:00 a.m. diaper-changing time. You up for that?”
I could tell he was testing me, and screw him. I slept like the dead, but I could set an alarm.
I nodded. “I’m up for it if you are.”
We both looked at our attorneys, who wore matching grins. “Well, then,” Uncle Tim said, “sounds like we’ve got a plan.”
About the Author
Greyson McCoy loves to travel. After years of being tied down to a life of kids, work, running a small farm, and all things domestic, he and his husband have taken full advantage of their empty nest to travel the world.
The joy of writing came to Greyson late in life. While completing his master’s degree, he found himself fighting between desperately wanting to write fiction and finishing the homework and papers he’d been assigned.
After his master’s was finished, Greyson decided to shirk his life of responsibility and pursue his dream of writing full time. His stories reflect many of the locations he and his husband have visited over the years.
Author Links
AUTHOR NAME: Greyson McCoy
Introduce yourself and your writing
After years of being tied down to a life of kids, work, running a small farm, and all things domestic, my husband and I have taken full advantage of our empty nest to travel the world.
The joy of writing came to me late in life. While completing my master’s degree, I found myself fighting between desperately wanting to write fiction and finishing the homework and papers I’d been assigned.
When my master’s was finally done, I decided to shirk my life of responsibility and pursue my dream of writing full time. My stories reflect many of the locations my husband and I have visited over the years.
What/who inspired you to start writing?
My great aunt was born in the early nineteen twenties. She and my grandmother were raised so poor, there were times they simply didn’t have enough food to eat.
My great grandmother, love her as I did, was not a big advocate of higher education. Despite that, my aunt managed to get through high school and began writing poetry when she was around my age.
I never had a conversation with her about her writing. I just secretly admired that she had the umph to do so, and when the world seemed to be against her success at it.
I think that’s where I first began to think about being a writer. Even when I never would’ve dreamed I could do it professionally, I would write poetry (bad poetry, that will never see the light of day,) stories about my experiences, advice I wanted to give my kids, and so forth and so on.
I’m not quite sure I’d have had the nerve to take this on if it hadn’t been for my great aunt.
Tell us about your new release. What inspired you to write it?
Bridging Hope was a labor of love. I was lying in bed one night when the plot bunny hit me and refused to let me go. I ended up getting up and started writing the story.
Of course, the story ended up way too long for the submission requirement for DreamSpinner press, so I had to pare it down, but that’s only because I was enjoying writing the story so much.
How did you decide on the title?
Okay, confession time. I hate titling my books. I had come up with Bridging Hearts, when I broached the subject of maybe making this a series with my editor. With her help we decided Bridging Hearts should be the series title, and Bridging Hope the title for book 1.
I was in central Oregon and fell head over heels in love with their covered bridges. Of course, I went to college in Iowa where they had their own covered bridges scattered about. Heck, Bridges of Madison County was a book that came out when I was in college there.
It only made sense, as my husband and I rode around the idyllic scenery that I would eventually set a book in a town similar to the one where the real covered bridges reside.
Bridging Hearts, just made sense as a series title. Bridging Hope is an accurate description of the process the guys in my book took to find love, and family.
What are you working on at present? Would you like to share a snippet?
Well, yes, yes I would! LOL
I have completed book 2 of the Bridging Hearts Series. The story starts out with a young California farmer fighting to save his beloved farm from a voracious wildfire.
Unfortunately, he doesn’t succeed, but he’s thrust into a world of hope, when he moves to live with his aunt and uncle on their dairy farm in Central Oregon.
Now, here’s that snippet:
I followed them in and immediately washed my hands in the lower bathroom. No need to get Sue after me again. She’d all but flogged me last week when I sat down at the table without washing proper, as she called it.
I took a seat in the dining room when Sue yelled up the stairs. “Cliff, we’re sitting down to supper. Come on down.”
I looked at Levi with my eyebrow raised in question. “My cousin,” he said quietly. “His farm was swept up in the California wildfires. Only just arrived in the wee hours.”
I cringed. I’d been watching the news about the horrendous wildfire currently scorching through California. It seemed fires were eating up the forested parts of California and Oregon more and more every year. “That’s awful,” I whispered. “He must be devastated.”
Levi nodded and a somber mood fell over the table. As talk shifted to fences still needing repair, I popped into the kitchen to help Sue. I was bringing out a bowl of mashed potatoes when I came around the corner and looked right into the eyes of one of the most handsome men I’d ever seen.
Chiseled jawline, lean build, and kind but sad eyes. When they locked on mine, I stumbled. In one swift move, he caught me, put me right, and then took the bowl from my hands and placed it on the table.
I was still feeling flustered when he shook my hand and introduced himself as Cliff Anderson.
“I’m Brandon Forest, a friend of Levi’s. Nice to meet you.”
Although his face was weary, the smile he gave me made my heart flutter.
Sue brushed past us carrying a platter of pork chops, and took her customary seat opposite Chris at the end of the table. Only then did I notice Levi had switched seats so instead of sitting across from Keya like usual, he was seated next to her. That left two empty chairs side by side, which meant I’d be sitting beside the handsome stranger all through supper.
“Let’s say grace,” Sue began, and as was the custom, Chris said his blessedly short prayer over the meal.
The conversation took its normal turns. Which fields had to be mowed, which cows were calving, and whatever else needed doing around the farm. Then Sue shared a little gossip about the neighbors. Mrs. Horace needed a knee transplant. Mr. Frost had gone into hospice.
Chatter buzzed around the table, but Cliff sat silently. I glanced his way a few times, asking him to pass me the potatoes and to fork me up a pork chop, which he did without a word.
I could smell a whiff of smoke wafting off him, which must’ve permeated his clothes, and it reminded me of all he must’ve just gone through. My heart went out to the poor guy. I couldn’t imagine what he was feeling.
I’d seen videos of the fires that had consumed California and Oregon in years past, and pictures of destroyed homes and burnt-out vehicles. The devastation was overwhelming. Experiencing that firsthand would be a real-life nightmare. I suspected Cliff was relieved no one asked him any questions about it.
“When is your next book gonna be out?” Levi asked me. I knew he already knew the answer. I’d told him a couple of days ago that my agent had asked me to send her copy of the first novel in my new series. When I looked at him questioningly, he had a mischievous smile on his face. So, I thought to myself, this was for his cousin’s benefit.
I played along. “I should get my manuscript back for revisions any day now,” I said. I couldn’t even say that without feeling a bit of dread knowing I’d soon be faced with a document that my editor had completely ripped apart.
“You’re an author?” Cliff asked, and I smiled.
“Well, I’m trying to be. I have two books out, and now I’m working on my first series.”
“What do you write?” he asked, looking around the table shyly.
“Mostly science fiction and fantasy. My new series will be young adult fiction, though. I wrote it in honor of my buddy Levi, the middle school English teacher.”
Everyone chuckled except Cliff, who must not have gotten the joke.
“Your cousin over there challenged me to write a book he could use to motivate his students to read more. So, I bragged about that being easy. Just so you know, writing a book for pre-teens is not easy.”
Cliff smiled warmly at me, and my heartbeat did the same pitter-patter flutter in my chest as when I first saw him.
“I remember being that age, I hated everything.”
“Yes, you did. You were a pill back then,” Sue said.
Cliff’s smile brightened. “Levi was always a bigger pill, so I felt like I could get away with being a little surly.”
“Hey, don’t pull me into this,” Levi complained.
Cliff winked at his cousin, and with just that bit of humor, it’s like he came out of his protective shell.
“Do you write under a pseudonym?” he asked me.
“I use my own name. Brandon Forest.”
“Oh, shoot, I should’ve realized that. I’ve read your books. I got them last year for my birthday.”
Just like that, the shutters went down again. Something bad must’ve happened on or around his birthday. I didn’t pry but said, “I’d be happy to sign your books.”
He shook his head. “I doubt they survived,” he replied quietly.
A sadness permeated the room, and he must’ve noticed because he quickly forced a smile and said, “But I loved them. I can’t wait to read your young adult fiction.”
I smiled at him but wasn’t quite sure what else to say. So, I went back to harassing Levi, which seemed to put everyone in a better mood.
After supper, Cliff helped Sue take things into the kitchen. When everything was put away, he excused himself, saying he wanted to call a friend to find out if there was any news. Sue waved him off after he shook my hand and told me it was a pleasure meeting me.
A thrill, almost like an electric jolt, zapped my heart when he took my hand in his, and something sparked in his eyes as well. Whatever this was, and despite the awful timing in Cliff’s life, I wanted to explore it. I’d never had such an immediate, visceral reaction to someone before, and there’d been plenty of opportunity. I wouldn’t consider myself a man-slut, but I wasn’t far off. I decided to pull Levi and Keya aside and get to the bottom of the story with Levi’s ridiculously handsome cousin.
What is the hardest part of writing any book?
The blurb, hands down the most difficult thing I’ve done in a long time was to take a story 20,000 words long and put it into 2 or 3 paragraphs. Honestly, I think I’d rather eat chalk.
Are there any genres you prefer to write, and if so, why?
I love romance. Have most of my life. I like other stuff too, but my passion is and probably always will be romance.
Why M/M?
Oh, that’s easy. I’m gay. How fun is it to have loved romance books most of my life, only now to have an audience who are willing to read my work, and it all be about two (or more) men finding their best and most romantic life?
What book/s are you reading at the moment?
I just finished J.P. Jackson’s Skin Session. Oh boy, that man can write in such a naughty delightful way.
What novels do you adore/re-read?
I fell in love with Nora Roberts years ago and read her Three Sister Island series. One day I want to write a series like those, because DANG, they are still some of my favorite books!
Which other writers do you follow?
Follow? I’m not sure I follow them, but I adore Glenn Quigley, Andrew Grey, Kim Fielding, Lily Morton, and so many others. You might say I’m a bit of a MM romance slut. Ain’t no shame in that though, right?
Are you a pantser or a plotter?
I’m told the word for what I do is pantsing. I do outline, sort of, but mostly just to get my ideas down. Then I let my characters run with it. I’ve drafted five books now, and not one of them has followed the outline I initially created for them.
How often do you write? Do you have a schedule?
I either write, edit, or market my books every day. I don’t have a schedule, but I work well over fifty hours a week on my book business. Which honestly feels like my book passion.
Are you a cat person or a dog person? Tell us about your pets.
Aah, I love kitties. The only problem is I’m totally allergic. I also love the puppies.
My old terrier passed away last year and broke my heart. We have an old Husky mix now, and he occupies a lot of our time.
I’m all about the cuddles, and where the terrier had no interest the Husky is almost always willing.
Someday ask me about the other puppies I’ve loved in my life. Each of them have their own stories!
If you had access to a time machine just once, is there anything you'd go back and change? Either on a personal level or an historical event?
This is something I’ve pondered a lot lately. Would I change my life if I could?
Ultimately, I’m surprised that I’ve decided no, no I wouldn’t change much in my life. I mean, yeah, I’d buy Amazon stock, so I could be richer than I am now, thus giving me more time to write and play and well, all the stuff that I can’t afford to do now.
No, in reality, I’m proud of who I’ve become.
In the south, at funerals especially, people like to say, “Well, he had a hard life.” Imagine that being said in a very prolonged accented way.
I haven’t had a hard life, yeah, there’s been a lot of hard stuff. A heck of a lot of hard stuff in fact, but I don’t like to think of my life in that way. Now, if I have a funeral, and people are standing around talking about me, I’d want them to say, “he lived an authentic life.”
I’ve taken a heck of a lot of lemons and turned them into lemonade, lemon meringue, lemon ice box pie, lemoncello, and so many more yummy things. My writing is just one of those delightful delicacies that’ve developed out of those authentic, albeit ass-kicking, life experiences.
THANK YOU
No comments:
Post a Comment
I try to get comments published as quickly as possible. I don't always reply to comments on my blog, but I do try to visit as many people as possible when I participate in blog hops and I share links where possible to Twitter, Facebook, Pinterest, and such so others can discover your work. I do read and appreciate your comments.