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.

Website | Twitter

   

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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 Free use image from Open Clipart Vectors

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! 

   

Walking on Broken Paths Review #GayBookPromotions

NEW RELEASE

Book Title: Walking on Broken Paths

Author and Publisher: Amy Aislin

Cover Artist: Morningstar Ashley

Release Date: July 22, 2025

Tense/POV: third person, past tense

Genres: Contemporary M/M Romance

Tropes: Childhood friends to lovers, hurt/comfort, damaged hero, opposites attract, grumpy/sunshine

Heat Rating:  3 flames      

Length: 53 000 words / 210 pages

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

Goodreads

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Direct store 

ebook  |   audiobook  |   bundle 

Blurb

Desperate to escape the pain of his brother’s death, Jesse Melnik ran—but he couldn’t outrun the grief, no matter how much distance he put between himself and his past. Now, after fifteen years of trying, he’s finally ready to face his hometown of Charlottetown again.

He expects the memories of his brother to hover in every corner of his family’s sailboat and whisper in every sea-tinged breeze.

What he doesn’t expect is Parker Willis, the best friend he left behind without a word the day he fled.

And he certainly doesn’t expect old feelings to resurface.

Parker’s been stuck in a rut since his father died three months ago. Every day is the same: try to keep his father’s dinner cruise business afloat so he can chip away at Dad’s debts, all while working a job that leaves him more frustrated than satisfied.

Then Parker’s routine shatters in the best way possible: Jesse Melnik returns to Prince Edward Island for the summer, all six feet three inches of gorgeous hockey player.

Now, that’s different.

Jesse kickstarts Parker’s heart.

 Parker makes Jesse feel again.

And although both men are a little bit damaged from struggling down the broken path of loss, maybe—just maybe—if they can lean on each other, they’ll learn to move forward at last.

Content warnings: themes of grief, discussions of a parent's death from cancer, discussions/descriptions of a sibling's death from suicide 

Excerpt

Jesse glanced over and nearly swallowed his tongue.

How dare running shorts be so goddamn tiny and cling so goddamn nicely to long, shapely legs dusted with hair the same shade as the finest dark chocolate? Jesse was still reeling at being in the same place at the same time as Parker for the first time in years—had, in fact, tossed and turned all night thinking about Parker—and now he showed up out of nowhere again and sent Jesse’s libido into a jumble of desire and yearning?

There were things that Jesse had left in his past, and his attraction to his best friend was supposed to be one of them.

Former best friend? Best friend he’d recently gotten reacquainted with? Former best friend who could be his new best friend?

Fuck. Relationships were hard.

Along with the shorts, Parker also wore a long-sleeved running shirt in teal and a baseball hat with Montreal hockey’s logo on the front. His dark hair curled out from underneath the sides of the hat, and the two-day stubble on his jaw was way sexier than Jesse wanted to admit. He was a couple of inches shorter than Jesse’s six foot three, but whereas Jesse was—admittedly—very big, even for a defenceman, Parker was lanky and toned, the muscle definition obvious in his running gear in a way it hadn’t been in the jeans and Willis Dinner Cruises-branded long-sleeved T-shirt he’d been wearing last night when he’d appeared like a figment of Jesse’s childhood wishes and sat next to him on the bench at the marina.

Whatever he wore, Parker looked like he’d fit into all of Jesse’s empty spaces.

Shaking his head to rid himself of that thought, he shoved his phone back in his pocket and scowled. “I’ll get you a new hat.”

Parker’s lips quirked. “I like this hat.”

“Since when are you a Montreal fan?”

“Hey, don’t knock them. They made it to the playoffs.”

The unlike you was left unsaid, but Jesse heard it loud and clear and refused to be amused.

“So.” Parker’s shoulder bumped up against his. “What are you doing?”

“What are you doing?”

“This is my jogging route.”

“That so?” Jesse would have to remember to be by his window in the mornings so he could watch Parker run by in his short shorts.

“Mm-hmm. Is it your jogging route?”

“No.”

“What are you doing here then?”

Glancing back at the house, Jesse let out a long breath. “Deciding what to tackle first. What colour would you paint that door?”

Parker blinked once and frowned. “Why would you paint it any colour?”

“Because that rusty red makes me think of dead bodies on a crime show?”

“No, I mean . . .” That unique greyish-greenish gaze of Parker’s swung from Jesse to the house and back. “Do you know the people who live here? Are you doing work for them this summer or something?”

“I live here,” Jesse said. “And I don’t want to live with that gross colour for the next two months.”

“You . . . bought a house?”

Jesse grunted.

“But you live in Vancouver,” Parker said slowly, as though reminding Jesse of this fact.

“No, I know, but . . .”

But what? He’d wanted a project for the summer? Something that would keep him occupied so he didn’t have to think about where he was and why he was back for the first time in fifteen years? A fixer-upper was as good a distraction as anything.

His therapist wouldn’t love that he was keeping busy instead of sitting with and analyzing his feelings. But she didn’t have to know. Right?

When Jesse didn’t continue, Parker said, “Are you retiring from hockey and moving back here?”

“Fuck no,” Jesse blurted.

Free Use Image from Open Clipart Vectors

Ornery Owl's Rating:

Five out of Five Stars

Friends to lovers is one of my favorite tropes, and this slow-burn second-chance romance set on beautiful Prince Edward Island delivers. 

Professional hockey star Jesse has come a long way in mending his bad behaviors following his brother's death by suicide fifteen years previously, but his soul is still fractured. 

Parker is unhappy in his dual roles as captain of his late father's harbor tours and writing grant proposals. He misses his days as a sports journalist. 

Parker's world is turned upside down in a good way when Jesse, his childhood best friend and secret crush Jesse returns to Prince Edward Island for the first time in fifteen years.

The way Jesse and Parker slowly but inevitably move from friendship fraught with unspoken desires to a real romantic connection that's built to last is both magical and realistic.

I also appreciated the way the author seamlessly integrated Jesse's brother into the story. Mikey subtly lets Jesse know he's still there, although Jesse can no longer see him. Those who have lost a loved one, whether to suicide or other causes, may take comfort in the idea that our loved ones are always with us, even when they are no longer physically present. 

This story isn't just about romance. It's about real and lasting love in all its forms. Jesse and Parker seem like real people rather than stereotypes. I recommend this book for anyone who is hurting and needs to believe healing is possible, and also for anyone who simply likes a good, solid romance story.

About the Author 

Amy’s lived with her head in the clouds since she first picked up a book as a child, and being fluent in two languages means she’s read a lot of books! She first picked up a pen on a rainy day in fourth grade when her class had to stay inside for recess. Tales of treasure hunts with her classmates eventually morphed into love stories between men, and she’s been writing ever since. She writes evenings and weekends—or whenever she isn’t at her full-time day job saving the planet at Canada’s largest environmental non-profit.

An unapologetic introvert, Amy reads too much and socializes too little, with no regrets. She loves connecting with readers. Join her Facebook Group to stay up-to-date on upcoming releases and for access to early teasers, find her on Instagram, or sign up for her infrequent newsletter.

Social Media Links

Blog/Website  |  Facebook  |  Instagram

Newsletter Sign-up  |  Facebook Group 

Hosted by Gay Book Promotions

Friday Book Blogger Special: Walking on Broken Paths

         

Genre:

Contemporary M/M Romance

Tropes: Childhood friends to lovers, hurt/comfort, damaged hero, opposites attract, grumpy/sunshine

Heat Rating:  3 flames      

Length: 53 000 words / 210 pages

Buy Link:

https://amzn.to/4m5izRq

Publication Date:

July 22, 2025

Book Blurb:

Desperate to escape the pain of his brother’s death, Jesse Melnik ran—but he couldn’t outrun the grief, no matter how much distance he put between himself and his past. Now, after fifteen years of trying, he’s finally ready to face his hometown of Charlottetown again.

He expects the memories of his brother to hover in every corner of his family’s sailboat and whisper in every sea-tinged breeze.

What he doesn’t expect is Parker Willis, the best friend he left behind without a word the day he fled.

And he certainly doesn’t expect old feelings to resurface.

Parker’s been stuck in a rut since his father died three months ago. Every day is the same: try to keep his father’s dinner cruise business afloat so he can chip away at Dad’s debts, all while working a job that leaves him more frustrated than satisfied.

Then Parker’s routine shatters in the best way possible: Jesse Melnik returns to Prince Edward Island for the summer, all six feet three inches of gorgeous hockey player.

Now, that’s different.

Jesse kickstarts Parker’s heart.

Parker makes Jesse feel again.

And although both men are a little bit damaged from struggling down the broken path of loss, maybe—just maybe—if they can lean on each other, they’ll learn to move forward at last.

Content warnings: themes of grief, discussions of a parent’s death from cancer, descriptions/discussions of a sibling’s death by suicide.

The First Line/Book Beginnings

https://www.rosecityreader.com/

https://readingismysuperpower.org/

He should’ve called.

That was Jesse Melnik’s first thought as he pulled into the driveway of his childhood home on Prince Edward Island.

The Friday 56

http://www.fredasvoice.com/

Early July in Toronto was hot, but it hadn’t hit the level of gross mugginess that would surely come within the next couple of weeks.

About the Author

Amy’s lived with her head in the clouds since she first picked up a book as a child, and being fluent in two languages means she’s read a lot of books! She first picked up a pen on a rainy day in fourth grade when her class had to stay inside for recess. Tales of treasure hunts with her classmates eventually morphed into love stories between men, and she’s been writing ever since. She writes evenings and weekends—or whenever she isn’t at her full-time day job saving the planet at Canada’s largest environmental non-profit.

An unapologetic introvert, Amy reads too much and socializes too little, with no regrets. She loves connecting with readers. Join her Facebook Group to stay up-to-date on upcoming releases and for access to early teasers, find her on Instagram, or sign up for her infrequent newsletter.

Book Blogger Hop

Book Blogger Hop

1st - What book are you currently reading? What made you choose this title to read? 

(submitted by Billy @ Coffee Addicted Writer)

I am writing a (late) review for this book. However, I selected it because I enjoy m/m sports romance, and also because I resonated with the fact that the protagonists had both experienced loss of a family member. I became a sixty-year-old orphan this year when my mother passed away in February. My father has been gone since November 28, 2010. 

Follow our Start page to keep up with the latest from the Naughty Netherworld Press crew.

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If you don’t already have an Audible subscription, click the link below to get started with your 30-day free trial and grab yourself some late summer listens. You’re welcome.

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The Coach's Daughter New Release Blitz #IndiGo

Title:  The Coach’s Daughter

Series: Good Sports, Book Four

Author: Alex Winters

Publisher:  NineStar Press

Release Date: 07/22/2025

Heat Level: 3 - Some Sex

Pairing: Female/Female

Length: 24600

Genre: Contemporary, Romance, sports, new adult, lesbian, university, running team, freshman, father/daughter relationship

Add to Goodreads

Description

Hastings’ life is finally on track: a freshman on the Haversham University cross country team, independent, and on her own for the first time in nineteen years, she’s fit, frisky and finally free of the constraints of living back home in smalltown South Carolina. Free to be herself, to dip her toe into the waters of girl-on-girl romance for the first time in her life. And when she sets her eyes on the sultry redhead she sees conferring with their track coach one day, she’s sure she’s found the object of her affections. The girl who might finally take her V-card and teach her the ways of feminine affection, once and for all. The only problem: she’s the coach’s daughter!

Peyton Billings is at her third college in as many years, thanks to her father’s wandering eye, philandering zipper, and fiery tongue. Never one to play by the rules, Dawson Billings has been kicked off every track team he’s coached so far, finally landing him at the small, Division Three school of Haversham University. And, in the process, dragging his daughter Peyton along for the ride. She’s not happy about the move until she spots a fiery, sexy, long-limbed runner one day after practice, never sensing that Summer Hastings will be her undoing, in all the best possible ways.

Excerpt

The Coach’s Daughter

Alex Winters © 2025

All Rights Reserved

Chapter One

SUMMER

“Hubba, hubba.”

Summer Hastings glanced over at her new teammate, Kendra Miller, and rolled her eyes. “Girl,” she said with a droll expression, dabbing her face with one of the cooling towels on the break station by the side of the track. “You can’t ‘hubba, hubba’ every new guy you see.”

Kendra, ebony skin aglow under the late afternoon sun, reached for a bottle of water. “Why not?” she asked, screwing off the cap before chugging half the bottle in one long, sensual swallow.

“I dunno.” Summer didn’t really have a reason for her admonition; she was just tired of hearing Kendra fawn over every male she came into eye contact with. “It starts to lose its meaning after a while, I suppose.”

Kendra paused, nodding at the latest “hubba, hubba” recipient in question, none other than their cross-country coach, Dawson Billings. “Not to me it doesn’t,” she snorted, tossing her empty water bottle in the recycling bin beside the break table.

Summer followed her friend’s gaze to their coach, a fit, lean, rigid slice of man with salt-and-pepper curls, a barrel chest, and three-day stubble who looked to be in his early to mid-forties. She shrugged and trailed after Kendra, who’d jogged off for another cool down lap as their practice wound down for the day.

“Maybe you should have a ratings system,” Summer huffed playfully, nudging Kendra as they ran together. “You know, Hubba-Hubba Level One and Level Two or something.”

Kendra frowned, sinewy arms pumping as they loped around the smooth, red clay colored track, side by side and stride by stride. “Is two higher or lower than one on this rating system of yours?”

Summer chuckled, rushing along behind a series of other runners on the cross-country team, most of them upperclassmen returning from the previous year. As two of the only six incoming freshman, Summer and Kendra had quickly bonded during Welcome Week, a ten-day kind of “soft opening” to the fall semester at small but exclusive Haversham University in quaint and picturesque Briar Ridge, Tennessee.

“I feel like one would be the hottest rating, like Defcon Hubba-Hubba, and ten would be the lowest, like…Ho Hum Hubba-Hubba.”

Kendra nodded like she was actually considering the notion, soft black stubble atop her head glistening in the shimmering prelude to twilight that smothered the little valley they were in with a most flattering auburn glow. “But isn’t a hot guy considered a ten, so…”

Summer grew distracted, motion out of the corner of her eye signaling a “hubba, hubba” of her own as a smooth, sexy siren inched closer to their coach on soft, silken legs so smooth they glowed in the late afternoon sunlight. “Or a woman…” she said so softly she doubted Kendra heard over the slapping of their high-tech running shoes on the even higher tech track surface.

She struggled to ignore the newcomer as they rounded the track for another pass past their coach and the sultry, auburn-haired beauty by his side. But she wasn’t the only one to notice. “Who’s this now?” Kendra huffed as they approached, watching their coach and the sexy newcomer chuckle over something on a clipboard she was showing him.

Summer snorted at her overdramatic friend. “Guess you’re not the only one who thinks Coach is Hubba-Hubba Defcon One, Kendra.”

“Witch,” Kendra puffed as they cruised by, careful to avert their eyes less their ire—or, in Summer’s case, desire—be noticed by the feather-ruffling newcomer and her snicker-inducing clipboard.

Summer smiled secretly to herself, glancing up just as they passed to notice the sexy ginger look up as well. Their eyes locked for a moment, maybe less, and Summer felt the thrill of allure as their gaze lingered that one second longer than perhaps it should have, given the circumstances.

It was Summer who broke it first, looking down at her shoes and nearly stumbling as she struggled to keep up with Kendra, who had pulled a few paces ahead. “We’re supposed to be cooling down, remember?” She forced herself not to glance back at the sidelines.

“Sorry,” Kendra chuckled, slowing her roll and letting Summer catch up. “Little Miss Pigtails got me all heated over here!”

Summer nodded for very different reasons. “Same, girl,” she muttered, the soft, vaguely yearning sound of her voice drowned out by the gentle slapping of rubber soles on track coating beneath them. “Same.”

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NineStar Press | Books2Read

Meet the Author

Alex Winters is an Amazon bestselling romance author with a passion for holiday music, junk food, cheesy 80s horror movies and Epcot. His stories in the Good Sports series for NineStar Press tend to be sizzling and sweet, with a whole lot of laughs—and spice—along the way! Visit him at www.amazon.com/author/awintersromance to see what he’s cooking up next!

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Skate City New Release Blitz #IndiGo

Title:  Skate City

Series: Good Sports, Book Three

Author: Alex Winters

Publisher:  NineStar Press

Release Date: 01/21/2025

Heat Level: 3 - Some Sex

Pairing: Female/Female

Length: 22100

Genre: Contemporary, Romance, contemporary, lesbian, sports, skate shop, skateboarder

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Description

All Zoe Chamberlain wanted was to buy a skateboard for her one of her perpetually late employees. Was that so hard? It shouldn’t have been, yet the minute Zoe walks into Skate City to finish up her shopping, the fiery young redhead behind the counter captures her eye, and her heart, from their first interaction. Sarcastic, funny, witty, and bold, the counter girl—Astrid—makes quick work of Zoe’s resolve and charms her with every fiery retort and sly, leering glance. It’s not quite love at first sight, more like…love at first fight! And Zoe is here for every sexy minute of it!

Astrid Woolf never imagined herself falling for the curvy MILF who walked into Skate City that day, but Zoe was unlike any woman she’d ever met before, and she was desperate to see her again. So, she improvises a lot and fibs a little, convincing Zoe that not only are the boards she’s looking at buy one get one free, but that a complimentary skateboard lesson comes with every purchase. But it’s a limited time offer: one night only! Zoe hesitantly but inevitably agrees and, after work the following night, Astrid meets her behind the bakery Zoe owns to teach her how to skate. Only, Zoe has other plans in mind, and before the night is over, the teacher will become the student, learning just what it means to please another woman, and be pleased in return. It’s a night neither woman will ever forget, but one they’ll want to revisit, time and time again…

Excerpt

Skate City
Alex Winters © 2025
All Rights Reserved
Chapter One

ZOE

“Is this…for you?”

Zoe Chamberlain registered the dramatic look on the young cashier’s face and blanched. Miserably. She’d been hesitant about walking into the too-cool-for-school skate shop in the first place, and this comely cashier had just confirmed Zoe’s suspicions that she was, in fact, thoroughly and irretrievably uncool.

“Obviously not, but so what if it was?”

The counter girl, fresh-faced and freckled with charming auburn pigtails and a creamy soft lip gloss Zoe ached to taste, gave her another cool once-over, like maybe she’d wandered into the wrong nightclub and needed to be escorted out.

Pronto.

Zoe half-expected a bouncer to show up at any moment. “Nothing, it’s just…do you need to check with the nursing home first? They might not approve of such a rash purchase.”

Zoe rolled her eyes and glanced around the empty skate shop, a bare bones affair that was so cavalier about its warehouse-inspired aesthetic it just had to be good. In the background, lowkey punk music completed the grunge vibe. “Is this how you treat all your customers?” she teased, knowing the sassy clerk was just giving her the business—and wishing she didn’t enjoy it so very much.

The wispy redhead, tall and gangly in her baby-doll-blue Skate City T-shirt with the pink cuffs and collar, met her gaze with cool green eyes, as languid as they were searching. “Not really, but it’s not every day a MILF walks in to buy a cherry-red skateboard, so I’m at a slight disadvantage at the moment.”

“I’m not a mother!” Zoe huffed, hoping the blush she felt dampening her panties didn’t extend all the way to her cheeks. “And? Gross?”

The counter girl blushed as well but met Zoe’s eyes with the indignance of a young woman clearly confident in who she was. And, apparently, what she wanted. “Maybe not, but…”

Zoe waved her hands, as nervously as she did demonstratively. She wasn’t used to such flagrant come-ons. At least, not since she’d graduated high school a good dozen years earlier. She ran a bakery for Pete’s sake. A nice, wholesome, independently owned bakery specializing in muffins and cupcakes, at that. This—this flagrant sexiness wasn’t a part of her daily routine, though Zoe couldn’t actually say she wasn’t into it. Not that she’d let the sexy skater girl behind the counter know, of course.

“Listen, let’s start over,” Zoe cautioned, feeling as if she’d just stepped into some kind of red-light district, as yet unknown to her despite living in tiny Sunset, South Carolina her entire life. She extended a cautious hand, somehow sensing that if the saucy cashier took it, Zoe might never let it go.

The redhead brightened, standing a little taller and extending a pale hand with long fingers, many of them covered in cheap silver rings that shimmered in the warehouse’s extensive track lighting. “Good idea,” she chirped, squeezing Zoe’s hand so familiarly, so warmly, it was as if they’d known each other for years. “Welcome to Skate City! I’m Astrid. And you are?”

“Astrid?” Zoe gave her a little nose wrinkle for good measure, slithering her hand out of the cashier’s grip before she could detect Zoe’s sweaty palms and the sudden tremors that seemed to rack her entire body. “Is that a real name?”

Astrid jutted out her youthful chin as predictably as she did defiantly. “I mean, is Zoe?”

“How did I say my name?” This time, Zoe did in fact look around the industrial-size skate shop, as if someone with a cue card bearing her name might be standing just behind her.

Astrid leaned over the counter, small breasts pressing against the pale blue of her clingy T-shirt. Tapped Zoe’s nametag as familiarly as she did everything else. “What? You forgot you came straight from work?”

Zoe glanced down at herself, her faded black Sunset Sweets work shirt dusted with flour and, naturally, bearing her crooked nametag just above her left breast. She blushed anew, feeling flustered and seen in ways she hadn’t in, quite literally, years. She still wasn’t sure how she felt about that yet, but part of her wished she’d just gone to the generic skate shop on the Strip like she’d intended to. Those stores were usually so busy Zoe certainly wouldn’t have been able to receive the, uh, personal attention she was currently getting at this grungy skate shop just off the Strip.

“I guess I did,” she said quietly, her hip sagging against the countertop, littered with vibrant pastel and neon Skate City stickers. “I didn’t think this would be quite so hard.”

Astrid apparently took pity on her, inching around from the counter on predictably long legs, topped by a pair of frayed denim shorts so small they could have qualified as bikini bottoms. “Listen, sorry, you’re my first customer all day and I didn’t mean to come on quite so strong.”

Zoe wasn’t letting her off the hook so easily, endless legs and small, perky breasts notwithstanding. “I mean, MILF? I should ask to speak to your manager, young lady…”

Astrid beamed, tugging on her own nametag, hiding just beneath one of her auburn pigtails. “That’d be me too, so…”

“Aren’t you a little young to be a manager?”

Astrid smirked. “I’m not as young as I look.”

“And I’m not as old as I apparently look, so…”

Astrid leaned back against the counter, a hand on either side of her impossibly narrow waist, as if posing for, well, a skater girl catalog. “You act like I insulted you or something.”

“Did I say that? I just wanted to buy a skateboard, that’s all.”

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NineStar Press | Books2Read

Meet the Author

Alex Winters is the pseudonym of a busy restaurant manager whose curious young staff would love nothing more than to follow him around the dining room reading his steamiest, most romantic passages aloud! When not writing romantic holiday stories of various heat levels, he enjoys long walks with his wife, scary movies, and smooth jazz. Visit him social media to see what stories are brewing up next!

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Racing Hearts New Release Blitz #IndiGo

Title:  Racing Hearts

Series: Good Sports, Book Two

Author: Alex Winters

Publisher:  NineStar Press

Release Date: 10/22/2024

Heat Level: 3 - Some Sex

Pairing: Female/Female

Length: 23500

Genre: Contemporary, contemporary, family-drama, lesbian, second chance, runner, realtor

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Description

Riley Hunter was the dependable one. The good girl, loyal to a fault and faithful to the end. She’d had big dreams, once upon a time, until her grandfather got sick and she had to give up going away to college to care for him. Now, a year after his passing, Riley is a townie through and through, doing social media for a local realtor and happy with her daily grind. Or, at least, content. Content, that is, until she literally runs into her old high school crush during her morning jog one random weekday in the middle of May. The morning jog they used to run together, before Piper left three years ago, that is. Left without looking back…

Piper McPhee couldn’t wait to leave tiny Jasper, North Carolina. To run away from her abusive mother. Her dysfunctional home life. Her cloying friends and, most of all, her confused feeling about girls. And how much she adored them. The only thing she regretted leaving behind was Riley, sweet, sexy Riley. Her first and only female crush. But after three years at State, and a recent avalanche of failed romances, she can’t wait to come back to town. More specifically, come back to Riley. As the two girls pick up their old habit of running together every morning, they struggle to reconnect and realize it’s because they’re no longer friends. Or, at least, just friends. And in the days to come they’ll connect in ever increasing ways, becoming lovers at long last and realizing just how much they’ve missed by denying their feelings for far too long. And, happily, making up for lost time one scintillating tryst at a time…

Excerpt

Racing Hearts

Alex Winters © 2024

All Rights Reserved

Chapter One

Riley

“The hell?”

Riley Hunter did a quick stutter-step onto the sidewalk, used to having the whole of her big, wide suburban street to herself at this admittedly ungodly hour. Instead, she was suddenly sharing it with a rattletrap pickup truck in some sickly shade of mustard yellow, the crooked bumper covered in a hodgepodge tapestry of faded Northern Carolina State bumper stickers, as it grumbled by at an almost luxurious pace.

Riley took a break from glaring at the ramshackle bumper, afraid it might fall off in the middle of the street, and glanced up at the sky, familiar shades of orange, blue, and black as her morning run straddled the last of nightfall and the beginning of daybreak.

The truck’s brake lights faded around the corner as it wound clumsily along toward the cul-de-sac at the end of Sycamore Street. Riley shook it off and slipped back from the sidewalk onto the blacktop, pink-and-white running shoes finding familiar footing as she wound down her morning jog, savoring the cool dawn air as it washed over her sweaty body.

In the vague distance, the truck’s engine still hummed, the only sound for miles as the sleepy little town of Jasper, North Carolina slumbered through the last of the night, hours away from waking. It was what made her morning runs so appealing, despite the ungodly hour: an entire town, quiet and sleepy, all to herself.

Not that little Jasper was ever quite bustling or hectic to begin with, but there was something to be said about the solitude of an early morning run, the peace and quiet of empty streets, hers for the taking. Winking stoplights glowing just for her, no traffic jams or waiting at crosswalks, no barking dogs or passing school buses; nothing but her, the road beneath her feet, and the familiar sights, sounds, and even smells of her tiny hometown.

Most mornings, anyway. But this morning, she was sharing her long, meandering street with a noisy, rusty, unfamiliar interloper. Some college kid delivering papers, perhaps? Or some burned-out frat partier heading home after a rowdy kegger, heading off to bed as her day was newly beginning? Riley wasn’t curious, per se, just ticked off that the best part of her run, the quiet, slow, leisurely cool-off down the last of her street, had been ruined by some rattletrap junk heap at the ass crack of dawn.

“Chill, Riley,” she told herself, musing quietly with the last of her breath. “You sound like Old Mrs. Johnson when you and Piper used to drag your asses home after some high school party!”

Thus, she rounded the corner that led to her house, finding the piss-yellow truck parked crookedly in front of Piper’s old house. As she watched, transfixed, the driver’s side door opened and none other than her old teammate, and first lady crush, unfolded from the seat, one velvety-smooth, irresistible inch at a time.

“Speak of the devil,” Riley murmured, heart racing as she padded closer to the house at the end of the street, legs suddenly as unsteady as her trembling knees.

Purchase

NineStar Press | Books2Read

Meet the Author

Alex Winters is the pseudonym of a busy restaurant manager whose curious young staff would love nothing more than to follow him around the dining room reading his steamiest, most romantic passages aloud! When not writing romantic holiday stories of various heat levels, he enjoys long walks with his wife, scary movies, and smooth jazz. Visit him social media to see what stories are brewing up next!

Website | Facebook | Twitter | Instagram

Giveaway

One lucky winner will receive a $50.00 NineStar Press Gift Code! 

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JFH New Release Blitz #IndiGo

Title:  JFH: Justin F**king Halstead

Author: GiGi DeGraham

Publisher:  NineStar Press

Release Date: 07/16/2024

Heat Level: 3 - Some Sex

Pairing: Male/Male

Length: 80200

Genre: Contemporary Sports, contemporary, new adult, gay, friends to lovers, geeks, sports, athletes, university students, professional football, celebrities, sexual assault, disabilities, closeted, family dynamics, hurt/comfort

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Description

Ethan Andrews never saw Justin Halstead coming. A broody jock with a propensity for studying. A hot-mess conundrum who, for some reason, continues to show up at Ethan’s dorm room door.

Something is happening between them, but one particular sport stands in the way. Ethan never imagined falling for an overbearing, overprotective athlete with a Hall of Fame future and a secret heart of gold.

Taking the giant leap out of the closet nearly killed Ethan, and no one seems to understand his desire to close that door and stay inside his safe place. Strangely, Ethan finds he’s not alone, and it’s with the last person he ever expected to be his biggest supporter…

Future NFL Quarterback—Justin F**king Halstead.

(A trope-bending love story)

Excerpt

JFH: Justin F**king Halstead

GiGi DeGraham © 2024

All Rights Reserved

Chapter One

Justin

Justin ran his hand over his jean-covered thigh and brought the other up to his forehead, shielding his eyes as he focused on his textbook, seeing nothing. Don’t look, don’t look, he told himself as his knee began to bounce. His fingers pulled the curved and frayed brim of his ballcap lower as if it could camouflage him. Justin pinched the bridge of his nose, and he knew he was going to do it. Down to his soul, he couldn’t not look. He couldn’t resist it—this undeniable urge. It happened every time.

And he looked.

It was the guy.

Ethan Andrews was supposed to be studying for an end-of-the-first-week fall quiz just like Justin, but currently, he joked around with his study group, who all shushed one another through their bouts of laughter in the library. Ethan grinned, nodding convincingly through his fight, gripping his side as if in pain. His shoulders shook, his head moving back and forth in what seemed like a desperate plea to make it stop. The others in the group were nearly goners, too, as they tried to abide by the library aide, who warned them once again. This was her third trek back to their table. Something over there was beyond funny. The entire group was on the verge of getting kicked out of the fourth-floor study lounge.

Justin’s cheek pinched as he tried not to smile himself. He’d seen Ethan Andrews in action like this before. He was just funny, or so Justin thought, though he’d never actually been in on the joke since he didn’t even know the guy. When Justin would see him on campus, Ethan was always with others: a friend or someone from a class. Justin rarely saw him alone. There never seemed to be an opportunity to strike up a conversation or accidentally bump into him. Not that Justin would.

But he’d turned this strange obsession into a terrible habit, this expert-level Ethan-watching. So, Justin wasn’t buying it, not when he caught the brief moments that made him wonder. The ones overlooked by others when Justin saw those barely there glimpses of sadness concealed behind brave smiles and mixed in with the guffaws. He peeked between his fingers. And there, that little swallow, the quick glance downward, and Justin waited for it. The telltale subconscious rub of fingers across the forehead before Ethan went right back to laughing.

The girl working as an aide approached the table again. This time, her firm fists were pissed-off-planted on her hips. She waved around at the other students trying to study, and Justin quickly looked down again. The entire table turned to take in the only other student on the floor: him.

Justin flipped the geology lab workbook page so he wouldn’t look suspicious, but he hadn’t read a damn thing since Ethan had arrived and joined the group. This guy was everywhere, all the time. At the Coffee Stop, in the science lab, in his geology class, running around the track, in the gym, and now, in one of the last places Justin thought he’d see him, in the library. The one place Justin thought he’d be safe from his one-and-only distraction and the constantly nagging question: Which was the real Ethan?

Realizing he couldn’t do it, not with Ethan-ology overshadowing geology, Justin packed up his things, slipped out, and headed back to his dorm. He’d have to try to study there. Though it was nearly impossible to concentrate in his room, with all the testosterone and adrenaline-driven antics in the hallways, a football always flying, or someone knocking on the door every five minutes to see if he wanted to join them or go to a party.

Despite the chaos, at least he’d be free from the close proximity of Ethan Andrews in the library. Justin sighed; his reaction to the guy confused him more every time. Yeah, he knew what his mind and body were trying to tell him, but it was also something he could never pursue. Sure, the world had changed in leaps and bounds, but if he wanted to play ball, he had to keep that shit locked down. Oh, the NHL had tried it with “Pride Night” and special jerseys, but even they’d skated that back faster than a five-hole slap shot.

The media vultures were waiting for someone else to get outed in any sport, not just football, and it wouldn’t be Justin. At least two big leaguers had come out, but still. Not when he was only in his second year of college ball. Not when he didn’t even know for himself. And his parents, he didn’t think they would care. They weren’t the problem. Justin knew exactly who the problem was.

Justin unlocked the door to his dorm room, dodging bodies roughhousing, and dropped his backpack on the bed. Frustrated with himself, he pulled out his books and began again. He was a good twenty minutes into preparing for the quiz the next day when he realized he’d left his phone and some of his notes at the library. Justin squeezed his eyes closed tight for a moment.

I can be such a dumbass sometimes.

Justin knocked on his suitemate’s door. He used Shawn’s phone to call himself, hoping someone, the aide—he prayed—would hear it buzzing on the plastic seat. That hope died, swirled a few times, and went right down the drain when someone else answered his phone.

“This is Justin Halstead’s phone,” a guy said, and Justin ran a frustrated hand over his face, already knowing who had his phone.

“This is Justin,” he said.

“Oh, hey, Justin, this is Ethan Andrews,” Ethan said.

Of course, it is.

Justin could only shake his head. This is what he got for being so distracted, a lurker—an Ethan-watcher—and here came karma. Maybe not a lurker since that was creepy, but Justin was…well, very aware of Ethan, like, constantly aware. Yeah, he was going with that word choice and steering clear of anything sounding more stalkerish. He definitely wasn’t that guy.

Ethan’s bright and teasing tone didn’t falter. “Yeah, I guess you figured out you left your phone in the library. And who knew you took such copious notes, Justin Halstead.” Then, he laughed.

Justin was momentarily distracted by the sound of Ethan’s great laugh. He could hear papers shuffling in the background and then a pen being intentionally clicked several times.

“Nice pen, too,” Ethan said.

“Uh…” Justin had no words, hoping Ethan would keep talking. Keep laughing. And holy shit, Ethan knew his name, his full name.

“It’s really smooth; the ink just glides. No wonder your notes are so neat,” Ethan said.

Justin silently agreed. It was a great pen, a wide-point TUL, and it was like writing with soft butter. Justin liked it because it felt faster than most, and he could get everything down before his professor moved on.

“Yeah, um, I like it,” Justin said, sounding like an idiot. He shook his head; Jesus, he could do better than this.

Ethan belted out a laugh. “Tell me how you really feel.”

There was a pause Justin didn’t fill.

“All right,” Ethan continued, “down to business, it seems. Where are you? I’ll swing by and drop off your things. I’m about to leave the library now.”

“Yeah, I’m at the football dorm.” Justin’s knee was at it again, and he pressed his heel to the floor to make it stop. He glanced at Shawn’s phone screen when there was no response.

Ethan let out a nervous laugh. “Eh, maybe you come pick it up from me, then?”

“Nah, man, it’s cool. You guys were studying for the quiz, right?” Justin asked, slightly panicked as his suitemate walked into his room and glanced at him.

“‘It’s cool,’ he says. Me in the football dorm,” Ethan said slowly, questioningly.

“It is. Just come up the stairs, and I’m in 214. And thanks for finding my things.”

“Yep. Anything good on here I can snoop through?”

Justin thought for a moment. “Hardly, but, hey, thanks again.”

“Yeah,” Ethan said and hung up.

Justin thanked Shawn as he handed the phone back to him. “I left mine at the library.”

Glancing around, Justin made sure his shit was squared away in his room after Shawn left. His heart hammered, and the shirt beneath his armpits began to feel sweaty.

Holy shit.

Ethan Andrews was coming to his room. Justin could finally get his answer. He frowned. Maybe getting his answers wasn’t the greatest idea because then Justin would have no reason to continue keeping an eye on Ethan.

Purchase

NineStar Press | Books2Read

Meet the Author

GiGi DeGraham lives, plays, and learns in New Orleans. She is a proud southerner and enjoys fixing up old houses and writing. Most of her story and character ideas develop while sanding and painting. She loves to roller skate and has a favorite author-named cat called Irving, after Washington Irving. You’ll always find her with an audiobook in her ear and listening to everything narrated by Kirt Graves. 

GiGi prefers the outdoors when the weather permits, going on rock and fossil hunts or visiting local rock shops. Otherwise, she’s clacking away at her keyboard until the wee hours. GiGi firmly believes downtime should be spent on a porch swing. GiGi is a life-long supporter of the LGBTQ+ community.

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One lucky winner will receive a $50.00 NineStar Press Gift Code! 

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