Showing posts with label #mmfiction. Show all posts
Showing posts with label #mmfiction. Show all posts

Sunday, September 13, 2026

Book Tour Stop: Andrew Grey's Heart of a Hero

 


Title: Heart of a Hero

Series: Gentle Giants Book 2

Author: Andrew Grey

Genre: M/M Contemporary Romance/Military

Release Date: Mar 3, 2026

Edition/Formats Available In: eBook & Print


Forrest Scoville has long accepted that his size intimidates people, but he refuses to let it keep him from his dream of teaching kindergarten. His students adore him, although some of their parents are questioning whether he's fit to teach such young students.

Conrad Langdon is one of those parents. His daughter, Lizzy, who recently lost her mother, is shy around everyone except Forrest. That gives Conrad hope, but he has a history with big, muscular men, so he's reserving judgment.

Still, it's hard not to be won over by the gentle heart that hides inside the giant's body, a heart that helps Conrad open his own as much as it helps Lizzy begin to heal. Unfortunately, that doesn't change the conflict of interest of Forrest being his daughter's teacher.

When they discover a common interest in Lego models, it looks like they could really build something together, if they can overcome the forces threatening to drive them apart.

Book Links

Amazon

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Forrest could hardly believe it was only the second week of school and blood had
already been drawn. The kids were at recess, and he was outside the principal’s office

with Billy Harper and Lizzie Langdon. He had seen Billy pull Lizzie’s hair, and he also
saw her turn and punch Billy right in the nose. She really let him have it.
“What’s with the fisticuffs?” Harlon Brown asked when Forrest went into his office. “I
understand that you have a bloody nose on your hands.”
“Yes, we do,” he began as a knock sounded on the door. Then it cracked open.
“Mr. Langdon is here.” His assistant said.
“Send him in,” Harlon told her, and Conrad came in, dressed in tan pants and a
lavender polo shirt. “We seem to have a problem,” Harlon began.
“Yes, you do,” Conrad said, glaring at Harlon as though he were ready to take his head
off. “Lizzie had told me twice about Billy pulling her hair in class. I sent Mr. Scoville a
note about it.”
“And I took Billy aside for it. He even said sorry to Lizzie. But as I was about to say
before you arrived, I saw Billy do it again today, and I saw Lizzie whale on him.” He
couldn’t help smiling. “Harlon, he deserved it, and she was only defending herself.”
Conrad crossed his arms over his chest. “So what are you going to do about it?”
“According to the rules, they both should be suspended for three days.”
“Right,” Conrad said as he approached the desk, like he was a prowling lion and Harlon
was a damned gazelle. “So she gets attacked, repeatedly, and finally defends herself,
and she gets in trouble?” He drew even closer. “So what are you going to do if I decide
to punch you in the face? Sit there and take it or defend yourself? That is what she was
doing.”
Harlon put his hands up. “There is no need to resort to that. I get your point. Billy will not
be suspended either, but I will be talking to his parents. And when they see their son, I
suspect I’m going to get an earful from them too.”


Author Information 

Andrew grew up in western Michigan with a father who loved to tell stories and a mother who loved to read them. Since then, he has lived throughout the country and traveled throughout the world. He has a master’s degree from the University of Wisconsin-Milwaukee and works in information systems for a large corporation.

Andrew’s hobbies include collecting antiques, gardening, and leaving his dirty dishes anywhere but in the sink (particularly when writing) He considers himself blessed with an accepting family, fantastic friends, and the world’s most supportive and loving partner. Andrew currently lives in beautiful, historic Carlisle, Pennsylvania.

Author Links

Amazon Author Page

Barnes and Noble Page

Dreamspinner Press

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Facebook Group All the Way with Andrew Grey

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X (Twitter )@andrewgreybooks

Website



Wednesday, July 29, 2026

Tour Stop/Giveaway: Aidan and the Alien Invasion by Damian Serbu

Title: Aidan and the Alien Invasion

Series: Arrival, Book One

Author: Damian Serbu

Publisher:  NineStar Press

Release Date: 07/28/2026

Heat Level: 3 - Some Sex

Pairing: Male/Male

Length: 286

Genre: Sci Fi, Sci-Fi, futuristic, new adult, aliens, college, coming of age, geeks, nerds, interspecies, slow burn/UST

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Description

Aliens seize control of Earth, descending without warning, cutting off communication systems and crushing military resistance. Aidan and his friends flee home from Chicago to rural Michigan, but learn the aliens control the entire planet.

Their leaders have dark intentions that Aidan and his friends uncover when they fall in with a revolutionary faction of aliens who desperately seek to save humanity. Human aid to the revolutionaries’ cause is essential but dangerous. As secrets and surprising histories are revealed, Aidan adds to his own chaos when he drifts into an unlikely romance.

As if ADHD and dealing with young adulthood weren’t enough stress, Aidan has to navigate his role in the conflict, as well as embrace his heart’s desire with an unexpected ally.

Excerpt

Aidan and the Alien Invasion
Damian Serbu © 2026
All Rights Reserved
Chapter One
Visitors

“What the heck!” Jarvis exclaimed as he stared at the television when Aidan walked into the common area. “Have you seen this?”

Aidan glanced at the TV, wondering why his quad mate called his attention to some disaster movie he decided to watch in the middle of the day. Aidan ignored him and went to the fridge to grab an energy drink. He glanced out the window at the Chicago skyline, glistening in the afternoon sun.

Aidan squinted into the bright light, confused to see a Star Destroyer instead of an airplane heading for downtown. Maybe Ellie had a point last night when she told him to stop watching so much Star Wars.

“Dude!” Jarvis shouted, startling Aidan and turning his attention away from the window and back to the TV. Aidan grew alarmed at Jarvis yelling at him, for the first time he could ever remember. “Look!” Jarvis jabbed his finger toward the screen over and over.

Aidan walked over and stood behind Jarvis, who let his arm fall to his side as he sat on the couch, mesmerized.

Okay, so the movie impressed Aidan with its realistic scene. Everything appeared as if they watched one of the major news networks reporting on an alien invasion of Washington, DC. The news logo was prominently displayed in one corner with the time of day, the scroll across the bottom ran with the latest news, and in a tiny inset box, the anchor talked in a somber tone about the main event on the screen.

Speaking of Star Wars, most of the TV screen showed a lame rip-off of a Star Destroyer hovering over the US Capitol and stretching all the way to the White House. Shaped in the same triangular fashion, the movie Jarvis watched only bothered to change the appearance with a smooth, shiny gold surface and no other extended pieces of ship, guns, or protrusions. So they went with a golden Star Destroyer phallic kind of shape.

But the newswoman looked scared shitless. Seemed realistic. Aidan was impressed the movie producers got an actual anchor to appear in the film, and she could act well enough to sound believable.

“What are we gonna do?” Jarvis asked Aidan, his usual authoritative voice quivering.

“Huh?”

Jarvis pointed to the TV again. “We need to get out of here. But where can anyone be safe? They’ll come here too. They could go anywhere.”

“Have you been drinking?” Aidan asked. “What movie are you watching, anyway?”

“Dude!” Jarvis screamed even louder. “That’s not a darn movie! Real, dude. Real. Happening now.”

Aidan scrutinized the television more closely, and his heart raced. He grabbed the remote and hit the guide button to verify his fear. Jarvis was watching the actual news, not a movie.

“Holy fuck! They really invaded Earth? Are you sure? What are we going to do?” Aidan took his turn to shout in alarm as he dropped the energy drink.

“I asked you those questions already!” Jarvis launched off the couch. “Okay. Stay calm.” He pointed toward the spilled drink on the carpet. “Clean up, dude. No. Scratch that. We gotta go. Now.” He returned to his more staid and thoughtful self, but his body language gave off a sense of urgency.

Which was good, because Aidan prepared to lose his shizzle. “Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit. Two major problems.” Aidan and Jarvis stared at each other across the couch as Aidan spoke in an increasingly high-pitched whine. “We don’t have a car. And they’re almost here.” Aidan pointed toward the window.

Jarvis and he turned their attention to the skyline, where the supposed airplane of earlier flew at a slow rate toward downtown Chicago, coming close enough to show them the truth. An enormous gold triangular-shaped craft loomed on the horizon. It matched the spaceship taking over Washington, DC.

Jarvis clutched Aidan by the shoulders. “Pack a bag. Fast. Take whatever you need. Like we got two minutes to get out of here.”

Aidan loved a man in charge, even if the particular man commanding him was straight, so he launched into motion without thinking. He hurried to his room, grabbed his backpack, and threw in his computer, a couple of sentimental items from the top of his desk, and his favorite clothes from a drawer. The flurry of activity helped alleviate a little of his ADHD reaction to a major stress event. His mom’s voice in his noggin also reminded him to take deep breaths. He’d crammed in as much as possible and scanned his belongings when Jarvis yelled from the living room.

“Now, dude! Aidan?” Jarvis ran into Aidan’s room and pulled on his arm. “We gotta go.”

Aidan followed Jarvis into the common area as they sprinted toward the door, but Jarvis lurched to a stop.

“Wait.” Jarvis stared down at Aidan. “Where are we going?”

“Shit!” Aidan screamed. “I was following you. I assumed you had the next move figured out! You plan months in advance. You have your life all dialed in for, like, the next thirty years!” He knew he sputtered along like an unhinged lunatic, but rising to an emergency never was one of his strengths. He pointed at Jarvis. “You sounded like you had a plan. I thought you had a plan!”

Jarvis jabbed a finger toward the window. “Well, I forgot to factor major alien invasion into my future. I’ll recalibrate for these visitors, but for now, I doubt we have time to do much more than get out.”

Aidan nodded as they stared with vacant, fearful expressions at each other.

“We don’t have a car.” Aidan shrugged. “I doubt the El will get us far enough away. Uber. Taxis.” Aidan shook his head. “Not gonna work. I mean, I assume they all roared out of town or got riders already. I got nothing.”

Jarvis nodded agreement. “Yeah. Me neither. But staying here seems like a super bad idea.”

“Why?” Aidan asked. The safety of the residential hall and ignoring the crisis had a certain allure suddenly.

“Why?” Jarvis shot back. “Why? Aliens!”

“I know. I know. But are we fleeing because of danger or because we think we should flee?”

Jarvis squinted at Aidan. “You gotta make sense if you want an answer.”

“I mean, are they Sigourney Weaver nasty aliens or E.T. coming for a visit and some tea? How do we know if we should panic?”

“How would I know?” Jarvis’s eyes grew enormous.

Aidan pointed to the TV. “What’d the news say?”

“Oh. They said the spaceship appeared over Washington without communicating to the people below. There are no signs of massive explosions or blowing the crap out of the Capitol, like in a disaster movie. But the spaceship is hovering over everything, and all electronics have fizzled out. None of them work: no cell phones, no satellite communication, no computers, like, nothing but a few people calling from old-school landlines.”

“Landlines?” Aidan scrunched his brow.

“Phones. Don’t you ever watch old movies?”

As if on cue, Aidan’s phone rang with the “Imperial March” from Star Wars as his ringtone.

“Well, that’s fitting,” Jarvis muttered as Aidan grabbed his phone.

“Yes!” Aidan yelled as he looked down at Ellie’s smiling face. “She always knows what to do. Always.” He held up the phone and showed Ellie’s picture to Jarvis.

“Answer!” Jarvis ordered him.

Aidan tapped the screen and held the phone to his ear. “Ellie! What the fuck? Have you seen?”

Her calm voice on the other end immediately took Aidan’s blood pressure down several points. “Yes, I saw. I can’t imagine many who haven’t. I need you to listen to me and get control of yourself.”

Aidan took a deep breath. “I’m in control.” Shit, his voice quivered.

“You sound about ready for a major panic attack. Don’t lie. Is someone with you, in case you freak?”

Aidan nodded his answer.

“She can’t see you,” Jarvis said aloud.

“Right.” Ellie chimed in from the phone. “Aidan, who’s with you? Can he help?”

“Oh, yeah. Jarvis. You know, my roommate.”

“Let me speak with him.”

“You already are. I put you on speaker.”

“Jarvis, you can hear me?”

“Yep. Shoot.” Jarvis grabbed the phone from Aidan’s shaking hand before he dropped it.

“You two need to haul ass downstairs, fast. Don’t take the elevator because electrical systems are starting to fail like in Washington. Did you see the news? I assume the same will happen in Chicago and anywhere else these assholes go.”

“Yes, we know.” Jarvis answered again. Aidan decided to stay quiet and concentrate on remembering to breathe.

“So,” Ellie continued, “hit the stairs like you’re running a race, and I’ll pick you up in the alley. The alley out back, near the kitchen. Guys, roads are packed. People are fleeing. We have like two seconds to get out of downtown before this place goes to shit.”

“Gotcha.” Jarvis hung up and handed Aidan his phone. “Follow me.”

Jarvis opened the door and hurried into the hallway, where they saw a group of people waiting for the elevator. Aidan started to move, but Jarvis grabbed his arm.

“Don’t forget your bag.” Jarvis pointed to Aidan’s backpack, sitting inside their doorway.

“Yeah, yeah.” Aidan slung the backpack over both his arms and adjusted the straps to fit on his back as Jarvis hurried down the hall.

“Where are we going?” Aidan asked Jarvis because they moved away from the growing throng at the elevator.

“You want to be in the elevator when all the power goes out?” Jarvis asked him as he pulled on his arm to hurry Aidan along. “Did you hear a thing Ellie said?”

“I listened but can’t process very well. But no, I don’t fancy getting stuck in an elevator though.”

A few other students pushed past them in the opposite direction, but one looked at them for a second, then spun to follow after they passed him.

Jarvis slammed open the emergency staircase door and rushed into the stairwell, Aidan following close behind. Far below, they heard an emergency alarm sounding because someone had opened the exterior fire exit. Others ran down the stairs with them, a group of jocks pushing past as they leapt two stairs at a time without concern for shoving into people.

“Fuckers,” Aidan muttered under his breath as he concentrated on going fast without falling. His backpack must weigh ten thousand pounds, and he already had started to sweat.

Jarvis, taller and speedier, stopped at every landing to make sure Aidan was following. He carried his larger bag in one hand and did not seem to exert any effort whatsoever to move fast. At each floor, additional students packed onto the landing, pushing bodies more and more tightly into the stairway. Aidan stuck to the edge to lessen the feeling of claustrophobia beginning to set in. The white wall’s brightness felt more open visually than getting stuck in the middle of a crowd of panicked people, even though he knew they could just as easily smash him into the drywall as much as a body.

On the third floor, with Aidan feeling the breeze from outside rushing into the building, a woman moved slower with her foot in a cast. With one hand, she gripped the stair railing as she hopped down one step at a time, while the other hand held tight to two crutches.

Jarvis hurried down to her. “You need help?”

“I’m good,” she answered. “Protect yourselves.”

Unconvinced, Jarvis stayed beside her to block people from blasting into her, so Aidan took the cue and remained two steps behind him to create more space and make sure no one fell into either one of them. A few people bumped into his backpack before swerving around him and then Jarvis. Jarvis took the crutches from her, handing one to Aidan. Aidan’s heart thundered in his chest with fear, wanting to get out of the building faster but knowing he, and Jarvis more so, could never live with themselves if they abandoned her.

The last two flights felt as if they took an hour to traverse, but their efforts paid off with people slowing and going around them with more care.

Aidan noticed his armpits sweating as if he’d run a marathon and hoped he had remembered to wear deodorant today. How weird, he thought, to worry about body odor when he needed to concern himself with trying to survive.

At the bottom on the first floor, Jarvis held the door open for the crutches woman as she and Aidan got to the bottom. They emptied onto a side street to find the sidewalks bustling with people and the roads full of honking cars because traffic moved at too slow a pace.

“Thanks.” Tears welled in her eyes.

“You got someplace to go?” Jarvis asked.

Before she could answer, a group of girls raced over. “Penny!” two of them shouted in unison. Another grabbed her arm to lead her away with the group.

“Wait!” Aidan shouted after them. “Don’t forget these.” He held up one crutch as he took the other from Jarvis and handed them to one of the other women.

“Oh, yeah!” Penny smiled wearily. “Thanks again.”

Two of the women pulled Penny along, one explaining as they walked away, “We tried getting in, but too many people were streaming out.”

Jarvis tugged Aidan’s arm. “She said the alley, remember?”

“Penny?”

“No. Ellie. Focus.”

“Right. Alley. Fast.” A drip of sweat trickled down his side from his armpit.

Aidan stayed close behind Jarvis as they went as fast as possible through the people toward the corner. As with the staircase, people bunched onto the sidewalks going in every direction, most seeming to follow some decorum of not shoving into people or trying to harm their fellow humans, though Aidan spotted a few who pushed into folks and shoved through the crowd. Aidan had expected chaos and found, to his surprise, a more respectful atmosphere, unlike movie versions of panic where everyone trampled each other in a mad dash to save themselves. A few selfish jerks cared for no one else, but the majority attempted to survive with a certain amount of dignity.

Jarvis and Aidan rounded the street corner, a car horn blaring so loud Aidan’s ears hurt. Fewer people rushed along the side street, Aidan assumed because these roads did not lead to paths out of the city. A couple of yards ahead Aidan could see their next turn, free of cars, yet darker and narrower.

Proving, as always, how one must always listen to Ellie, Jarvis and Aidan sped into the alley to find a row of parked cars but a lane otherwise free of traffic. Up ahead, Aidan breathed a sigh of relief to see the red brake lights on an old black SUV.

“There!” Aidan pointed to the two-door SUV and ran forward, taking his turn to tug Jarvis along. Aidan yanked open the passenger door and threw in his backpack before jumping into the vehicle. After an awkward shove with his left foot against the door frame and hanging onto a seat belt with his right hand, he landed face-first in the back seat with his limbs flailing everywhere. By the time he faced forward, Jarvis sat in the passenger seat with his bag in his lap.

The minute Jarvis slammed the door shut Ellie revved the engine. “Fasten your seat belts,” she said, as if she were a flight attendant preparing for takeoff.

Purchase

NineStar Press | Books2Read

Meet the Author

Damian Serbu is an author of gay horror/speculative fiction. After over twenty years of teaching history at the collegiate level, he now writes full time. He lives in the Chicagoland area with his husband and two dogs.

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Thursday, May 14, 2026

Discover Standard Tuning by Andi Tozier

Title: Standard Tuning

Author: Andi Tozier

Publisher:  NineStar Press

Release Date: 05/12/2026

Heat Level: 3 - Some Sex

Pairing: Male/Male

Length: 280

Genre: Historical, Genre/lit, historical, family-drama, bisexual, musician, supergroup, drug addiction, BDSM play, slow burn

Add to Goodreads


Description

It’s 1988 and solo act Bill Kason is invited to take part in a supergroup. Three generations of talent band together over three long weekends to record an album; talking shop, tweaking tunes, and touring their memories. Behind the music and the rumors that he saw Jesus in a Connecticut bathroom, Bill is barely holding himself together, but he is willing to make the effort for the sake of Martin Henry, one of the best-loved men in the music business and beyond. With Bill always somewhere between suicide and spiritual awakening, Martin is the only one who can make him take a good, hard look at himself, and not be completely repulsed. The question now: is Martin’s friendship and admiration enough to make the difference?

Excerpt

Standard Tuning
Andi Tozier © 2026
All Rights Reserved

May 1988

For the record, he said yes. Wasn’t a maybe; wasn’t a let me think about it. Martin asked, and Bill said yes. Ever since he’d been stamped with the Return to Sender labels of difficult, uncooperative, uncollaborative, and downright creative hell, not too many creative colleagues were calling. Not that he gave out his number all that often.

But when Martin asked if Bill was willing to lay down tunes with him and his closest friends, a bit of fun, nothing serious, Bill shoved a toothbrush in his back pocket, packed the rear of his Volkswagen van with some clothes and every relevant and a few irrelevant instruments atop that. And he drove through the Cali valley, where the business-class whores told fortunes and the palm-reading gypsies turned tricks.

Martin didn’t have a studio rented out and he didn’t own a house around town; he’d done the sensible British thing out of a P.G. Wodehouse plot and simply swapped enormous mansions across the pond.

Cutting up the canyon crawl in the impending lurch of traffic, sliding around horse rail fences that kept the cliffside at bay, circling, encircling Dante’s fury. Dust pressed into the tires, rocks rattling. Maybe manual transmission wasn’t the best choice.

Bill idled at the ostiaries of the monetary and materially inclined. Call systems and gates cordoned off the rest of the way, next to bushes and vines that clung to life strangled by temperature and technology.

He cranked the window down and waved his arm toward the buzzer box, but he realized a little later than he’d have liked to that he was going to have to unbuckle his seatbelt and lean halfway out the window just to make contact.

The prolonged dial tone could hold a note better than he could.

“Name and secret password please,” the mechanical mouth spoke in the tones of Martin.

“Aw heck, I made it this far,” Bill moaned at the callbox’s gap-toothed speaker.

The machine cackled through crackling static. “Come on in, Bill.”

The new electronic hum of the gates was too high to catch, and the hinges creaked like screws breaking loose as they juddered open. Bill’s slow push on the gas pedal wasn’t just van versus incline; he wanted a second look at the wrought iron artistry.

Bill had a thing for gates. Their construction, their intention, their being. This one had sweeping calligraphy strokes of iron, hidden flowers in the folds, a little barbed wire edge to it. Made you kind of blue and he didn’t know why.

Halfway up the private road and he was already feeling regret like the blazing desert sun. He had to segment it out into a million little intolerable pieces, starting with the anxiety of figuring out where to park.

With cars already in designated parking areas, he didn’t want to be the one to box anyone in, but he also wanted to have the easiest escape plan, in case the whole thing was strange, or just not his version of strange.

The ever-helpful parking attendant was James, who wasn’t a parking attendant at all, but a rock star in his own right. Piano-heavy starship stuff, trills and electronic tones that normally couldn’t exist outside a studio, but James had a mimic’s knack for making those sounds appear on his glitzy, celestial tours.

He guided Bill’s van in like a flight crewmember partway through an Aldous Huxley trip. Once he was safely between a Jaguar and a Porsche, Bill left the comfortable cave of his van and, with a hesitant breath in, entered back into reality.

James leaned on the side of the van, near the driver’s side door. Considering the shape the vehicle was in, he probably assumed Bill was okay with that kind of contact when really any play for personal space had Bill on the offensive.

James was the cast-off of a Bob Ross hairstylist with the bright disposition of the first breath of spring. But somehow the two of them just could never find the right key to play in together, and it always felt a little off. Uncomfortable pleasantries. But maybe James never caught that.

“Bill, I’m so glad you could make it.” He peered down, aiming for eye contact which Bill was reluctant to match.

James had a voice like a steel drum, whose Englishness was accentuated by his grammatical substitutions of me for my. “You can leave your stuff. We’ll send someone round to nick it.”

“Thanks,” Bill mumbled.

So he wasn’t completely armorless, he stuffed a Marine Band harmonica into his front pocket without a glance as to the key and slung his acoustic over his shoulder, holding it by the neck in a fireman carry.

The front entrance was hidden under an archway, rounded at the top like a hoop skirt, the same wrought iron designs in the glass. There was an old cemetery grounds feel to it. Just as he was about to study it, really tap in and find out what it was all about, what it meant to him, the doors opened and Martin was on the other side.

Bill exhaled sharply, like a broadhead arrow sliced through the air and wedged in his lungs. Martin was radiant; he was made of pure stardust. He operated on different levels but felt so completely you.

Anyone who met him felt without question they’d known him forever and surprised themselves even further when he seemed to seamlessly fit in as a family member. Or…or something else.

“Bill, yes, excellent, wonderful.” Martin clapped him on the shoulder and Bill watched the contact happen more than felt it. “James get you to the right spot? Had to send him out there after Fisher made it to the neighbors by accident. They wouldn’t let him go without three tunes for a singsong.”

This was the face teenyboppers fainted over, that drove them wild—well, this and a few of his other bandmates. Talent that changed the landscape, that made everyone else work to outdo them and fail. An unstoppable force that paused itself, then a few over-publicized tragedies led to the remaining crew seeking solo work.

Martin’s hair was like the mane on a stallion, his eyes bright and true. To Bill, who was once described by a journalist as having the face of a bitter eagle and the personality of unwashed gym socks, it was borderline unfair to have such good-looking, kind friends.

“Come in, come in, come in.” Martin ushered Bill inside. He’d already missed his cue to follow when James had entered, and Martin had probably sensed correctly that Bill was fine with staying detached from the happenings forever.

Martin’s English dialect came straight out of the muck and grime, lifted out just as he was through a fog of disorder. Bill felt the need to say something to block the staccato steps of his boots and Martin’s sneakers across the tile floor.

“Nice curtains,” he tried without a glance for them or making the effort to check that they existed.

“Yeah, I got them in India from this little old lady that weren’t any taller than my knee. Hand dyed and washed in big rocky pits. Thought they’d be a great welcome home gift to Edmund once we trade our houses back. But you don’t want to hear about all that. Now.” Martin stepped out in front of Bill and stretched his hands out on Bill’s face. “Now. Roger’s here, Fisher’s here, you’re here, James is here. Who are we missing? Me? I am here; I am everywhere. Bits of me scuttling about. Do make yourself at home. I’ll come grab you if you’re missing anything. I trust you’ll do the same for me. And if you need anyone to harmonize with…” He sang a brief scale on, “I’m your man.” Then he said, “Cheers,” and took off in some impossible direction in the house.

Bill ran his hand over where Martin had held his face. If he wasn’t careful, acts of simple human affection were liable to disintegrate him.

He took stock of the place. It was hard to see the old-world charm of the estate when masked by all the recording equipment. A drum set stuffed into an alcove. Microphones cabled over stands; creeping vines up walls. Card towers of separately sized speakers.

Bill bit down a smirk as he thought about his own studio, wired to the max where the recorded sound captured all over the damn place and how those he invited over always did that single take recoil, where they reviewed what they had said and what they were going to say. Not that he reviewed their remarks, not that he reviewed them every night.

He zeroed in on a collection of guitars; electric and acoustics on stands with a few spare stands beside them.

Abandoning his armor for want of completing the set, Bill dropped his guitar next to a Rickenbacker and had a bit of insight as to whose guitars were whose. It was like examining sneakers in a closet; you knew the style and the wear. He caught a glimpse of the roadies known as household help carrying his belongings up a set of stairs ending surely in whatever was to be his room. So long as it had a bed, Bill could manage. And even then, he’d done without when he had to.

He wandered into the kitchen where Ty Fisher was cracking a bottle of beer open with the help of the edge of the countertop.

Fisher had a Dick Cavett sort of smallness to him. He was still sporting some Sissy Spacek hairstyle, hair that confused men in public when they caught Fisher at his most feminine angles. The times Fisher sported a beard a few shades darker from his hair only served to further confuse people. He would have been some sideshow Venus on the half shell.

Bill liked him. There wasn’t a person in the house he didn’t like—hell, you couldn’t not like James—but Fisher had a gentle ‘ribbons in a schoolgirl’s hair’ sorta kindness with a rocker’s edge. Sweet, funny, with strong opinions on art, music, life’s poetry, as all of them did.

Still young, still striving. Aiming for the purest rock and roll he and his redneck crew could create. While devilishly handsome under stadium lights, up close a casual observer might catch that he had a history of hitting some substance or some man of no substance hitting him.

“Hey, Bill.” Fisher gave him a wide beacon of a smile. “I saw you last…last year August.”

Bill screwed up his face in thought. “What for?”

“We were on tour together.”

“Oh right.” Bill considered it a bit longer. “How’d we do?”

Fisher took a long sip. “Good, very good, some just okay, and then one shit show which I won’t rehash for both our sakes. I mean, really, I couldn’t even tell you what went wrong, but I know they were happiest when we left.”

Purchase

NineStar Press | Books2Read

Meet the Author

Andi Tozier grew up in Florida and found their way to the Midwest. They hold an MFA in Fiction Writing from Columbia College Chicago and have credits in anthologies and small publications. Their love of music and writing is vast and varied, and they’re happy to share this work with NineStar Press
 and all their readers. 

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Wednesday, May 6, 2026

Tour Stop & Giveaway: Andrew Grey's To Serve



Title: To Protect
Series: Carlisle K-9 Book 2
Author: Andrew Grey
Genre: M/M Contemporary Romance/Military
Release Date: May 5, 2026
Edition/Formats Available In: eBook & Print
Blurb/Synopsis:

Marty Waters is a computer support specialist and history buff whose main hobby is working at the local historical society. When a boy goes missing, Marty offers his tech skills to aid the police in finding him.
 
Enter Officer Hottie and his K-9 partner, Dexter. Grant Webster works as a K-9 officer with the Carlisle PD, and he's been assigned to the recent kidnapping case. He could do without the assistance of the computer geek who insists on helping, though, no matter how cute he is.
 
It turns out, Marty's historical knowledge and research skills are more useful than Grant expected, and together they're able to recognize the kidnapper's pattern, but the long hours bring an intense attraction neither of them has ever experienced. Is the interest real or just a reaction to the excitement and danger? As more children are taken, they will have to set aside their attraction and rely on each other, and Dexter, to find the kids in time.

Monday, April 27, 2026

New Release Spotlight Tour Stop/Giveaway: Andrew Grey's Shelter Of His Heart



Title: Shelter of his Heart
Author: Andrew Grey
Genre: M/M Contemporary Romance/Military
Release Date: April 21, 2026
Edition/Formats Available In: eBook & Print

Blurb/Synopsis:
College professor Jameson Kline has a good life, if a little quiet and maybe lonely. But all that changes when he encounters his high school crush, Todd, and Todd's young son, in the woods at the back of the local park. Not knowing what else to do, he takes them home and gives them dinner and a place to rest for a while.

Todd Morris is ashamed of his current situation, but unsure of how to come back from losing nearly everything, especially a home and safety for his son, Kenny. With Jameson’s help, Todd begins to piece their lives back together one step at a time. But being without a steady home has left a mark that’s hard to overcome, including not being able to rely on others for anything.

As Jameson helps Todd get his feet under him again one step at a time, Todd's heart opens to Jameson’s kindness and old feelings find new life. But Todd and Kenny’s old life refuses to go quietly, putting Kenny in danger. As they work together to rebuild and keep Kenny safe, Todd and Jameson’s simmering attraction grows more intense and possibilities open for both of them, if they can hold the threat at bay.

Thursday, March 12, 2026

New Release Alert: A Wolf-Changing Incident by Karenna Colcroft

 


I am so thrilled to showcase Karenna's newest book, A Wolf-Changing Incident, with you today. 

Paranormal/Fantasy MM Shifter Romance
Release Date: March 12th, 2026
Available on Kindle Unlimited as well.
Buy at Amazon

When werewolf Yves Diamond happens on a multi-vehicle crash on a Manitoba highway, he ignores the danger and rescues Will Mandel from a burning car. The moment he sets eyes and hands on Will, Yves knows the man belongs in his life. If Will survives his injuries.

Waking days later in a hospital, Will is confused by the presence of a man the nurses believe is his relative. But something in him recognizes that Yves is meant to be in his life. As Will’s recovery continues and Yves visits him frequently, the connection between the two grows into something neither can ignore–and neither dares to admit.

Werewolf law prohibits telling humans that werewolves exist–and once Yves’s Alpha learns about the visits with Will, he forbids Yves any further contact with the human. Having Will has changed Yves’s life for the better, but their bond might be severed before it can fully form.

This story includes description of a vehicle accident scene; fears of losing mobility that border on ableism; and references to PTSD. The story is set in the Real Werewolves Don't Eat Meat universe but is not part of that series.

Story snippet:
My heart sank, and a tear trickled out of my eye as a deep black grief covered every thought like ash. I might never be ready. I’d wanted to be a doctor my entire life, since before I could clearly speak the word. I’d done everything I needed to do, studied my ass off from primary on up, gotten through university and medical school. This position at the health center in Norway House was to have been the start of my life as Dr. Will Mandel. And the fucking accident had taken everything away from me.
I tried to scream, but all that came out was a hoarse croak that sent more spikes through my throat. The pain infuriated me, setting the grief-ash ablaze with heated rage, and I pounded the mattress with my fists.
“Will!” Eyes wide, Mom got up and tried to hold my hands down. “Stop. You’re going to hurt yourself.”
“Will.” Yves’s calm, even voice cut through the screeching rant in my mind. “You’re angry. Of course you are. But your mother’s right. Breathe. Be angry, but breathe.”
“Fuck you,” I muttered, not caring about my throat. Or about whether I would piss him off.
To my astonishment, he laughed. “Watch your language in front of your mother.”
I rolled my eyes, but his voice and his laughter helped cool my anger. I was still furious. My life’s dream was going down the drain, and I didn’t know if I would ever get it back. My entire body hurt in ways I’d never imagined. I couldn’t speak or make a sound without my throat aching, though at least that was better than the day before.
But I was alive. Thanks to Yves Diamond, whoever he was and whatever had possessed him to pull me out of my car, I was alive. Even if I never managed to work as a doctor, I would have a life, and I couldn’t be too angry about that.
For the rest of their visit, I drifted in and out of an uneasy sleep. After the third time I woke up, a nurse came in and not so politely invited Mom and Yves to leave. Before they did, Yves bent over the bed. “I’ll come back. Every day, if you’d like. Yes?”
“Yes.” The word was barely a breath.
He heard, though. “Good. See you tomorrow.” With a slight smile, he walked away.

About the Author:

Karenna Colcroft is a mother, wife, and former teacher who began writing romance in 2006 and took a hiatus beginning in 2016. In 2022, Karenna returned from beyond the figurative grave with updates of her previous books and new books set in her paranormal romance universe. In Karenna's world, love is love regardless of who or how many, and happy endings tend to prevail.

Karenna lives in eastern Massachusetts with her husband and two and a half cats. (Half in terms of the amount of time the cat spends with her, not the cat itself.) She is a mother of two plus three "bonus" kids and grandmother of four.

Amazon Author Page

Website


Tuesday, March 10, 2026

Book Spotlight/Giveaway: Divine Judgment by Mell Eight

Title:  Divine Judgment

Author: Mell Eight

Publisher:  NineStar Press

Release Date: 03/10/2026

Heat Level: 2 - Fade to Black Sex

Pairing: Male/Male

Length: 43908

Genre: Romantasy, MM Romance, nonexplicit, gods, priests, royalty, prisoners, punishment, rewards, disability, magic/magic-users

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Description

Ves’s life has always been a troubled one. An orphan growing up on the streets and imprisoned for a crime he didn’t commit, Ves knows how bad things can be. When he’s chosen to go before the God of Judgment to be judged for his crimes, Ves knows the result of that will either be insanity or death. Except, Judgment doesn’t go as anyone expected when, instead, the God chooses Ves to be his head priest. 

Settling into his new life as priest to a God is strange, but being around Rais, the God of Judgment, is no chore. Spending time together as Ves learns what it means to be a Priest of Judgment is wonderful, until people from Ves’s past realize where he is. Ves must decide whether he wants the past he didn’t realize he had lost, or the future he was just starting to build with Rais. Presuming the other powers at play allow him to live long enough to make that decision.

Excerpt

Divine Judgment
Mell Eight © 2026
All Rights Reserved

One

Ves’s side of the room was small with no windows and a single chair in the center of the stained wood floor. The walls had been white originally but were now a murky shade of brownish gray. The guard behind him grunted pointedly, so Ves made his slow way to the chair. He gratefully sat down and placed his crutch on the floor next to him before looking across his portion of the room to the other side. A high wall separated his dingy room from the court judge in his comfortably padded chair behind a carved wooden desk. The upper half of the wall was open like a long window and high enough anyone from Ves’s side would require a few extra seconds to climb, which was more than enough time for the guard standing behind Ves to stop them. Not that Ves could climb like that, of course, but Ves doubted the judge or the guard cared.

The judge had a steaming mug of tea at one hand, a folio in front of him, and a fancy quill in a stand to his right. The walls in his half of the room were painted a cheery yellow, which augmented the afternoon light streaming in from the glass-paned window.

“You have been recommended for early release,” the judge said. He didn’t look up from the folio, nor otherwise acknowledge Ves was in the room. “Based on your criminal history and your behavior while incarcerated, the court is willing to consider this sentence reduction.”

Ves swallowed down his growing hope, knowing better than to say anything or let any budding happiness show on his face in any way that could be seen by the guards or the judge. In this world of prison bars and shackles, hiding emotion was much safer. Besides, Ves had always been skilled at discerning the truth hidden behind the words. In this case, the truth was the prison was overcrowded and funding was limited. Thanks to his injury, Ves wasn’t likely to repeat the crimes for which he had been convicted, and providing medical care and accommodations for him was expensive. Tossing him out on the street and hoping for the best was far more economical for the courts than keeping him for the full term of his sentence.

“However, there are requirements that must be fulfilled prior to certifying your release,” the judge continued. “Per our laws enshrined in the annals of the divine accolades, first, you must go before the God of Judgment and beg for absolution of your crime. Should the God grant mercy, you will be released from prison. Second, should you be granted release, you will be provided housing for one week, after which you must obtain lawful employment. You must be gainfully employed for the remaining time left on your sentence. A gap of longer than a week is grounds for reincarceration. Third, you will be assigned a liaison officer with whom you must meet weekly. This officer will assess your activities and provide reports to the court regarding whether you should return to prison. Lastly, commission of any crime is grounds for immediate cancellation of your early release.”

The court judge picked up the fancy quill, dipped it in ink, and signed something at the bottom of one of the papers in the folio. He dusted the ink with sand before closing the folio and passing it to someone standing by the door, likely a secretary. Once that was done, he looked at the guard.

“Next case. I would like to have this chore completed in time to be home for afternoon tea.” The judge still hadn’t looked at Ves, more interested in the contents of his cooling teacup as Ves picked up his crutch and struggled to his feet.

Ves followed the guard out the door and back into the prison, trying not to let hope take root in his chest. He had no idea what obtaining a divine Judgment required, but felt safe assuming he didn’t have enough money to bribe the priests in the temple of the God of Judgment to agree to his release. Even if he did manage to get through Judgment, getting a job with his injury was going to be next to impossible. Ves didn’t remember the stabbing or know why he had been targeted by another inmate, just that when he woke in the prison’s medical wing, he had lost the use of his right leg as a result. The leg was still attached, but he could only bend his knee, feel his foot, or wiggle his toes about 10 percent of the time. The other 90 percent, his right foot hung like a deadweight. There was no way to know whether the stabbing had been the cause or whether the incompetent medical care Ves received afterward was the problem, but he was restricted to the speed of his crutch and only had one free hand to carry things while he was upright. Most ex-convicts found work at the docks unloading ships. Ves wouldn’t be able to do that, which limited his options severely. Regardless, even a few days of freedom would be a nice vacation from the hell that was prison.

“Do you know when I’ll be able to request absolution from the God of Judgment?” Ves asked the guard, who grunted in response.

“Today’s Moonsadai. Convict absolution is always the morning of Raisadai, so in two days. Don’t be in a rush to meet this God though.” The guard smirked at Ves. “If you’re lucky, you’ll come back here more injured than you left. If you’re not lucky, you’ll be dead.” Still smirking, the guard stopped at the first set of doors leading into Ves’s shared cell. He pulled a lever, and the first barred door slid aside. Ves stepped through the doorway and the first door slid closed, locking him into the two-by-two-foot space. The guard pulled the lever again, and the second door slid to the side, revealing the nine-by-nine-foot square cell he shared with three other inmates.

The man Ves only knew as Fang grinned at Ves as the second door closed behind him. Both of Fang’s pointed incisors, sharpened prior to his arrest for ripping out chunks of people with his teeth, were prominent in his mouth, so the grin was equally a threat and a welcome.

“Well, you getting out of here?” Fang asked, watching from where he was sitting on his bottom bunk as Ves slowly made his way to the other bunk bed. Ves got the bottom of his bed thanks to necessity, since he couldn’t climb. Fang liked Ves for some reason, so it was thanks to his influence over their other two cellmates that Ves hadn’t been challenged for the better bed.

“I get to have a hearing with the God of Judgment in two days. I’m not sure that means I’m getting out of here though.”

“If you only get to see one of the priests, you’ll be back here in an hour,” Omnit called from where he was flopped out on the bed above Ves.

Fang nodded and ran his hand over his mouth. “Maybe. If you actually get to go into the temple to get a Judgment directly from the God, though, I’ll bet you’ll be freed. You’re one of the noble mistakes, right? I’ve heard the God of Judgment doesn’t care about rank or money, just whether you actually committed the crime.”

“And I’ve heard people who go see the God come back missing limbs or go straight to the crazy house ’cause their heads got messed up instead,” Omnit added. “They spend the rest of their days laughing at blank walls or screaming at the air. Better to see a corrupt priest instead.”

Ves sighed and lay back on the thin mattress, staring up at the straps holding Omnit’s mattress in place. One of the noble mistakes. In the prison system they were so common they had a name, and people who fell into that category tended to receive a bit more leeway from the other inmates. They weren’t usually randomly stabbed like Ves. The guards didn’t care, but Fang had defended Ves on multiple occasions because of it. When nobles broke the law and got caught, that mistake was rectified with money put in the right hands and a scapegoat going to prison instead. Ves hadn’t even had a trial but was now seven years into a fifteen-year sentence, convicted of two attempted rapes, the last one resulting in manslaughter of the victim. He would be turning twenty-one years old in two days, Ves realized as his gloomy thoughts identified something else depressing to focus on. When people reached the age of majority, they visited the temple of the God of Life to pray for guidance as they stepped into adulthood. Hopefully visiting the God of Judgment, instead, wouldn’t be yet another black mark against him.

“It’s not like I have a choice,” Ves finally responded. “The court judge signed some paperwork, so I’ll be dragged to the temple whether I like it or not.”

Fang let out a barking laugh. “That’s the world of the Gods, I guess. All we can do is hope they don’t make us suffer too damned much.”

Before Ves could think of a response, the afternoon klaxon went off, echoing through the prison as it did twice every day—first thing in the morning and now. Ves’s ears continued to ring for a few seconds after the klaxon stopped. By the time he could hear again, he could also hear the squeaky wheel from the meal cart in the hallway. A moment later a slot opened above the small table in the corner, bolted to the wall so they couldn’t move it, and someone pushed four trays filled with their dinner onto it. Omnit scrambled down from his bed and returned holding two trays, one of which he passed to Ves. Fang grabbed a tray, and the fourth man in their cell climbed down from his bunk over Fang to get his as well. The man never spoke, ever, so Ves didn’t know his name, but he also never caused problems, so he wasn’t the worst roommate Ves had endured in his seven years here.

Dinner was boiled chicken, boiled potatoes, and boiled beans, each portioned exactly so every tray had the same amount of bland, lifeless grub. At first, Ves had been excited about the prospect of regular meals, since that wasn’t something he had enjoyed before his incarceration, but that minimal silver lining had faded away fast. He ate the food, tasting nothing the entire time, and let Omnit return the empty tray to the table next to the slot for the workers to remove later. With nothing else to anticipate before the morning klaxon announcing breakfast, Ves curled up on his bed and pulled his thin blanket over his shoulders. Sleeping wouldn’t end his misery or allay his worries about the impending temple visit, but at least he could turn off his brain for a few hours. After seven years of long practice, Ves forced himself to sleep, knowing everything would still be waiting for him to dwell on in the morning.

Purchase

NineStar Press | Books2Read

Meet the Author

When Mell Eight was in high school, she discovered dragons. Beautiful, wondrous creatures that took her on epic adventures both to faraway lands and on journeys of the heart. Mell wanted to create dragons of her own, so she put pen to paper. Mell Eight is now known for her own soaring dragons, as well as for other wonderful characters dancing across the pages of her books. While she mostly writes paranormal or fantasy stories, she has been seen exploring the real world once or twice.

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Friday, March 6, 2026

Discover Impulse Caught by Emily Carrington and a Giveaway

Title: Impulse Caught

Author: Emily Carrington

Publisher: Changeling Press

Cover Art: Angela Knight

Genres: Contemporary, Mystery /Suspense /Intrigue, New Releases, Romance

Themes: 2nd Chance Romance, LGBTQ+ Gay, Multicultural & Interracial

Series: Marisburg Chronicles (#9)

Multiverse: Sticks & Stones (#3)

Book Length: Novella

Page Count: 76

Synopsis

Riku takes charge in bed, but will he have any control over the day-to-day decisions of a marriage?

Money and status differences challenge Riku and Theo to find a middle ground. Their passion is white-hot, but their ideas of living comfortably are at odds. As their wedding nears, driven forward by Theo’s parents’ sense of guilt, Riku feels the old urge to run.

Riku refuses to give into this impulse at first, but as the comparison between his emotional scars and the mountains of Theo’s familial expectations grow, Riku fears running will be the only less-than-honorable course left to him.

Theo isn’t blind to Riku’s struggles but he doesn’t understand what’s wrong. Each time he reaches out, Riku reaches back, yet they never quite connect. Will their need for each other overcome their differences, or will their passion be subsumed by a wave of conflicting desires?

Excerpt

Impulse Caught (Marisburg Chronicles 9)
Emily Carrington
All rights reserved.
Copyright ©2026 Emily Carrington

It was the day after the children had left for the summer. There would be ESY, of course, extended school year, but Riku hadn’t been asked to participate. He’d only been a teacher at the Colton school for the deaf since January, so it made sense he wouldn’t be first pick for ESY. He would have normally chewed over that until he was ill, but since Theo had gone back to work in February, they were living relatively comfortably. Riku’s student loans still put a squeeze on him, but he could manage without panicking.

He was sorting through papers posted on the walls. Most of them had gone home with their makers yesterday, but there were a few that hadn’t been collected. These he grouped into a folder he marked “leftover assignments” and stored for early September.

He glanced toward where Theo was wiping down desks, and Riku had to catch his breath. His fiancé was dressed in casual clothes, but he looked like a Greek statue come to life. Attired in a green T-shirt and jeans shorts, he looked younger than he was because of the cutoffs, but not like jailbait. He was thirty-two, having gained another year in mid-April. Unfortunately, Riku had also aged a year, so they were still a decade apart.

The brush of Theo’s medium brown hair on his green-clad shoulders made Riku think of a book he’d read in high school. It had been about a man who could sing magic into the world. His hair had been red as his Irish heritage, but the physical differences didn’t matter. Theo could definitely have sung magic into Riku’s heart, or anywhere else he chose. His broad shoulders stretched the T-shirt over his pectorals and his shorts showed off his long, muscular legs.

If they weren’t at school, Riku would have suggested they quit working and go goof off instead. Unfortunately, they weren’t in their rented room in Marisburg.

Turning his attention back to his chosen task, he went to the bookshelf and started organizing the books. Ninety percent of the books were in print, but the remaining ones were in print and braille, for his students who, like Theo, had Usher Syndrome or other hearing/vision challenges. He wasn’t the braille teacher, could barely feel the dots under his fingers, truth be told. Still, he liked the idea of providing all kinds of different access to literature. Probably that was part of what made him an effective English teacher.

With his back to Theo as he organized the books, he reflected that today most likely wouldn’t see the two of them making love.

Half a year ago, Theo’s parents, courtesy of his father’s quick tongue, had alienated themselves from their son. Mr. Billings had told Theo that if he could prove himself self-sufficient for six months, he would be welcomed back into the familial fold. Theo’s father had apologized, all but falling over his words in an attempt to retreat from the ultimatum but Theo had taken up the challenge.

Now it was the end of that six months. Theo hadn’t been out of communication with his parents, but certain topics, like his relationship with Riku, had been off-limits. As had his access to the family fortunes.

Theo had been, for the past six months, surviving on his own brilliant mind and on his ability to work from anywhere. Today, though, Theo would be reopening full communication with his parents.

Riku wasn’t sure if he should be dreading that time as much as he was.

It wasn’t that Theo hadn’t been talking to his parents. He just hadn’t accepted any monetary handouts from them, and he’d refused to discuss his relationship with Riku. It was easy to trust him, to believe he had suspended those ties temporarily. Theo was prideful and wouldn’t bend. Besides, the two of them had engaged in actual arguments about money, like any other couple.

Riku found himself smiling. Those fights had always ended in makeup sex, almost like they were a new kind of foreplay. He hadn’t always won the arguments, like the one they’d had about moving out of his ex’s house and into a rented room.

To save on money, he’d wanted to stay “just a little longer” despite the fact that they’d been sleeping on an air mattress in his ex’s living room. The word “uncomfortable” didn’t begin to define that situation but it had felt safe because Riku had been able to pay bills without worrying where he would rest at night.

Theo had ultimately been the hero of that fight because he’d shown Riku how selfish he was being. His lover had managed it without making Riku feel bad, which was almost a miracle.

So, why was he so tangled up about bringing the Billings parents back into the picture? They’d apologized for calling him Theo’s Asian fetish, which was apparently the worst offense in their eyes. Shouldn’t he forgive them?

No, he thought. There’s an essential disconnect between how I view the world and how they do. We can’t resolve that.

Hands closed on his shoulders, and he realized he’d been standing still instead of cleaning. He relaxed into the familiar touch of Theo’s skilled fingers as Theo began massaging his shoulders and that spot where he carried ninety percent of his tension, which was at the base of his skull. He must have been unmoving for quite a while because Theo, partially deaf and visually impaired as well, sometimes missed things that happened around him. He’d noticed today, though.

Riku turned and Theo dropped one hand into Riku’s palm. He signed, “What’s wrong?”

“I’m borrowing trouble,” he said and signed. He caught the light playing over Theo’s hair and reached up to touch a lock that had fallen in front of Theo’s eyes. “You’re gorgeous, you know that?”

“Thank you.” He laughed. “I do know, but I also am aware that you’re avoiding talking about whatever’s bothering you. What’s wrong?”

Riku shook his head, remembered Theo might not be able to see that, and answered, “I don’t want to talk about it here.”

“Maybe we should go home, and we should resume this cleaning tomorrow?”

He didn’t want to go back to the rented room and face Theo’s parents. “I’d better finish up here or it’s going to drag on all summer.”

“By yourself?”

“You can go back if you want,” Riku offered.

“Why don’t I stay with you, keep you out of your head?”

Riku hugged him, feeling the warmth of Theo’s skin on his forehead as he leaned against him. “I love you. Thank you for understanding how much I need you to be with me right now.”

Theo kissed him, angling his head so their noses didn’t bump. “I love you.” He smacked Riku’s hip lightly. “Now. Let’s get cleaning. I don’t just love you.” He signed into Riku’s hand. “I crave your touch.”

“And my mouth, I hope,” Riku signed back. “I’ve wanted to taste you for days.”

Purchase at Changeling Press

Meet the Author

Emily Carrington is a multipublished author of male/male and transgender women’s speculative fiction. Seeking a world made of equality, she created SearchLight to live out her dreams. But even SearchLight has its problems, and Emily is looking forward to working all of these out with a host of characters from dragons and genies to psychic vampires. And in the contemporary world she’s named “Sticks & Stones,” Emily has vowed to create small towns where prejudice is challenged by a passionate quest for equality. Find her on Facebook at Shapeshifter Central or on her website.

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Friday, February 6, 2026

Book Spotlight Tour Stop/Giveaway: Impulse Control by Emily Carrington

Title: Impulse Control

Author: Emily Carrington

Publisher: Changeling Press

Cover Art: Angela Knight

Genres: Contemporary, Mystery /Suspense /Intrigue, New Releases, Romance

Themes: 2nd Chance Romance, LGBTQ+ Gay, Multicultural & Interracial

Series: Marisburg Chronicles (#8)

Multiverse: Sticks & Stones (#3)

Book Length: Novella

Page Count: 77

Synopsis

Spontaneity can be both exciting and terrifying for everyone involved.

When Riku ran from the trouble caused by his lover’s family, he wasn’t quite sure what he was running to. He left his beloved behind, abandoning his heart’s desire in the name of escape. Now, in a job he loves but missing that critical piece of his soul, he mourns, longing for the companionship as much as the sexual tension.

Theo has given chase, all the way across the country. He wants closure if nothing else, but that would be a terrible second choice. What he longs for is to have Riku back in his life and in his bed.

Now, with all the time and former distance between them, can Riku and Theo move past the merely physical cravings of “I missed you” to a confession of their true feelings?

Excerpt

Impulse Control (Marisburg Chronicles 8)
Emily Carrington
All rights reserved.
Copyright ©2026 Emily Carrington

HotSpot Universal Media had taken off in the late nineties and seemed to grow exponentially every year. Theo’s parents’ company wasn’t exactly the only universal design organization that worked with people of all different abilities, but it had been one of the first to open its doors and actually make a profit.

Every time Theo had to recite that bit of historical dogma, he felt both proud and like he was rubbing his competitors’ noses in shit. He was so glad to have a job when many people with visual impairment and hearing loss couldn’t find work, but he was also profoundly aware that HUM traded as much in bad press for others as it did in good reviews.

He leaned back in the seat of the Audi and closed his eyes, effectively shutting out the world. He wore headphones that the driver could talk through to get his attention if need be, but mostly the noise cancelling was to soothe his over-stressed brain. He’d just spent four days at a conference touting the importance of the universal design company, using the catch phrase his parents’ marketing team had come up with three or four years ago: Charity begins at HUM.

He was suddenly distracted by a wet nose on his ankle. He tended to wear low-riding socks when he wasn’t in public and today was no exception. His service dog was either just shifting or she was asking for pets. He reached down without opening his eyes and found her head. He rubbed her stand-up ears affectionately. She shifted a little closer and lifted her head, giving him access to the spot under her chin. She liked to be scratched there.

Grinning, breathing out a good chunk of stress, and feeling grateful for Capitaine’s monitoring of his mood, Theo murmured, “Good girl.”

“Did you say something, sir?” Carlton asked through his headphones.

“Nope.” He felt his grin stretch. “Capitaine just needed some attention.”

“Very good, sir.”

He couldn’t break Carlton of the habit of calling him “sir.” Probably that was because the man was former military. Theo supposed it was better than not getting any respect, but the stiff interactions he had with the family’s staff made him extraordinarily self-conscious. He much preferred the occasionally awkward discussions he had with the businesspeople he worked with. Often, their responses were confused, as they were unsure how to talk to someone who was mostly deaf and losing more vision weekly, or so it seemed.

His phone rang, buzzing against his leg and sounding in his ears. He pressed a button and said, “Hello, this is Theodore Billings.” He didn’t recognize the number, but that wasn’t unusual. He got lots of random calls from folks trying to get him to fund their project or business.

“Sir, it’s Omar Jeffries. I’m sorry I’m calling from a strange number, but my cell is dead and I forgot my charger in the hotel.”

The private investigator sounded excited, or at least not as discouraged as he had during the last three conversations over the last two months. Theo sat up a little straighter and, after giving Capitaine one more pat, turned all his attention to finding out what Omar knew. “Good news?” he asked, trying to make his voice casual. He failed as a frisson of excitement bubbled up.

“I’m in Pennsyltucky and --”

Theo frowned and before he could stop himself, he asked, “Do you mean Pennsylvania?” He didn’t like unfriendly names for things. He tended to think there was too much division in the country at large.

Omar took a breath. “Yes, sir. Sorry. I’m in a rural part of the state and even if this little town is a hotbed of culture, it’s surrounded by farmland and…”

Theo heard him take another breath. Whatever he had to tell, he was letting his passion overcome his caution.

Did that mean he’d found something concrete?

“It’s a little town west of Philadelphia. Maybe an hour outside the city.”

“What’s the proof you’ve found this time?”

“Not just proof, boss. He’s actually living in a house with a gay couple. I’ve seen him, and he and the one man went out and bought him some new clothes, I think.”

Jealousy threatened to swallow Theo’s common sense then. He blurted, “Did they… Is Riku their third?”

“I don’t think so. I snuck a peek in the window when he forgot to shut the curtains. He sleeps downstairs on an inflatable mattress, although I don’t know why he doesn’t sleep on the couch that’s available.” He paused and then added, “Maybe he’s too tall to be comfortable. It’s more like a loveseat than a sofa.”

Theo’s heartbeat had picked up. He closed one hand into a loose fist and put it against his chest as hope coursed through him. “What’s he doing there?”

“I think he’s looking for work. He’s bought, or had bought for him, actually, a new suit.”

“Philadelphia… All right. I’ll get plane tickets and fly out there. What’s the name of the town?”

“It’s more like a tiny village than a town. It’s called Marisburg.”

* * *

Riku Watanabe, feeling like a caged bird, stared in horror at the orange cat fur that coated his suit jacket and trousers. “Fuck,” he whispered. He reminded himself the interview wasn’t today, that there was time to wash the clothing again, only… wasn’t at least part of the suit supposed to be dry cleaned? He couldn’t remember. He plunged his fingers into his hair and groaned. It wasn’t that he didn’t like cats, although he preferred dogs. He just didn’t need anything else to go wrong before his interview at the school for the deaf tomorrow.

Someone touched his shoulder and he jumped. He could be snuck up on easily with his limited hearing, but that didn’t mean he liked being startled. He opened his mouth to snap at Peter, remembering just in time that Peter might be able to read his lips. He was here on sufferance, or that was what it felt like, and he didn’t want to offend one of his hosts.

Since coming to Marisburg, Pennsylvania, shortly before the Christmas holiday, he’d nearly gotten himself thrown out due to rudeness on more than one occasion. He didn’t want that to happen, not with his future on the line.

Peter raised an eyebrow in inquiry and Riku shook his head, flapping his hands helplessly. Then he pointed at the suit, which he’d laid, neatly, in a cardboard box to keep it from getting dirty. Or at least that had been the vain hope.

Peter took a look and his mouth opened, releasing a sound that was loud but undeniably amused. He shut his mouth an instant later, looking embarrassed.

Riku shook his head and signed, “You’re laughing at me?”

“Do you know anything about cats?” Peter signed back. Then, without waiting for Riku to respond, he continued. “Cats love boxes. ‘If I fits, I sits,’ applies to cats. They especially love being surrounded by walls, or a semblance of walls, on all sides. That’s why cat scales in a veterinarian’s office are often squares with pretty tall sides.” He peered at the suit. “Tracks has really made himself at home. Let me get the lint rollers. At least he didn’t put any holes in the fabric.”

Peter was gone about two minutes, long enough for Riku to reconsider his frustration level. When Peter reappeared, Riku asked, his hands trembling just a little with nerves, “Would Abe give me a ride to the school, do you think?” He didn’t want to mention the rideshares and how they might not get him to his destination on time tomorrow. He wasn’t sure if asking Abe was a bigger imposition than he already assumed. If he hadn’t had to give up his car in Colorado, or stop using his credit card in Ohio, maybe he wouldn’t feel so trapped. He’d been without a job for over a year, and seven months ago he’d packed up what little he thought he could manage to use that actually belonged to him, and he’d fled East.

Swallowing hard, he watched Peter anxiously.

Peter set down both lint brushes and frowned at him. “Of course Abe will take you. The two of us may not agree with some of your spontaneous actions but we want to see you happily employed.” He paused and then added, “I mean, you know a lot about teaching English.”

Riku flushed. He’d been ranting, really, about the differences between ASL and spoken English and how learning both was a challenge for anyone, but especially for the deaf community. The languages shared much in common, but the ways they were different outnumbered the similarities.

Peter pointed at himself. “I thought ASL was the superior language, but you made me realize it’s equal to the spoken word.” He shook his head, looking rueful. “I wonder if that’s one of the reasons my wife broke up with me. She could tell I was prejudiced.”

Peter had been married before his union with Abe? Riku asked silently, then out loud, “You’re bisexual?”

Peter nodded. Then he changed the subject. “Don’t worry about Abe missing work or anything. It’s his practice, and if he needs to take off, ever, he plans for it.”

Riku sighed. “I’m sorry. I’m just anxious. I want this to go well.”

Peter’s eyes widened. It seemed a strange reaction to Riku’s words.

Glancing over his shoulder, Riku spotted the Siamese cat, who was a new addition to the Peter-and-Abe household, rubbing his cheek against the box. Riku hurried over to rescue his suit before it had cream-colored hairs on it too.

Peter handed him one of the de-furring brushes. He set his down for a moment and then signed, “Breathe. You’re going to do a great job tomorrow. As for your suit, we’ll hang it in the hall closet and keep the door shut.”

Grateful, Riku nodded and the two of them set about cleaning off the inordinate amount of cat fur.

As he worked, though, Riku’s thoughts turned, as they often had since he’d left San Francisco, to the life he’d abandoned. He’d had few acquaintances that weren’t hangers-on, wanting a handout from Theo, but he’d had his lover. That had, largely, been enough. Not because he was a hermit by choice but because most of his interactions with others had been online. There had been enough drama in the deaf community to keep people entertained for years, and in the deafblind circles where Theo sometimes ran, all anyone seemed to be able to do was talk about each other. Theo had once explained that tendency with “many don’t have access to the technology that would make reading the news or keeping up with other current events possible, so, being human, they talk about what they know -- other humans.”

Riku was taking care of the trousers, removing stripes of furry orange from the dark blue fabric while he chewed over why he missed his old life so much. It wasn’t just that he’d had a consistent roof over his head. It wasn’t the creature comforts, although there had been plenty of those. It was the quiet evenings, snuggled up with Theo while his lover read over applications. It was the passionate sex and the post-coital cuddles and kisses.

Was he simply dwelling on the good things he’d left behind? Well, yes...

Purchase at Changeling Press

Meet the Author

Emily Carrington is a multipublished author of male/male and transgender women’s speculative fiction. Seeking a world made of equality, she created SearchLight to live out her dreams. But even SearchLight has its problems, and Emily is looking forward to working all of these out with a host of characters from dragons and genies to psychic vampires. And in the contemporary world she’s named “Sticks & Stones,” Emily has vowed to create small towns where prejudice is challenged by a passionate quest for equality. Find her on Facebook at Shapeshifter Central or on her website.

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