Showing posts with label adult contemporary romance. Show all posts
Showing posts with label adult contemporary romance. Show all posts

Friday, June 19, 2026

The Talent's Choice Review #GayBookPromotions

 

BOOK BLAST

Book Title:  The Talent’s Choice 

Author: Michael Dee

Publisher: American Publishers, Inc

Cover Artist:  American Publishers, Inc AI

Release Date: January 8, 2026 

Tense/POV: First person/Past tense/Dual POV 

Genres: Contemporary MM Romance 

Heat Rating: 4.5 flames  

Length: 78 000 words       

It is a standalone book.

Goodreads

Buy Links

Amazon US   |  Amazon UK

 Only $2.99 through June 2026.

This post contains material suitable only for readers 18+  

How much are you willing to give up for fame? 

Blurb 

In The Talent’s Choice, where dreams are made and hearts are tested, one rising star is about to discover that fame isn’t the only thing worth fighting for.

Tristan Weber has always believed his future was waiting somewhere beyond Missouri. With New York City as his first step and Hollywood in his sights, he’s ready to give everything he has to make it. Success is closer than ever—and so is the life he’s always dreamed of.

But love was never part of the plan.

When Tristan meets Cory Reed, a guarded yet deeply sincere flight attendant who’s been waiting for someone worthy of his trust, everything begins to change. What starts as an unexpected connection quickly turns into something undeniable, something real. The kind of love neither of them saw coming… and neither of them can ignore.

As Tristan’s star begins to rise within The Talent’s Choice, the spotlight grows hotter, the stakes grow higher, and the pressure to succeed threatens to pull him away from the one person who feels like home.

Because in a world built on ambition, desire, and impossible choices…love may be the greatest risk of all.

Will Tristan chase the life he’s always wanted—or fight for the one he never knew he needed?

And when everything is on the line… Can love survive the cost of being chosen, or is there a moment when you simply decide you've had enough?  

Excerpt 

The car stopped in front of an enormous brick building that looked like an old factory, with large windows encircling all 6 floors. The driver had the trunk open, as we both emerged from the back seat.  And with bags in hand, Tristen led us through the industrial looking lobby of his building, where a large service elevator waited for us.  I didn’t even have time to turn around and Tristen was on me, pushing me back against the metal wall as the upper and lower doors closed to engage the lift.  

His hands were inside my jacket, as his mouth was pressed hard against mine as our tongues competed for dominance.  I pushed my hands around him, and into the waist of his pants, cupping his hot, hard, ass checks in both my hands.   I could feel his hardness pressing against me, even though our pants.  “Fuck me!” I said as our lips parted.  

“My thoughts exactly.”  Tristen said, after unbuckling my belt and both hands working hard on getting my pants open. 

When the lift came to an abrupt stop our lips were still locked, and both of us were in a dilapidated state of undress.  And by the time two doors parted, my jacket was hanging off me, and my shirt was completely unbuttoned.  And as I tried to walk out of the elevator, Tristen grabbed hold of my jacket and before I knew it, he had thrown it on the foyer floor, then my shirt was ripped from my body and tossed over his shoulder.  I turned to look at him, as he pulled his own shirt over his head, revealing a chiseled smooth chest, and hard abs unlike any I had ever seen. He quickly reached into his pants for his key to his front door, as I tossed my shoes off my feet. 

The apartment was dark, other than the ambient light thrown off by the buildings outside, he grabbed my hand to pull me inside.  I looked at the clothes scattered in the elevator foyer.  “Don’t worry, it’s my private foyer, they’ll be there in the morning.” Tristen said and suddenly his lips were on my again as he lifted me off my feet.  I wrapped my legs around his waist as we walked deeper into the dark apartment. I felt his hard cock rubbing against my ass as he maneuvered us through darkens until we both fell on a soft leather sofa. Our lips were still locked onto each other’s, with our tongues diving deep into one another’s throats.  My hands digging through the thick locks of his hair, as I felt his warm hands exploring my hard, perky nipples.  

Our collective moans would have woken the neighbors if we cared, but all we wanted now was to get each other naked.  As we both struggled to do, with our lips still locked together.   I felt my pants and underwear being pushed off my hips, only to be tangled in the stiffness of my cock.  My hands were pulling on the back of Tristan’s pants, with my thumbs under the band of his boxer briefs, I pushed them over both sumptuous mounds, exposing his perfect ass which my hands quickly coveted as I began to knead his warm flesh with my fingers.   

Obviously frustrated with our lack of progress, Tristen pushed up off me and looked down into my eyes.  I could see the want and desire beaming back at me as he looked at my half naked body.  He stood up, my eyes drank in the beauty of his body. His chest was smooth, his pecks pronounced with his nipples as small as buds protruding, aching for attention.  My gaze went lower, his abs were like steel rods crisscrossing his stomach, tight, firm and flawless, and then there was the small indentation of his perfectly shaped bellybutton.  My eyes continued to the open winged flaps of his pants, exposing his underwear, with his button and zipper completely undone.  And what I was staring at took my breath away.  His Calvin Klien black boxer brief swathed the engorged pillar of his huge, hard cock that was so desperate for release.  It was fat and thick. Stemming from the bottom of his zipper, extending high until its head thrust against the waistband of his underwear.    I reached out for him, but I was too late, Tristen had already turned his attention to the confines of my pants.

One leg, then the other, until I was only clad in my black briefs.  Tristen knelt next to me and pushed his face in between my legs.  I could feel the heat of his breath on my tight balls, as he pressed into them with his right hand.  I moaned at the touch, until he began licking the taught fabric encasing my aching cock, sending shivers up my spine.  I arched my back, pressing myself into the touch of his tongue as it moved upward, towards my pulsing head.  

About the Author  

Michael has been an LGBT romantic short story writer for 20+ years before undertaking his first novel. He has consistently demonstrated a passion for reading and writing gay romantic stories which he continues to pursue in this his first book titled The Talent’s Choice, a gay romantic novel. Readers who have appreciated Michael Dee's previous works will find his latest endeavor equally captivating.

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Ornery Owl's Review

Rating: Four out of Five Stars

The pacing of this story was excellent overall, keeping me immersed in Tristan’s and Cory’s emotional turmoils and evolving careers. Their slow burn romantic arc felt relatable and authentic. The intimate scenes in the jet and the interaction at the airport were genuinely moving. 

Sometimes the multitude of characters got in the way of the romance. However, the story was rich with trope-aware setups, emotional conflict, and a relationship that evolves organically. Tristan and Cory were engaging, and their personal histories and vulnerabilities made them feel real. Mutual respect and clear consent in their intimate moments gave an additional level of care to the narrative. The presence of supportive friends, family, and secondary relationships added warmth. 

A favorite interaction:
“You know I love you so much,” I said, my eyes growing tired as we snuggled together in bed.
“Oh god, Cory, I forgot to tell you! We have a date for the premiere!” Tristan said with great excitement.

Tristan’s hopes to break into acting, his early modeling struggles, and career versus love struggles dominated his arc. Cory’s background as a flight attendant, his self-doubt, and longing for authentic intimacy rounded him out nicely. Their motivations to find genuine love amidst the entertainment industry’s pressures felt credible. Their voices, through internal monologues and dialogue, were distinct. 

Tristan is hopeful but anxious, Cory is grounded and cautious. Supporting characters like Ryan and Keira deepened the stakes, especially with Ryan’s interference creating real conflict and hurt. Sometimes the huge ensemble cast and side stories diluted the focus from the couple’s story. But overall, the romantic evolution was believable.

The NYC and LA settings and the modeling and airline industry details created an immersive backdrop. Scenes on set, commercial shoots, and airport life were vividly rendered. The Hollywood studio drama felt authentic. The Mexico shoot and the private island adventure added a light exotic flavor without overshadowing the romance.

Themes of self-acceptance, authentic love, the price of ambition, and the power of friendship came through strongly. The tone was consistent, balancing romance with  darker moments of heartbreak and manipulation. The hopeful, tender moments, such as the proposal scene or quiet bedroom intimacy, offset the tension. Humor was subtle, usually occurring in banter or personal reflection.

The heartfelt family moments, such as Tristan coming out to his parents or meeting Cory’s family, added emotional resonance. The extensive secondary character developments and less relevant partying scenes slowed the story in places. At times the stakes around cheating and studio interference felt intense but occasionally these dragged on without new revelations or evolution.

Tropes like struggling actor, industry sabotage, and second chance love were handled with emotional authenticity. Tightening some subplots, trimming longer passages, and strengthening the voices of secondary characters would improve the narrative, but Tristan and Cory's love story shines.

Tuesday, May 26, 2026

Match Made Review #GayBookPromotions

 RELEASE BLITZ

Author: TA Moore

Publisher: Rogue Firebird Press

Cover Artist: Tammy Moore

Release Date: May 26, 2026

Tense/POV: Third person, alternating POV

Genres: Contemporary MM Romance/Romantic Comedy

Tropes: Matchmaking, Black Cat/Golden Retriever, Love at First Sight, Second Chance Romance, Found Family

Themes: Love after Loss, Taking the win, even when you don’t think you deserve it, the way people fit

Heat Rating:  3 flames

Length: 50 000 words

It is a standalone story and does not end on a cliffhanger.

Goodreads

Buy Links

Universal Link

Cupid might be free, but Match Made takes direction

Blurb

Cupid has a help desk

Alaskan pilot Quentin Hannigan is good at his job, but not so great with people. He's the last man anyone who knows him would expect to fall in love at first sight. Until he does. Hard.

Just one problem.

Joe Kendrick, widower and frazzled dad of three, does not have the bandwidth for this. Between his kids, his trainwreck of a sister, and bills that keep piling up, the last thing he needs is a too-good-to-be-true, and admittedly very hot, pilot swooping in to play knight in shining armor.

Luckily for the star-crossed couple the world's premier, and only, covert match-making service is on the case. Match-Made's highly trained operatives are ready and willing to engineer a happy-ever-after, one way or another.

They just need Quentin and Joe to co-operate…just once!

Excerpt

“People,” Benjy said, with sullen practicing-teenager import, as he slouched down into his jacket like a tortoise, “are looking.”

Yes. 

Joe was aware. He tried to ignore it as he hitched Cody up on his hip and watched his knight in shining armor make room for his backpack in the overhead bin.

“I could do that,” he protested weakly.

The man tucked in a dangling strap and turned to look over his shoulder at Joe. A dark brown eyebrow twitched up over serious, dark brown eyes. “You want me to pull it out so you can do it yourself?” he offered tolerantly.

Yes.

No,” Joe capitulated with poor grace instead. He raked his fingers through his hair. It needed cutting. It needed brushing. Today had gotten off to a bad start and had not gotten any better. Joe took a breath and scraped together what he could muster of his social graces to try again. “Thank you.”

The man shrugged.

“Least I could do.” He closed the hatch and turned to give Joe a concerned look. “Are you going to be OK? Do you need–”

“No. I’m fine. I’ve got it from here,” Joe cut him off firmly, his hand raised to fend off any offers of help. It was well-meant—and Joe did appreciate that, he did—but he’d reached his limit for people being nice to him today.

Already.

His tolerance was low these days.

If Mr. Shining Knight did or said one more nice thing, Joe was going to either burst into tears or flames. He didn’t know which, but he knew it wouldn’t stop anyone staring at him. 

Jessie looked up from her phone. “Can I get a coffee?” she asked slyly. “Milk. Two sugars.”

“You don’t get coffee, you’ll get juice. And that’s when we’ve taken off,” Joe told her firmly and then turned back to Mr. Knight. “Honestly, everything is under control. You can get back to…”

He trailed off as he tried to ‘guess the profession’ based on a crisp white shirt and uncallused hands. Accountant? Lawyer? 

He seemed too nice to be a lawyer, but that was probably the last year talking.

Mr. Knight shrugged. “I was just doing a crossword,” he said. “And I was stuck on a three-letter prefix for ear.”

“Oto,” Joe provided the answer without thinking. “O.T.O.”

Mr. Knight looked surprised and a little impressed. 

“That would work,” he said. “Thanks. I hate to leave one unfinished.”

The admiration on his face made Joe flush and feel like a fraud. Before he could defend himself against any misapprehensions of being smart, the tannoy system crackled to life. 

“We’re sorry for the delay,” a woman’s smooth, alto voice said. The passengers all looked up from their phones and magazines to listen to the announcement. ‘But we should be taking off shortly, as soon as our pilot is ready to go.”

Joe had time to think that was a funny way to put it. Then he realized that everyone’s head had swivelled around to look at him. He was ready to hold up his hands to the delay when he realized they were actually…

…looking at Mr. Knight. 

Oh.

Oh, no.

Joe squeezed his eyes shut for a moment as he realized just how disruptive his late arrival had been. 

“You’re the pilot,” he said as he opened his eyes.

Mr. Shining Knight—or Shining Pilot, Joe supposed, to be accurate—just looked amused. Apparently, from his side of things, it wasn’t absolutely mortifying.

“I told you they wouldn’t leave without us,” he pointed out as he nudged Joe to the side so he could squeeze by. “I should get back to it, though.”

About the Author

TA Moore is a Northern Irish writer of romantic suspense, urban fantasy, and contemporary romance novels. A childhood in a rural, seaside town fostered in her a suspicious nature, a love of mystery, and a streak of black humour a mile wide.

Coffee, Doc Marten boots, and good friends are the essential things in life. Spiders, mayo, and heels are to be avoided.

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The book kept me turning pages. There's a pleasurable mix of rom‑com contrivance (the MatchMade service) and serious stakes (Joe's grief, money, kids). The banter between Quentin and Joe is engaging. Favorite scenes include the meet‑cute on the tarmac, the dinners, the parental friction. These scenes all hold up the love at first sight chemistry. 

Some chapters got a little long-winded and sometimes the MatchMade framing pulled me out of the heart of the story, which is Joe and Quentin's romance. However, the pacing was mostly on target. For instance, the meet‑cute lands early (pun intended--lands, tarmac...), the midpoint shows a deepening of Quentin and Joe's bond, and the dark night of the soul created by the in-laws and custody battles is emotionally powerful. 

The pace slows where scenes linger on logistics such as hotel check-ins and itemized bills. There are small repetitive beats which are variations of "he's not my type" that dragged the flow down somewhat. 

Overall, however, the story was enjoyable and engaging. I was captivated by the domestic stakes: kids, debts, custody fears. These are the kind of real obstacles I want to see in contemporary romance. The MatchMade concept is fun and fresh, but it should remain a supporting plot device rather than becoming a character in itself, which it sometimes did. This had the affect of overshadowing Quentin and Joe's story line, and they are who the story should be about.

Tuesday, May 12, 2026

The Strange and Unbelievable Tall Tale of Mighty Max #GayBookPromotions

 

NEW RELEASE

Book Title: The Strange and Unbelievable Tall Tale of Mighty Max

Author: Duncan Gaye

Cover Artist: Vaselina Georgieva

Release Date:  May 12, 2026

Tense/POV: third person/past tense

Genres: Contemporary MM, magical realism

Tropes: Size difference, body worship, psychological, opposites attract, friends to lovers, small town, lumberjack 

Themes: A meditation on how love, belief, and storytelling blur the line between imagination and reality—until the distinction no longer matters.

Length: 35 000 words/113 pages

Is it a standalone story and does not end on a cliffhanger.

Goodreads

Buy Links

Universal Book Link 

A weary writer falls for a literal tall tale and must decide what he's willing to sacrifice to keep that love breathing. Tender, wry, and quietly desperate, this is a book about belief, desire, and the work it takes to hold someone in the world.

Blurb

Brian Dunleavy comes to the North Woods to write a serious novel. Instead, he falls in love with a kitschy paper towel mascot.


It begins with a whistle in the trees and the unmistakable sense of being watched. A bootprint the size of a bathtub. Then a muscular, 43-foot-tall lumberjack steps out of the forest.


Mighty Max is handsome. He is kind. Broad-shouldered and blue-eyed, he lives in permanent flannel. He claims he was born from tall tales and campfire legends—back when giants were needed, and believed in. But giants fade when they are mocked. Legends disappear when they're forgotten.


As solitude turns to intimacy, myth turns warm and very, very tangible. Brian finds himself lifted in the careful palm of the colossal man whose shadow stretches across the meadow like dusk itself. Beneath cold stars and beside impossible bonfires, he discovers that loving a giant means choosing to believe in him even when belief bends reality.


Reality is definitely bending. And when Max is reclaimed by the forest, Brian may be the only one who can write him back into being. If stories invent their tellers, who is keeping whom alive?


Strange, tender, playful, and proudly queer, The Strange and Unbelievable Tall Tale of Mighty Max is a mythic romance about loneliness, longing, and the radical act of loving something larger than life.


For readers who cherish the mythic queer devotion of The Song of Achilles, the tender whimsy of The House in the Cerulean Sea, and the wistful magic of Puff the Magic Dragon.

Excerpt

As Brian Dunleavy drove his green jeep under the thick canopy of jack pines and cedars, it felt like he was tunneling through time itself. The road disappeared behind him and shrank ahead of him, leading him into an untamed solitude. Even the digital gods of his GPS abandoned him as he ventured deeper into the vast Northwoods. Soon his path became little more than a trail, swallowed up by a thick carpet of fallen needles.

A brief glimpse of open sky was his first hint, and then he saw it: the tall, weathered A-frame cabin he had rented. It stood at the top edge of a peaceful, dewy meadow, slanted beams reaching up like arms towards the sky. He cut the engine, exhaling as forest sounds closed in, trying to shake the anxiety from his veins.
The cabin loomed like something out of a forgotten fable, the sun-bleached paint peeling in strips as though it were the surface of a strange, dying skin. Shadows danced across the wooden slats. They seemed timeless and eternal, like lost ghosts moving from one story to another. He sensed a mixed welcome in the landscape. It felt both lonely and watchful.

The distant pines stood like silent guards, seeming to take notice of him. They towered with the indifference of those who have seen many come and go. Beyond the cabin, the meadow shimmered. Its translucent grasses and scattered wildflowers set each other off like an Impressionist painting.

About the Author 

Duncan Gaye lives in River Forest, Illinois. He believes magic can be found anywhere, even the suburbs. He writes the kind of love stories that sneak up on you—queer, tender, and just a little strange. His books are full of burly big-hearted men, tall tales, impossible odds, and the kind of endings that leave you wanting more.

When not writing, he likes to read, travel and relax with his adorable senior dogs, Spotty and French Fry.

The Long Shadow Series by Duncan Gaye is a thematic anthology series of stand-alone LGBTQ+ novellas and novels that tell love stories shaped by the extraordinary. Blending elements of speculative fiction, magical realism, tall tales, and literary drama, these are stories where intimacy and identity meet epic strength and emotional vulnerability.

From the mythical to the mundane, each book explores larger-than-life characters—strongmen, bodyguards, super soldiers, and other giants. For fans of emotional intensity, queer desire, and stories that stretch the boundaries of realism, this series offers a new kind of legend.

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Wednesday, December 10, 2025

Boolgarrin Review #IndiGo

RECENT RELEASE

Book Title:  Boolgarrin

Author:  Jude Rule

Publisher: Warru Press

Cover Artist: Leo Fortin

Release Date: November 8, 2025

Tense/POV: third person, past tense, alternating POV

Genres: Contemporary MM Romance

Tropes: Small town romance, fake marriage, marriage-of-convenience romance, second chance

Heat Rating: 3.5 flames    

Length: 38 913 words/ 150 pages

It is a standalone story and does not end on a cliffhanger.

Goodreads

Buy Links - Available in Kindle Unlimited

Amazon AU  |  Amazon US  |  Amazon UK

He thought he was saving the farm. He never expected to lose his heart.

Blurb

Sometimes you have to fake it before you make it—especially when it comes to marriage.

When a father's hatred becomes a weapon from beyond the grave, two men must fake a marriage to save a family farm.

Finn has hurt him once. Can Ben survive being married to the man he desires most in the world without his heart being crushed in the process?

Located in the fictional town of Murrilup, Western Australia, Boolgarrin is a tender marriage-of-convenience romance. Amidst small-town prejudice and a vengeful neighbour, two men hope for a second chance at love.

Excerpt 

Ben couldn’t sleep. He twisted in the sheets, fists clenching against the mattress. The ceiling above seemed to tilt with the shadows, and his breath caught sharp and uneven, as if the ground had shifted beneath him.  He was used to having control of his life, and now he felt completely unbalanced.  His mind was racing.  In one day, his whole life had been upended.  Amelia and Josie had started wedding planning.  The admission by Finn, though, was what really blind-sided him.  

He finally gave up on sleep. Slipping his feet into his slippers, he padded into the kitchen. 

He smiled faintly as he put a couple of brownies in the microwave, then turned to flick on the kettle and noticed pots simmering on the stove. Iris made the best brownies.  

"Sorry," he said. "I thought I'd be the only one up."

Amelia appeared from the pantry, smiling tiredly.

"Can't sleep either?" he asked.

She shook her head and gestured to the kitchen bench. "Come sit. I'm just finishing something."

“I can make my tea and head back to my room,” Ben said.

“Nah, come and join me,” she said, pulling out one of the breakfast stools.  After helping herself to some water from the fridge door, she sat down.

They sat together briefly, neither saying anything.  

“What are you making?” asked Ben, breaking the silence.

“Hand cream.”

“It smells amazing.”

“Thanks,” said Amelia. She smiled, the first genuine smile Ben had seen from her all day. "I've been selling some at the farmers' market in Bremer Bay. Nothing major, just pocket money really, but people seem to like them."  She returned to the pots on the stove and started stirring them.

"Selling them?" Ben raised his eyebrows. "That's brilliant, Amelia. Have you thought about expanding it?"

She shrugged. " I wanted to. I have notebooks full of ideas, including new scents and packaging designs, and I've even researched what it would take to start officially." Her face fell slightly. "Dad said university was a waste of money for girls. That I'd just get married and have babies anyway, so why bother with business studies?  He was happy to spend money on the stuff I needed to make the product, but he wasn’t happy with me selling any, even at the market.”  

Ben felt that familiar anger toward his father rising in his chest. "That's rubbish, Amelia. You know that, right?"

"I know. But when someone tells you something often enough..." She trailed off, focusing intently on her stirring.

"You could still do it, you know. Study business. Sell these." Ben gestured toward her pot of hand cream. "Finn would help with the legal stuff."

Amelia's face brightened. "You think he'd help?"

"Of course he would. Especially after..." Ben paused, realising he was about to bring up the marriage arrangement. "Well, especially considering everything he's doing for us."

For a while, the kitchen was quiet except for the sound of Amelia's spoon scraping the sides of the pot. Ben stared into his tea, Finn's words from earlier echoing in his head.

"Can I ask you something?" Amelia said quietly.

“Sure.”

"I saw your face when Nate said Finn would move in. Why is that such a big deal? He used to stay over all the time."

Ben raked a hand through his hair. "That was different. Back then, he was just Nate’s friend."

Amelia tilted her head. "So?"

He took a big breath.  “It’s a lot, okay?”

“I know, but …”

“Look, if I tell you something, do you promise to never tell anyone, not Finn and definitely not Nate?”

She nodded, “Of course.  I love you, brother. I’m just trying to understand.”

“I’ve never told anyone this before.”

“Then I'm honoured you trust me.”

He laughed nervously and began, fingers picking at his nails.  “When I was seventeen, he came over, but Nate was out with Josie.  Their relationship was still new, and they had gone to the Stirling Ranges, where they planned to have a picnic and do the Kanga Walk.  He told me that he would hang around until they got back, as he hadn’t let Nate know that he was coming anyway.  We had a great afternoon.  We went for a ride and sat down by the old Moreton Bay Fig Tree.  When we returned, he came into my room and we played video games.  We just talked and laughed, and I may have just snaffled a port, so we may have had a drink or two too.”

Amelia arched a brow.  “You may have?”

“Fine, I definitely did.” Ben grinned briefly.  “Finn was more used to drinking than me, but we both became a little tipsy.”

“Oh no.  This is going to be bad, isn’t it?” Ben nodded his head.  

“I started talking to him about how he had the most beautiful, deep blue eyes, like the ocean, that someone could drown in.  I even told him his eyes were cobalt blue.”  Ben put his hands over his face.  “I mean how geeky is that?”

Amelia shrugged and continued to stir her concoction on the stove.  “I don’t know, it’s not as if you told him the hex code for the colour.”

Ben laughed and shook his head.  “No, but it gets worse.  I then told him what kissable lips he has, and then I leaned forward and kissed him.  At first tentatively, but then when he put an arm around me, I reached out and pulled my hands through his hair.”  Ben closed his eyes; the mere thought of that kiss always brought him back to that night, the softness of Finn’s hair and the feel of his lips. It was as if electricity shot through Ben.  Before Ben knew it, he had acted on instinct, their lips moving together, Ben’s tongue moving across the seam between Finn’s lips.  Finn responded, sliding his arm around Ben’s waist and kissing him back. When Finn moaned, Ben pulled him closer.

“Suddenly, there was a knock on the door.”

“Nate,” said Amelia quietly.  She had stopped stirring and was sitting opposite Ben on a stool.  Ben nodded and put his hands over his cheeks.  

“Finn jumped back, causing me to step back.  Our hair was mussed, our skin flushed, and our lips swollen.  Nate opened the door and told Finn that he was home.  He had dropped Josie off on the way.  He looked between the two of us, and I still have no idea what he was thinking.  Finn told him he would join him in a sec.”

“Close call.  I’m glad that Nate didn’t just walk in.”

I shook my head.  “I’m so glad too.  It was bad enough as it was.”

Amelia reached over and put her hand over mine.  “What happened next?”

“Nate’s forehead creased, and he looked like he was going to say something, but then he closed the door and left.”

“Finn spoke quietly, presumably so that Nate wouldn’t hear, but there was a forcefulness to his voice.    ‘What the heck!’ he had exclaimed, ‘we’re both men.’  I looked down, thinking that I’d misread all the signals.  I thought he had liked it.  He told me in no uncertain terms that it could not happen again, as he didn’t like me that way.  He then left the room, while I slumped to the floor, wondering how I was ever going to recover.”

Amelia reached across and squeezed his hand. “So, that’s why you started trying to avoid him?”

“Was I that obvious?”  Ben rubbed his chest, wondering why it hurt so badly all these years later. 

“Yep.  Sorry, but it was very obvious.”

“It was only a couple of weeks later that I came out to you and Nate.”

“So, you fell in love with Finn when you were drunk.”

Ben shook his head.  “No, I had had a big crush on him for a couple of years, before I, well, before that incident.”

“Look, I can see why it was embarrassing back then, but I don’t see why it is such a problem now.”

“Because I made a fool of myself.  I was so utterly embarrassed that I couldn’t face him until now.”  Ben paused.  “Even now.”  

“But is it really that bad?  I mean, you made a pass and he kissed you back, right?”

“Right.”

“And he wrapped his arm around you?”

“Yes.”

“Then, when you were nearly caught by Nate, he lied and told you he wasn’t gay.”

“Right again.  I didn’t even know he was gay until today.”

“I still don’t get why you were so embarrassed.”

“He rejected me, and he is my brother’s best friend, which meant that I had to face that rejection every day.”

Amelia shook her head.  “Ben, I think that he may have rejected you with his words, but his actions say something else.  I think he was attracted to you and liked the kiss.  When he was nearly caught by Nate, he freaked out.”

 


Ornery Owl's Review
Five out of Five Stars


I love the premise of the story. The fake marriage to save the farm ends up turning into a real love story and does so in a believable fashion. The story kept me reading. Ben is a believable character with realistic wounds including his father’s cruelty and longstanding crush on Finn. Finn is the grumpy to Ben's sunshine. 

The secondary characters provide a platonic, found-family warmth. Traits such as Nate’s practical anger, Josie’s grounded support, and Finn’s professional calm all read true. The descriptions of the farm and small-town life are beautifully vivid.


The arson and animal attacks raise the stakes in the plot but for some readers they may range into thriller territory. Some readers might find the scene in chapter twelve where Ben, Finn, and Nate are dealing with the wounded sheep to be upsetting. However, the scene is written in a matter-of-fact fashion and does not give graphic details. I didn't have a problem with it. 


Overall, this is an honest small-town romance with a likeable couple and a wonderful found-family group supporting them. The book is suitable only for mature readers because of adult themes and for scenes such as the one involving the fatally injured sheep.

About the Author 

Jude Rule is an author from Western Australia.  This is his debut novel.

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Tuesday, November 4, 2025

Swallows of Mostrar New Release Blitz #IndiGo

Title: Swallows of Mostar

Author: Neira Fazlovic

Publisher:  NineStar Press

Release Date: 11/04/2025

Heat Level: 2 - Fade to Black Sex

Pairing: Female/Female

Length: 216

Genre: Contemporary, YA/NA, sports, LGBT, sapphic, Sports romance, cliff diving, summer read, college, contemporary, Bosnia, Herzegovina

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Description

Two years after she moved to Mostar, a historic small town in Bosnia and Herzegovina, eighteen-year-old Franka Garcia still struggles with loneliness, language barriers, and terrible grades. After she accidentally falls off the famous Old Bridge, Franka is rescued by Mirna, a wickedly intelligent, but exasperated teenager obsessed with cliff diving.

Despite training all her life and frequently besting her peers, being a girl means Mirna can never participate in the centuries-old tradition of diving off the Old Bridge. But stubborn and determined Mirna won’t give up so easily.

After Franka’s near-perfect accidental dive, Mirna reluctantly takes on the challenge of teaching her all she knows about cliff diving. If Franka and Mirna want to compete, they must enact their unorthodox plan to take down the patriarchal system forbidding them from diving. Falling in love was never part of the plan.

Excerpt

Swallows of Mostar
Neira Fazlovic © 2025
All Rights Reserved

Čudna jada od Mosta grada

The morning sun was warm against Franka’s skin, and the pleasant summer wind ruffled her hair. Her lungs eagerly took in the first wisps of fresh air after weeks of being stuck inside with nothing but textbooks and math equations to keep her company. She leaned against the cold, stone wall of the ancient street that led to the Old Bridge, as the sweet and nutty taste of her ice cream caused her brain to produce some much-needed serotonin. With the River Neretva carrying away her worries, Franka looked up at the bright sun and smiled for the first time in weeks.

The scene in front of her was a common sight in this part of Mostar. The lanky guide was probably barely out of high school, with a subtle Slavic accent in his English and a vocabulary that could use a bit more work. Still, his flock of tourists (Canadian retirees, if Franka was correct) seemed interested in what he had to say about the city of Mostar, the often overlooked jewel of Southern Europe, as he called it, even if they probably could have read most of his speech on Wikipedia. Today, Franka didn’t mind because, only moments ago, a miracle happened: after two years of living in this city, she finally effortlessly understood a single sentence of the language.

The sentence was uttered, or to be more precise, yelled, through a thick accent by a tall young woman in a traditional Bosnian costume who sold trinkets to the tourists at the store closest to the Old Bridge. To be perfectly honest, the sentence wasn’t overly complex, but it was more than a hello or a plea to buy some souvenirs Franka would have recognized even before she was so cruelly punished by the gods and forced to live in Mostar. It wasn’t even directed to Franka or any other tourist, but to Ado, a short young man (at least, short for the land of giants that was Bosnia and Herzegovina) who was now running past Franka in only his bikini bathing suit, sporting a very smug grin on his youthful face. The sentence was simple, but it might as well have been poetry to Franka. “Ado, idiote, ne naginji se na ogradu, neki kreten ju je jučer razvalio!”

Some jerk busted the fence yesterday, and Ado was a fool for leaning against it. What a lovely statement!

Croatian was needlessly complicated, in Franka’s humble American opinion. So was Bosnian. And Serbian. Mostly because they were the same language with a few subtle differences, no matter what the native speakers would like to argue. Declinations, verb changes, and grammar cases, not to mention genders were all entirely unnecessary. Who decided “river” was female and “bridge” was male, and can their descendants pay for making Franka’s life in the city of Mostar somehow even more miserable?

But on this sunny summer morning, as she made her way to the Old Bridge, Franka at least got this one sentence correct. Maybe Mom was right. She really needed to leave the house.

*

“Franka, I just heard from a reputable source that it is summer outside. Can you believe it?” Mom had announced last night. She had walked into Franka’s, what could in the most generous terms be called “room,” without knocking and skipped over a pile of textbooks on the floor.

Franka sat behind her desk, a few days away from being completely taken over by the chaos that spread far and wide. Math, chemistry, and physics textbooks covered most of the available surfaces, other than the bed with messy covers that were probably supposed to be changed a few weeks ago. The seemingly endless quantity of mugs and bowls of cereal that kept appearing, but never disappearing, were very close to developing their own civilizations in this hot and moist environment. Franka didn’t have time to care. She had more important things to worry about.

She had finished studying chemistry for today (the urea cycle) and turned to math practice, littering her desk with scraps of paper filled with math formulas she understood perfectly. In English. Croatian was a different story.

“Really?” she asked, not even looking up at her mom, checking her result in the back of the textbook instead. It was correct, as was every single result she’d gotten for days had been. “I haven’t noticed,” she added in Croatian when she remembered this was her “no English summer.”

“Go out, please,” Mom said, switching back to English. “I beg of you. You have been in this house for a month! You will pass your exam.”

“I thought so last time, but here we are now!” Franka said. She was so lucky Bosnian colleges worked differently than the American ones, giving her an opportunity to retake her entrance exam in September and actually get in. The whole schooling system was unlike the one she was used to, where specialized colleges for pharmacology (as well as anything else) allowed her to skip undergrad studies and become a pharmacologist in just five short years. That was, if she could pass her exam.

“You have been stuck in this filth since June! That’s not healthy,” Mom continued, looking around as Franka suddenly became aware of the mess, the faint smell of stale air, and the boxes of stuff she should have unpacked two years ago. Still, she shook her head “no” and picked another math problem to focus on instead.

“Neither is not getting into college,” she said and tried to get back to her linear systems with two variables. Every list of questions from previous entrance exams for the Faculty of Pharmacy at the University of Mostar had at least one of those. If she wanted in, she had to be proficient, so god help her! “Very bad for the thyroid gland.”

“So, you want to cram two years’ worth of studying that you didn’t do into two months?” Mom asked, perfectly aware Franka might pull it off by any means necessary.

“That’s the plan,” Franka said and turned back to her math problem, but Mom wasn’t quitting.

“Go out. Please,” she begged again, but Franka wasn’t listening. “One hour?” she asked. “Can’t you spare one hour, so I don’t think you are losing your mind with all that science? One hour and you can get me off your back for at least a week.”

Franka paused for a moment. She was wasting time arguing right now, as she did for the past few days. It probably added up to an hour or so in total. Maybe this was the solution.

“You are in one of the most popular travel destinations in Eastern Europe. Enjoy it for an hour,” Mom continued. “Pretend to be a tourist. Grab some ice cream. Please. Mostar is a beautiful city. I promise you.”

“Very overrated,” Franka scoffed. When she was a kid, Franka had loved coming to Mostar for a few weeks every few years. Then she would go back home to Atlanta and tell her friends she went all the way to Europe and to this small country called Bosnia and Herzegovina in the Balkan Peninsula where her mom was born. Now that she was stuck here, it was hell. The city didn’t change, but everything else did. Mostar was a picturesque town, filled with history, world-famous for the sixteenth century Old Bridge that connected both sides over the gorgeous River Neretva that divided them. It was also too hot, too touristy, and too small (both in its size and the mentality of its people).

“Because our suburban hellhole in Atlanta was so much more fun,” Mom said, making Franka frown. If nothing else, Mostar was a living, breathing, organic city, even if half of the buildings were destroyed in the War and never fixed.

“I have to study. I don’t have time to mess around,” she continued. Tomorrow was the time to tackle the Krebs cycle again. Last time she lost at least ten points on that question. She knew it in English, but when she tried to explain it in Croatian, panic took the wheel of her brain and drove them both straight into a ditch.

“You want to practice the language? Go out, talk to an actual Herzegovinian other than me! It will do you wonders,” Mom continued, closing the textbook right in front of her.

That was the second argument that had given Franka pause. Coming to Mostar with barely any knowledge of the language despite her mom being born and raised here and then going to a school that was in English for two years really didn’t make any of this easier. Every time she thought she had the hang of it, someone would drop a new slang word or speak too fast and she would get lost again, so it was easier not to try at all.

“And you know, Isabella would love a selfie from the bridge. You know she loves bridges,” Mom added in her sweetest voice because she knew bringing up Aunt Bella would work.

And it did.

Purchase

NineStar Press | Books2Read

Meet the Author

Neira Fazlovic is a writer of books about lesbians, ghosts and science. Veterinarian by trade (and soon to be a PhD), she has been writing since she was thirteen. She is a great fan of cats, typos and Bosnia and Herzegovina.

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Monday, November 3, 2025

Two For Holding Review #IndiGo

Title:  Two for Holding

Series: Minor Penalties, Book One

Author: S.B. Barnes

Cover Artist: Tuisku Hiltunen

Publisher:  NineStar Press

Release Date: 10/28/2025

Heat Level: 3 - Some Sex

Pairing: Male/Male

Length: 280

Genre: Contemporary, gay, athletes, coming out, enemies/rivals to lovers, in the closet, slow burn/UST, San Francisco, sports/ice hockey, self-esteem issues, “practice with me” trope, anxiety attacks

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Description

Tom Crowler has been captain of the San Francisco Sea Lions for a decade of failures. With no cups or trophies to show for his time in the NHL, Tom retreated into himself a long time ago, and that’s exactly where he intends to stay until he retires. But when he catches the new team superstar, Jaxon Grant, in a compromising position, Tom finds it impossible to continue hiding his deepest secret behind a bland, pleasant mask.

Jax is everything Tom isn’t: loud, flashy, the winner of multiple NHL Awards, and—oh, yeah—gay enough to get traded to San Francisco because of a potential PR scandal with his old team. At first, he thinks Tom catching him means the next trade, the next rejection for being just a little too much for other people to take. When it turns out the two of them have more in common than talent on the ice, though, Jax finds himself drawn in by pulling Tom out.

As animosity gives way to a partnership neither of them saw coming, Tom and Jax are left facing new challenges. Will Jax’s impulsive nature put Tom’s deeply valued privacy at risk? Or will Tom’s reticence force Jax into pretending to be someone he isn’t? And if they can’t even figure each other out, how can they save a struggling NHL team from bad coaching and internal division?

Excerpt

Two for Holding
S.B. Barnes © 2025
All Rights Reserved

Prologue

Kayleigh: Hi everyone, I’m Kayleigh, your San Francisco Sea Lions media gal, and I’m here in the Sea Lions’ home base, Cyberian Arena, with the team’s newest addition, Jaxon Grant! Jax, how does it feel to be on the West Coast?

Jaxon: Um, good, yeah. Different. Less humid than in Philly.

Kayleigh: [leans in toward the camera] So, Jax—I can call you Jax, right?

Jaxon: Yeah, of course.

Kayleigh: Your trade came as a bit of a surprise, and so close to preseason. Can you tell us what brought you here?

Jaxon: [laughs] Uh. Good question. Honestly, if I could answer it, I might not be here.

Top comments:

sealions4lyfe: I know we had an offensive gap but…this guy? Really? He’s good, but does that make up for his personality?

Jefferson Howard: In my day, hockey players played hockey instead of dyeing their hair and buying designer watches.

(Video posted in The Rookery, the direct-to-consumer streaming service of the San Francisco Sea Lions and all associated teams, on 09/18/2024)

*

Joining a new team was always nerve-wracking.

The last time Jax had to do it, he’d been drafted third overall by the Philadelphia Magpies and had already gone through development and rookie camps. He’d earned his place. At the time, he was also eighteen and making more money playing hockey than his parents’ house had cost. He might have been slightly overconfident.

Now, Jax knew he was exactly the right amount of confident. He had six years in the NHL under his belt as well as the Calder his rookie year and an Art Ross two years ago. Any team would be lucky to have him.

As he walked into the San Francisco Sea Lions’ locker room for the first time at the tail end of training camp, he kept his shoulders back and his chin up, projecting all the confidence he could muster. No one had seen his trade coming, least of all Jax, and he’d missed all the team bonding events to start the season, but he was used to coming in as the underdog. He could make this work for him. He would make this work for him.

With that in mind, he strolled up to Tom Crowler, team captain, absolute beast on the ice and averaging comfortably over a point per game for the last decade. “Hi. Nice to meet you. Tom, right? I’m Jax, I’ll be—”

“I know who you are,” Crowler said.

“Um. Okay. So—”

“They’re probably going to give you an A. Phil can tell you what you need to know about your responsibilities.” Crowler waved vaguely in the direction of Phil “East” Easton, the only other person who’d been on the team as long as him.

Then, Crowler got up and walked out of the locker room.

Jax stared at his retreating back. Had he said something wrong? Accidentally worn a Magpies jersey out of habit? He looked down at himself. No, there was the stupid Sea Lions logo, a stylized swirl of lines only vaguely reminiscent of a real animal.

“Don’t worry about it.” A man roughly twice as broad as most humans came up to Jax and slapped him on the back, hard enough he had to brace for impact. “Captain’s always like that.”

“Seriously?”

“I’d been on the team for a month before he talked to me. I wasn’t even sure he knew my name.” The man smiled toothily. “Chris, by the way. Chris Calabrese. But everyone calls me Breezy.”

Right, a junior defenseman who’d gotten more and more minutes toward the end of last season and a lot of buzz in the press.

“Nice to meet you,” Jax said.

“You too, man. Excited to have you. We need some more young guys around here, you know? It’s just me and the rookies.” Breezy nodded over at two other guys in his corner of the locker room, both staring down at their phones.

Did no one in this locker room talk to one another? Chat?

“Sounds awesome,” Jax said weakly. Then he rallied. He’d make it work here. He would make himself integral to the team so he wouldn’t have the rug pulled out from under him with another goddamn trade. “What do y’all do for fun?”

Breezy made an odd face as if no one had ever spoken the word “fun” in the locker room before. “We don’t really do much as a team. But, hey, we should totally change it up!”

They absolutely should. They would be spending the next seven to ten months sharing a locker room and a charter plane and a team bus. What did they do, sit quietly next to one another, not talking? Jax wouldn’t survive for ten minutes, let alone eighty-two hockey games.

Breezy could definitely see his trepidation. “Here, come meet East. He’ll tell you everything you need to know.”

Twice now, someone had referred him to Easton for guidance, though he wasn’t the captain of this team. As Breezy led him across the locker room, Jax peeked out through the door. On the fresh, empty ice, Crowler drew circles around and around, all by himself, skating faster and faster as he went.

He was so good. Why was he so alone?

Purchase

NineStar Press | Books2Read

Meet the Author

S. B. Barnes attended college in the Hudson Valley, studying English Language and Literature and Anthropology (although unlike her characters, her time there was not interrupted by crime-solving). She grew up split between the USA and Germany, attending university in both countries before eventually settling in Germany. Today, she works as a teacher and lives with her husband and two cats in an apartment with too little shelf space. Fiction has always been one of her greatest loves, as a reader, as a teacher, and as a writer. While S.B. has been writing for most of her life, this is her first foray into publishing her work.

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Ornery Owl's Review

Five out of Five Stars

 If you like a slow burn, opposites attract romance with plenty of angst and banter, this is the book for you. 

Sensible Tom doesn't want to acknowledge what he's feeling for hotshot Jax, but he can't help it. The smallest things have team captain Tom feeling crazy for the new assistant captain who drives him crazy.

This book had me smiling from the start and chuckling at the zingers the guys on the team throw at each other. There's plenty of lustful longing growing into real love and plenty of heartwarming platonic interaction as well. 

Grab this story and score a fun afternoon or evening of sweet and sexy romantic fun. Highly recommended! 

   
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