PROMO: The Paradox of Love and Death

Promo

Artemis Glass has a new FF contemporary romance out: The Paradox of Love and Death. And there’s a giveaway.

Funeral crashing has been the best way for Noemi Moretti to release her pent-up emotions after the death of her parents. But on the anniversary of their passing, she meets Amara Forsythe, a beautiful UCLA student mourning her grandmother. Fate brings them together again at another funeral, but Noemi hides her true intentions from Amara. As their relationship blossoms, so do the lies that threaten to tear them apart. Can Noemi find a way to make things right before it’s too late?

The Paradox of Love and Death follows Noemi as she navigates through her grief and falls for Amara. But with secrets and guilt weighing heavily on her conscience, Noemi must confront the consequences of her actions before it’s too late. Fans of emotional and thought-provoking sapphic romances will love this poignant tale of love, loss, and what it means to truly live. As their connection deepens, so do the lies, and Noemi doesn’t know how to make it right. She soon becomes caught in a tangled mess that threatens to tear her, and her burgeoning relationship, apart.

For readers who enjoyed The Seven Husbands of Evelyn Hugo by Taylor Jenkins Reid, you won’t want to miss out on this powerful and heartfelt novel. The Paradox of Love and Death is a profound and heart-tugging sapphic adult romance about death, love, and what it really means to be alive.

Warnings: grief, loss of loved ones, abortion, family dysfunction, depression

Get It On Amazon

Giveaway

Artemis is giving away a $20 Amazon gift card with this tour:

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Excerpt

Amara looks at me and her eyes widen. “Oh my God. It really has. My grandmother’s funeral on the same day as my ex-best-friend’s funeral, and then I get caught up in the horribly tragic family soap opera that was his life? It’s been the shittiest day of my life.”

“I’m so sorry,” I say. I rest my right hand on her elbow as a gesture of sympathy and kindness. She responds by wrapping her fingertips around my wrist.

Her touch feels like something more than kindness. It feels intimate. It feels like an invitation.

“What I can’t understand,” she says, her voice shifting ever so slightly. “If it’s been the shittiest day of my life, then why do I feel so, I don’t know… like, jittery—but almost happy right now? Why do I feel like—like I have butterflies flitting around inside my ribcage?” I feel her graze the length of my fingers.

“Why do you have butterflies flitting around inside your ribcage?” I ask, my own heartbeat suddenly flitting wildly, too.

“Because,” she whispers. “I really want to kiss you.”

“Oh.”

“Is that okay?” I nod and let her tug me closer to her.

She wraps her fingers around mine and breathes in my hair. I feel the soft skin of her fingertips trace my jaw. She moans, and I feel my whole body alight with possibility.

I haven’t felt like this since Valeria—and we haven’t even kissed yet.

Fuck, is this really happening? I pull back. What am I doing? Am I really going to make out with a stranger at a funeral?

Her hands loosen in response to my hesitance. “Shit, sorry,” she says. “I thought I felt something between us. I shouldn’t have—”

“I want to kiss you, too,” I hear myself say, and then I pull her towards me. I place my lips on hers, and I feel her body relax and her mouth smile.

Our kiss is clumsy at first—we nearly bump noses, we’re both so nervous. Once we move past our awkwardness, though, we settle into each other’s touch, each other’s breath, each other’s rhythm. Amara’s lips are soft, her skin smooth.

The coarse tips of her long curls graze my cheeks, my forehead. Every time she steals another taste of tongue, every time she bites my bottom lip, ever so gently, she whimpers in pleasure.

My own body is enlivened, too.

It’s been so long.

This feels so good.

Fuck.

I am making out with a stranger at a funeral. This might be a new low, even for me.

Author Bio

Artemis Glass is a multi-genre author of sensually empowering queer adult romance who is on a lifelong journey to reclaim her sources of pleasure.

Her first full-length queer adult romance, The Paradox of Love and Death, is a profound and heart-tugging sapphic HEA about love, death, and what it really means to be alive. Available now on Amazon/KU.

Her Amazon bestselling series, Audrina’s Year of Yearning, follows Audrina Axler-Perez as she undergoes a funny, joyful, and spicy LGBTQ+ midlife awakening.

The novellas, Book 1: A New Year and Book 2: Valentines, Book 3: Lucky, and Book 4: True Colors now available! More coming all year. (Insert Michael Scott joke here.)

Author Website: https://www.artemisglassbooks.com/

Author Facebook (Personal): https://www.facebook.com/artemisglassbooks/

Author Facebook (Author Page): https://www.facebook.com/profile.php?id=100090104731744

Author Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/artemisglassbooks/

Author Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/24295606.Artemis_Glass

Author Amazon: https://www.amazon.com/author/artemisglassbooks

PROMO: Godspeed, Lovers

Promo

Godspeed, Lovers - TQ Sims /TQ Sims has a new queer sci-fantasy book out (strong romantic subplot): Godspeed, Lovers.

Lovable loner Casey Isaac thinks love isn’t for him. Not since extraordinary events left him with supernormal powers and a great deal of trauma. But when Oscar Kenzari looks at him, he can’t help but change his mind.

As Divinators, Casey and Oscar have used their psychic powers to defend humanity from sentient, extradimensional storms for one hundred years.

But a storm more powerful than any before is brewing. MaalenKun, prince of the maelstrom, conqueror of countless realities, plans to turn the tables by infecting Casey’s mind.

MaalenKun is not the only threat.

Casey and Oscar must determine who they can trust: the eccentric trillionaire keeping them in the dark, the independent contractors with secrets of their own, or a seemingly helpful extradimensional being shrouded in mystery.

As Casey works to defeat threats around and within himself, he must open to love for his chosen family, for Oscar, and for himself to unlock a transformative power capable of banishing MaalenKun. And Oscar must make a difficult choice that could cost him the future he dreams of.

Can Casey and Oscar’s love break the storm?

“It’s fantastic to have such an emotional, thoughtful, and at times really sexy story to enjoy and identify with. I love books that take characters who are usually shoved to the margins and make their stories, their struggles, fears, hopes, tragedies, and triumphs the focus–which is exactly what this book does.” –Doug Spearman, Actor/Activist/Writer/Producer/Director, From Zero to I Love You

“From the title page onwards, I was unable to put this book down. With excellent worldbuilding and rich, dimensional characters, T.Q. Sims’ Godspeed, Lovers skillfully weaves a world that is equal parts fantastical sci-fi, spirituality, and queer joy. I can’t wait to see where Casey and Oscar go next.” –Colette Bennett, Author, Enter the Meta

Universal Buy Link | Amazon | Goodreads

Excerpt

I realize that without assistance nearby from Casey, I would not be able to maintain the psybridge alone. I send him waves of gratitude and he nods at me. No one has to do this all on their own. It occurs to me, then to both of us. His special divination, his unique attainment, is empathic. He gleans from other divs that he syncs and replicates their capabilities. This is a new skill he is tapping into. He smiles with a hint of surprise and amazement before a hint of fear shows in his eyes. We both know the ability he is beginning to unlock through Four is incredibly rare and powerful. I nod at him, signaling my confidence in his abilities.

“Ready, Div Kenzari, Div Isaac,” Murtagh speaks and transfers her message to ensure we are tuned into each other in body and mind. “Prepare for mass heartstar turning.”

Murtagh stands in the pontiff suite at the metaglass bow of the yacht. She lifts her hands to the heartstar shining brightly in her chest. Casey does the same. Through the psybridge Murtagh’s voice is mighty as she addresses hundreds of divs ready to level up. Everyone, steady.

Murtagh and Casey turn hundreds of heartstars, locating within each the light-thread connecting each Div to MaalenKun’s energy. The sound of a bass drum echoes throughout our connections, and a low steady AUM builds as glowing mandalas expand and turn around Casey’s mudras. Hundreds of light-threads pour through the psybridge, glistening through space, and funnel through the mandalas. The array reaches into the crystal chamber and pins MaalenKun down just as Vasif breaks through, tearing away an entire end of the crystal before flowing inside and descending onto the immobilized Haddyc.

Now! I shout through the psybridge.

All the divs, all the Sages create space with and through their light-threads. Casey channels it into the trapped storm being enveloped by Vasif’s radiance. Vasif expands like rolling fog descending onto the darkened storm cloud. The force pushes against the Haddyc’s body within Vasif. As planned, the force steers the crystal closer to the rift.

Vasif roars like breaking timber as MaalenKun screams the sounds of bending metal. With fast moving vines, Vasif pulls MaalenKun into its body. A flash of purple-black lightning is quickly disarmed within Vasif’s expanding luminous body. The dingy cloud that is MaalenKun explodes into sprays of grey light and ash which slam against the interior of the crystal chamber and knock us onto our knees. The violent bursts of grey give way to explosions of white light before the explosions become invisible light, seen only psychically. As Vasif’s luminous body rips apart the Haddyc’s storm, sounds of metal bending and breaking reverberate through the crystal’s cracked surface.

The cracks grow and spread as the crystal chamber moves toward the rift.

Yahima looks back toward Mira and Liam. “Signal Vasif!”

“Hurry!” Mira urges. “Vasif is struggling!”

Yahima slides the ornate cover away from the coffer and hands it back to me.

The misty leaves which merged with the golden festoon within the ring shine brightly as they peel away. The leaves stretch long and thin. They become a film of glowing colors which psychically reaches towards Vasif. The EDB has shifted its shape as well. It has become a luminous whirling pale mist stretching toward the rift. A flash emerges from within the ring and a high-pitched peal pours from it. The rift crackles before a low hum reverberates from it. It is unlocked. The Helixx Corp drones zoom forward into the rift. Their flashing lights drift into the half-lit interior and disappear. Hundreds of divs work to immobilize and dull MaalenKun, and Vasif consumes the Haddyc. Vasif stretches itself into the dull half-light of the rift and expels the shredded body of MaalenKun and all of the Haddyc energy it had consumed and contained back

Through the psybridge, the sounds of hundreds of divs reaching new Levels builds. An ebullient music of their emotion swells and cascades around us. Joy bubbles forth from within and rolls like a wave through us, uplifting us all.

The unstable crystal shatters!

Vasif begins to drift. Luminous thin mists stretch from its body, and it clings to the open space around it.

From within the rift, a bolt of purple-black lightning rushes out, sizzling the space around it. As it moves past us, several of our gear functions are affected. I try to call Ops through the comm but hear only my voice reverberating in the helmet. My HUD flickers and faintly indicates that all of our thrusters are offline, but I swear I hear their quiet whistle through a looped sensation.

Casey drifts into the rift first. Yahima slings the coffer containing the ring back, away from the rift, as they sail into the half-light. Through our psybridge, I hear Liam and Mira and Carmel screaming as the two prescient divinators who could not see this coming disappear into the rift. Mira and Liam drop away from my psybridge. Carmel panics.

The music of the levels becomes discordant. Joy is torn away. The nimbuses grind against each other as they fall out of sync. There are so many. Even the Sages cannot hold them in place.

Vasif catches the coffer and begins to shapeshift into its more human-like body. I drop the ornate coffer cover, and it floats away. Misty vines wrap around the cover and the clear box containing the ring.

Behind me, a bright, fiery light grows as the purple-black lightning breaks the shields and pierces the wings. The psybridge is filled with wailing moments before the low boom of exploding deep space V’s reaches me. It all fades into muffled distortions as I drift helplessly amidst broken crystal and empty space.

My thrusters come back online, and I right myself.

Realizing my intentions, Thiia cries out.

Without pause, I fly into the rift.

Author Bio

TQ Sims TQ Sims writes stories that center Queer characters in supernormal situations. In their first novel Godspeed, Lovers, two men fall in love while using their psychic powers to battle sentient storms and an evil corporation that wishes to control them. Godspeed, Lovers is a story about mental health, post-traumatic growth, and found family.

TQ’s story “The Ritual” was a finalist in competition at the Tennessee Williams and New Orleans Literary Festival in 2022. Their work has appeared in Louisiana Words, Beyond Queer Words, and The Queer and Trans Guide to Storms. They live in New Orleans with their partner and a growing number of cats.

Author Website: https://linktr.ee/t.q.sims

Author Facebook (Personal): https://www.facebook.com/thomas.quentin.sims/

Author Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/t.q.sims

Author Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/47031065.T_Q_Sims

PROMO: Down the Line

Promo

AG Meiers has a new MM romantic suspense book out: Down the Line. And there’s a giveaway.

Revenge is a Dangerous Obsession.

Dean Hunt needs the story of a lifetime—Since his uncompromising attitude got him fired, the investigative journalist is hell-bent to expose the powerful and corrupt Conway family. It’s a career move, and absolutely not a vendetta against the oldest son Noel, who ghosted Dean after a mind-blowing weekend together.

Noel Conway needs a new start—After years away, Noel has come home to rebuild the bridges he’s burned. Too bad his past caused a ripple effect he can’t outrun. Now, he’s asked to save his family from the one man he never expected to see again but can’t forget.

Dean is chasing front-page news, and Noel is trying to protect the ones he loves. But the line between enemies and lovers gets blurred when a dangerous criminal from Noel’s past resurfaces. Will the truth shatter their tentative trust? Or do they have a shot at happily ever after?

But none of that matters when suddenly Noel disappears…

Down the Line, the final book in the award-winning Jake’s Bar series, is a spicy, M/M romantic suspense featuring a rainbow-colored bar full of quirky characters, and all the romance you can handle. So, download today, and get ready to fall in love with Jake’s Bar.

Warnings: smoking cigarettes and weed in the hot tub, kidnapping (on page scenes restrained), verbally abusive father

About the Series:

The award-winning Jake’s Bar series is a set of steamy, M/M romantic suspense novels, featuring a rainbow- colored bar full of quirky characters, and all the romance you can handle.

Universal Buy Link | Amazon

Giveaway

AG is giving away a $10 Amazon gift card with this tour:

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Direct Link: http://www.rafflecopter.com/rafl/display/b60e8d47310/?

Excerpt

As Dean reached the top of the staircase, a man stepped out of the shadows in front of his door. Dean straightened his shoulders. “Detective Conway.”

“Hunt.”

In a parallel universe, they might have been friends. They were fighting the same fight. Had the same enemies. In this world, they weren’t brothers in arms. In this world, Dean had been cast as the villain.

“How can I help you this fine morning?”

“Open the door. We gotta talk.”

“Look, it’s been a long night—”

“Just open the damn door.” Conway snarled, pushing into Dean’s personal space.

Dean stood his ground. “Are you here in an official capacity? Because then, the answer is no, I won’t let you in. You have no warrant, no permission to search my property. I don’t consent—”

“Just shut the fuck up. None of us wants this shitshow to be on the record,” Con growled.

Dean, curious, took a step back and raised his empty hand, palm up. “Okay.”

He fished for his key, pushed open the door, and quickly disarmed his alarm system. Conway didn’t wait to be invited in, just crossed the living room, dropped his shearling coat onto the sofa, then walked over to the large window overlooking the river.

The view was the only redeeming feature of Dean’s otherwise-generic apartment. The mess didn’t help. There were dirty dishes piled up in the sink, a pizza box on the breakfast counter separating the cramped kitchen from the living room, and an unmade bed in the other corner of the room.

“For a guy who anxiously waited at my doorstep, you’re awfully quiet.” Dean smirked. “Coffee?”

“No.” Conway turned his back, now studying the row of framed newspaper front pages Dean had hung on the apartment’s interior wall. His personal collection of historic headlines—headlines that changed the world.

The oldest was from July 6, 1776. The Pennsylvania Evening Post, printing the Declaration of Independence on its front page. Next to it, the Daily Telegram, declaring the end of the Second World War. The two most recent, the New York Times’ “OBAMA: Racial barrier falls in heavy turnout” and, of course, the front page the day after 9/11.

Dean had added a few more personal favorites, like Moneta J. Sleet’s photography of Coretta Scott King at MLK’s funeral. The first Black man to win the Pulitzer for journalism.

Conway took his time examining each framed newspaper. Dean already regretted allowing the intrusion into his space. He felt exposed—vulnerable—under silent scrutiny.

Irritated, he started banging around the kitchen. He was in no mood to explain that looking at those headlines every day fueled his ambitions and inspired his dreams. Dean believed with every fiber of his being in the power of a free and independent press.

He turned on the coffee machine and leaned against the counter. As if Conway felt Dean’s angry glare across the room, he finally turned and stared right back. For a moment, they engaged in a silent standoff.

Unease flittered through Dean. Camille had been right. Her brother was seething with anger. And Dean had no fucking idea what he’d done to piss him off. He sighed and shook his head, then took two mugs out of the cabinet and put them onto the island. “Miguel, have a damn coffee. You look like you need it.”

“Says the man who clearly slept in his party clothes and crept home at sunup.”

“Guilty as charged.” Dean shrugged.

Conway curled his lip. “I do not know what my sister sees in you.”

It wasn’t a question, so Dean didn’t bother with an answer. “You wanted to talk? So, talk.”

Instead of talking, though, Conway pulled out a stack of papers. Pushing aside the coffee cups to make room, he spread them out over the counter.

Dean froze. The first blurry photograph featured Dean in another man’s arms. In the next, the same man was pressing Dean against a white porch railing, his own hands tangled in the man’s messy curls. Conway fanned the stack, revealing nearly a dozen more.

Dean and Noel Conway, kissing.

Suddenly, he was there again, the ocean breeze tugging on his clothes. Noel’s warm skin, tasting like sunshine and a hint of salt, his eyes blown with desire. Goddamn, so fucking beautiful, with that shy smile, whispered promises—

Dean’s throat was desert dry. His ragged breath and the hissing of the coffee machine came together like a fucking symphony. “I—”

“Save it. My sister thinks you’re this hotshot journalist. Full of passion. Braving adversity. Motivated by a noble cause. Yeah, fuck that. You’re after my family because Noel pounded your ass, then dropped you like he does everybody else. Your pride—your precious ego—is hurt because you’re just another notch in my brother’s carved-up bedpost.”

Conway grabbed his jacket and walked to the door. He turned and added, “Watch it, Hunt. You got no job. No friends. No prospects. But if you think you’ve reached rock bottom, think again.”

Dean contained himself until he heard his door close with a soft click. Only then did he allow himself to swipe papers, cups, and the fucking photos off his counter. The cups shattered

on the tile floor.

Author Bio

Eighteen years ago, AG Meiers came to the US for adventure and stayed for love. Currently, she lives in New England with her husband and two awesome kids—balancing work, friends and family, and writing.

When she has some free time, her favorite thing to do is travel and visit new places. Her past trips have already brought her to a variety of countries on four continents. She never passes up an opportunity to experience different cultures, diverse people and amazing locations.

Even though she has been dreaming up stories all her life, she has only recently started to write them down and share them with the world. As a writer she loves to put her characters through a lot of challenges, conflict and heartbreak, before she allows them to find their happy-ever-after.

Author Website: https://www.agmeiers.com

Author Facebook (Personal): https://www.facebook.com/ag.meiers.1/

Author Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/agmeiers/

Author Amazon: https://www.amazon.com/stores/AG-Meiers/author/B07MCHQH5B

PROMO: The Hencha Queen

Promo

J. Scott Coatsworth has a new queer sci-fantasy book out, Tales from Tharassas book 3: The Hencha Queen.

“A richly painted world that is both beautiful and sinister, evoking landscapes that are as much science fiction as Tolkiensian fantasy. 5 stars.” –Ulysses, Paranormal Romance Guild

SILYA COMES INTO HER OWN, BUT WILL SHE BE ENOUGH?

Silya finally has everything she always wanted. She’s the Hencha Queen, head of the Temple, and is working to master her newfound talents. So why does the world pick now to fall apart?

Her once-nemesis Raven is off riding dragons, and their mutual friend (and her ex) Aik is nowhere to be found. Meanwhile, a new threat menaces the Heartland from the East, and if she can’t convince a reluctant Gullton city council to prepare for the worst, she may lose everyone and everything she’s ever cared about.

As she uses her magic-like abilities, wit and sheer determination to try to save the city, she’s joined by Raven and his new friends. Will their help tip the scales? And will they finally find out what happened to Aik as a dark storm threatens to sweep them all away?

Forget messy. Things just got apocalyptic.

Universal Buy Link

About the Series

The Tharassas Cycle is a four book sci-fantasy series set on the recently colonized world of Tharassas. When humans first arrived on planet, they thought they were alone until the hencha mind made itself known. But now a new threat has arisen to challenge both humankind and their new allies on this alien world.

Books 1 & 2 are on sale through March 31st for just 99¢ each (eBooks, all vendors). And if you buy one (or all three) of the main series books, email scott@jscottcoatsworth.com and let him know and he’ll send you a free copy of Tales From Tharassas, the prequel.

See All the Pre-Release Deals

Giveaway

Scott is giving away an eBook copy of Tales from Tharassas, the prequel, to everyone who enters the sweepstakes:

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Direct Link: http://www.rafflecopter.com/rafl/display/b60e8d47308/?

Excerpt

A sharp crack filled the wine cellar. Kerrick swung the heavy mallet back and then assailed the flopwood boards that blocked the tunnel entrance again. The ancient wood splintered under the blow, sending shards clattering across the stone-paved floor.

It felt good to work out his frustrations. Still, the stubborn wood held out against his assault.

He rested the mallet on the black-tiled stone floor, wiping the sweat off his forehead with the back of his hand. Even after a hundred years, the barrier was strong. He’d tried to pry the boards out of the solid stone, but they’d been fastened in too tightly. Brute force it is.

“You’re doing great!” Cor’Lea’s voice was artificially bright, and she was as tall as he was, maybe a little taller, peering over his shoulder at the sealed tunnel entrance.

Silya had tasked her with bringing him down here to check out these hidden caverns under the Temple, in preparation for the coming war. Important, sure, but also clearly an excuse to get him out from underfoot while she prepared for her official Raising.

He grunted. “Thanks. These boards are hard as iron.” And hard as Silya’s will.

One day things would be different between them, once this crisis was over. I just have to be patient.

Coral laughed. “I’m sure a big, strong man like you can break through them easily.” She squeezed his bicep appreciatively.

He shrugged her off. He wasn’t sure if the gawky initiate was flirting with him or just trying to encourage him to get on with it, but either way, he wasn’t interested. “Stand back.” He hefted the hammer again, and she scurried out of his way.

He suppressed a smile, swinging the mallet around for another heavy blow.

Craack.

This time the board buckled inward visibly. Another few hits should do it.

He pulled back the heavy iron hammer again and hit the same spot with blow after blow. Craack. Craack. Craack.

The mallet broke through and a board fell away into splinters, clattering across the stone floor. One down, three more to go. “Why did they seal this cavern up?”

Cor’Lea gestured at the natural chamber. “There was a winery here before the Temple. Sister Dor said they used to use it for extra wine storage.” She looked around the natural chamber, which was now filled with wooden shelving holding a variety of bottled food stores. “When Jas ordered the Temple to be constructed, they kept this wide cavern and blocked off the rest of the tunnels.”

“Just in case the gully rats got in?” That thief Raven had apparently made his home in one of the underground tunnels. Who knew who else—or what else—lived down there?

Cor’Lea snorted. “Maybe.”

Are tunnels all connected, somehow? That was one of Silya’s most urgent projects, to map out the network of caverns beneath the city. Another reason she sent me down here—to get me out from under her robes.

A few more whacks at the next board served to both break it and let out his frustrations at the situation preventing him from doing his sworn job and keeping them apart. And at what she said was coming.

Craack. Craack. Craack.

The board snapped in half, and he judged that he’d cleared enough space to step through into the blocked-off tunnel. “Hand me that lantern?

Cor’Lea complied, taking the opportunity to brush his hand.

He rolled his eyes. I should be flattered. But his heart was already taken.

It was times like these he wished his brother Enrick were still alive. He’d know what to do. He’d been absurdly confident about everything, even though he’d been younger than Kerrick.

Kerrick wasn’t great with women.

He took the lantern and stepped over the bottom board, holding it in front of him. The bright light temporarily blinded him as he sought to get his bearings.

“What do you see?” Cor’Lea peered through the hole behind him.

His sight adjusted, and the tunnel’s walls came into focus.

He whistled. Stacked along the side of the tunnel were hundreds of crates, all strapped together in groups and sealed. “It’s… I don’t know what it is. But I’ll bet Silya will be surprised.” They’d have to find a place to put all this stuff—whatever it was, it was likely rotten after all this time. Silya needed somewhere to store people, not ancient goods.

Cor’Lea stepped carefully over the splintered boards to join him. “What do you think’s inside them?”

The long row of crates disappeared into the darkness. Who knew what the ancients had considered valuable enough to stash down here. Coin? Lost treasure? “One way to find out. Does the Temple have a crowbar?”

Author Bio

Scott lives with his husband Mark in a yellow bungalow in Sacramento. He was indoctrinated into fantasy and sci fi by his mother at the tender age of nine. He devoured her library, but as he grew up, he wondered where all the people like him were.

He decided that if there weren’t queer characters in his favorite genres, he would remake them to his own ends.

A Rainbow Award winning author, he runs Queer Sci Fi, QueeRomance Ink, Liminal Fiction, and Other Worlds Ink with Mark, sites that celebrate fiction reflecting queer reality, and is the committee chair for the Indie Authors Committee at the Science Fiction and Fantasy Writers of America (SFWA).

Author Website: https://www.jscottcoatsworth.com

Author Facebook (Personal): https://www.facebook.com/jscottcoatsworth/

Author Facebook (Author Page): https://www.facebook.com/jscottcoatsworthauthor

Author Mastodon: https://mastodon.otherworldsink.com/@jscottcoatsworth

Author Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/jscottcoatsworth/

Author Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/8392709.J_Scott_Coatsworth

Author Liminal Fiction (LimFic.com): https://www.limfic.com/mbm-book-author/j-scott-coatsworth/

Author QueeRomance Ink: https://www.queeromanceink.com/mbm-book-author/j-scott-coatsworth/

Author Amazon: http://www.amazon.com/J.-Scott-Coatsworth/e/B011AFO4OQ

PROMO: Earthquake Ethan

Promo

R.L. Merrill has a new contemporary MM romance out, Forces of Nature book 3: Earthquake Ethan.

The Earth shook the morning actor Ethan Bradley arrived in Los Angeles looking for a second chance. He hoped his former producers Reese Matheson and Toby Griffiths meant it when they said to look them up if he were ever in LA because he had no other options. The pictures the paparazzi took at the wrap party for their London show made sure of that. What he wasn’t counting on was the reception he got from their manager, Arthur Frye. He was absolutely the kind of together guy Ethan wished would notice him, and for more than his pretty face and talent. Too bad Arthur only sees Ethan as a complication.

Arthur Frye has his hands full with his best clients—and best friends. The last thing he needs is another diva to care for, especially one who has a reputation for causing trouble. He has a strict rule against getting involved with the talent, no matter how pretty they are. Only Ethan Bradley shines for real, and when Arthur realizes his nice-guy innocence is genuine, he’s ready to do anything to help Ethan get his career back on track and get him out of LA. He’s too much of a temptation, and Arthur can’t afford to lose focus…not even for a chance at happiness for himself. Especially not when his star clients are about to risk their professional and personal happiness with their newest creation; a musical about two boys falling in love in the 1960s featuring music written by Reese’s grandfather, whose health is in decline.

Ethan Bradley shakes things up wherever he goes, and Arthur Frye is afraid he’ll be left in the wreckage if he gets too close. Can these two opposites find love on solid ground?

Warnings: implied sexual abuse off page

About the Series

Forces of Nature follows a group of talented men who are natural disasters, and the men who love them.

Amazon | QueeRomance Ink | Goodreads

Giveaway

R.L. is giving away a $25 Amazon gift card with this tour:

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Excerpt

The morning after Ethan Bradley landed at LAX the earth shook. Literally. Being from Iowa, he’d always been afraid of earthquakes. He remembered watching footage when he was a little boy of the one that hit Northridge and it stayed with him. He’d even turned down a part in the film San Andreas because he was terrified of the real thing.

Plus—at the time—he’d wanted to be considered a serious actor, and accepting a role in a Hollywood disaster blockbuster didn’t fit in with his professional goals. Instead, he’d ended up going to London to film a clever romantic comedy. Then came the stage and more accolades at the age of twenty-six than he’d imagined possible.

When his hotel room rattled his first morning in LA and sent him diving under the desk in the early hours, he’d wished he’d stayed.

But London had nothing to offer him after the paparazzi ruined his life, and he couldn’t go home. So there he was, back in the states, and ready to grovel before his former producer—and crush—for a role, any role, that would allow him to get back to doing what he loved…acting, singing, performing.

Love was a strong word. It was what he knew, what he was good at, where his God-given talents lay.

He’d come to LA with a plan. Sort of. Go see Reese Matheson. Pray he opened the door and took pity on him. And that he didn’t hold a grudge.

He plugged the Malibu address he’d gotten from his London manager’s office into the Lyft app and went outside to wait for his ride. And prayed.

If Reese wouldn’t see him, he had a plan B.

He’d go to see Reese’s business partner Toby Griffiths. Which was probably a terrible idea, but the best he had.

Because there was no plan C.

He had exactly fifty dollars cash on him and a credit card dangerously close to being maxed out. Rock bottom was flying up to meet him fast.

The Lyft driver dropped him off at the end of a long driveway leading to a quaint little house that backed up to the Malibu shoreline. He knew nine o’clock on a Sunday morning was early, but the earthquake had shaken him so much, he couldn’t wait to get out of his room at the Holiday Inn. He’d been to LA before to promote his films, but he’d never felt comfortable among the glitz and glamour of Hollywood and Beverly Hills.

Malibu had the scenery people thought of when they imagined Southern California. Palm trees, mountains that broke off into the sea, miles of sand with beautiful people jogging along the water’s edge. It was picturesque, and sometimes cliché. For Ethan, it represented his last hope.

He climbed the steps, cleared his throat, reached for that enthusiastic confidence that used to come so easy for him once upon a time—

The door opened before he even had a chance to knock.

The short Filipino man standing there in a pair of scrubs had one eyebrow raised and a hand on his hip.

“Can I help you?”

His tone didn’t come across as helpful, despite his words.

“Yeah, sorry. I’m looking for Reese Matheson? My name is—“

“I know who you are.” The man’s raised eyebrow turned into a frown. “Just a minute,” he said before closing the door with a little less force than a slam.

Breathe. It’s fine. Reese is a good guy. He won’t be angry that I showed up. He’s a generous, kind person—

Author Bio

R.L. Merrill brings you stories of Hope, Love, and Rock ‘n’ Roll featuring quirky and relatable characters. Whether she’s writing about contemporary issues that affect us all or diving deep into the paranormal and supernatural to give readers a shiver, she loves creating compelling stories that will stay with readers long after.

Winner of the Kathryn Hayes “When Sparks Fly” Best Contemporary award for Hurricane Reese, Foreword INDIES finalist for Summer of Hush and RONE finalist for Typhoon Toby, Ro spends every spare moment improving her writing craft and striving to find that perfect balance between real-life and happily ever after.

She writes diverse and inclusive romance, contributes paranormal hilarity to Robyn Peterman’s Magic and Mayhem Universe, and works on various other writing and mentoring projects that tickle her fancy or benefit a worthy cause. You can find her connecting with readers on social media, educating America’s youth, raising two brilliant teenagers, trying desperately to get that back piece finished in the tattoo chair, or headbanging at a rock show near her home in the San Francisco Bay Area! Stay Tuned for more Rock ‘n’ Romance.

Author Website: https://www.rlmerrillauthor.com

Author Facebook (Personal): https://www.facebook.com/rochellerlmerrill/

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PROMO: Princess of Shadows

Promo

Dive into Colin Alexander’s sci-fantasy masterpiece: Princess of Shadows: The Girl Who Would Be King.

A princess doesn’t lead an army. Or does she?

It is a hard life on a strange world under a red sun that never moves in the heavens, its landscape dotted with the ruins of the Ancients who came from beyond the sky. The Kingdom of the Light, Shadows, and Dark brought stability to this world for generations, but peace is dying as the kingdom crumbles. Rebellion and warfare are rife in the realm, and death in all its brutal forms stalks the land.

Aeryn, the Princess of Shadows, is second in line to the throne. As a young child, she loves stories of the Ancients and wants to see what is beyond the sky. The fighting, however, brings an abrupt end to her childhood and shatters not only the Light, Shadows, and Dark, but her family as well. She grows up amid war and loss, a smart, stubborn, and quick-tempered girl who promises her mother she would always do her best and vows to be true to her word. Childhood dreams must wait; her priorities become revenge and the throne of a restored kingdom.

Achieving any of her goals seems unlikely as obstacles are piled, one after another, in front of her. Armies fail, castles fall, and erstwhile allies betray. She makes plenty of mistakes and must learn from her errors fast enough to survive. She finds friends and allies in strange places, but there are many who see her as nothing more than a pawn in their own plays for power. The odds are not in her favor. If she fails, humanity will face a bleak future on an unforgiving world.

What is the future of a young princess beset by powerful lords and captains? What is the fate of those men when the princess decides to get even?

Warnings: Combat scenes both one-on-one and armies, named characters die.

Includes bi, lesbian and gay characters.

Amazon | Universal Buy Link

Excerpt

“Gods and Goddesses!” Sophia said as she looked at her daughter. “What has my little Red Rynnie been doing?”

The miniature tornado turned to Robert. “Mama says I should be called Her Royal Lowness because I’m little, but look at my feet!” She stuck out a bare foot covered in dirt from heel to toe. “If puppies have big paws, they grow into big dogs. I’m going to be a big girl!” She turned back to her mother. “And, Mama, Rynnie is a baby name. I’m too big for that already. I’m Aeryn the Red!” She held out a curl of hair the same color as Sophia’s. Aeryn the Red was a sturdy child of about six standards. Dirt caked both freckled cheeks under green eyes and smeared her pink dress.

“All right.” Sophia laughed. “What has Aeryn the Red been doing, and how is it possible that you got so dirty?”

“We were playing vendetta outside, Mama,” said Aeryn.

“You were playing outside with the boys? In your dress?”

“I love my dress.” Aeryn smoothed down the side of the dress and transferred more dirt from her hands to the fabric as she did. “It’s just like your pink one.”

Sophia sighed. “And what do you mean about ‘playing vendetta’?”

“It’s a game, Mama. Somebody is ‘it’ and that means they have to go, ‘I cry vendetta,’ and then they’re the vendetta rider and they have to tag everyone else and then somebody else is it.”

“Vendetta,” Sophia said. “Saints. In the bad old days before the Hammer, a man could ‘cry vendetta’ against people he said wronged him. That was an oath that he would hunt down and kill all of them or he would die trying.” She shuddered. “Families were destroyed, villages burned. Yes, men still have rencontres and they still fight their duels, but no one cries vendetta anymore. The Hammer put a stop to that.”

“It’s a game, Mama!”

“Oh, and are you dirty because you fell when you were tagged? Or did you fall trying to tag someone?”

“No,” Aeryn said. “Siggy pushed me into the fosse.”

Sophia shook her head and considered that. Siggy was Sigismund Fitzwilliam, eldest son of Dux Matthew Fitzwilliam, on whom Arthur often relied, and who made a point of being at Triad frequently. With his eldest. Of course, even if Siggy had been nothing more than the son of an eques, she could not have complained about him pushing her princess into a big ditch. Arthur the Hammer had famously said of his children, “If they can’t survive growing up like everyone else, they don’t deserve to rule anyone else.” He had written that into his Code as well. Children did not receive any courtesies of rank before they reached adulthood at fourteen. Aemond, Aeryn’s elder brother, was Siggy’s age and should have stood up for his sister—but, no, Aemond was with his tutor. Sophia settled for saying, “Siggy is bigger and older. He should know better than to treat a smaller girl like that.”

“It’s all right, Mama,” Aeryn said. “I didn’t cry. You know that.”

That was the truth too. Aeryn had announced when she was about three that only babies cried, and that she was no longer a baby. From that time forward, no matter the scrape, bruise, or fall—and there had been many—no one had seen her cry.

“Very well, my young Princess of Shadows,” Robert said, “what did you do after Siggy pushed you into the fosse?”

“Well, I climbed out, of course.” Aeryn paused to be sure her mother and Robert were looking at her. “He is bigger, Mama. So I waited until he was doing something else and then I ran into him from behind as hard as I could, and I knocked him into the fosse. Headfirst! His nose is bloody now.”

“You hit him from behind? That’s not very nice, Aeryn,” Sophia said.

“I wasn’t feeling nice. I was mad.”

“You need to watch your temper, my little scapegrace,” Sophia said. “Princesses must always be nice.”

Aeryn stomped her bare foot on the floor. Then she put both fists on her hips and turned to look up at Darnald. “What would Comes Robert Darnald, who advises the king, say?”

Robert found himself chuckling, despite the work he knew was waiting for him. Of all the children who swarmed through the castle and its grounds, he found Aeryn special—and not because she was Princess of Shadows, currently second in line to the throne after Aemond. “You are a princess,” he said. “You must remember that a princess should be nice whenever she can. However . . . it is much more important for a princess to always get even.”

Aeryn giggled and made something between a bow and a curtsy. “I want to go take care of Barnabas, my pony,” she said, and spun to go.

“You change out of that dress first!” Sophia shouted after her. “And you put boots on your feet before you go mucking in that stall!”

When Aeryn had vanished and the beat of her footsteps had faded, Sophia looked at Darnald and grinned. “You put dangerous ideas into that child’s mind.”

“No, Ma’am,” Robert said. “They grow there quite spontaneously.”

Author Bio

Colin Alexander is a writer of science fiction and fantasy. Actually, Colin Alexander is the pseudonym for Alton Kremer, maybe his alter ego, or who he would have been if he hadn’t been a physician and biochemist and had a career as a medical researcher. His most recent book, A Planet of Wrath and Tears, is his tenth and the fourth of the Leif the Lucky novels. Colin is an active member of the Science Fiction and Fantasy Writers Association, Mystery Writers of America, and the Maine Writers & Publishers Alliance. Away from writing fiction, his idea of relaxation is martial arts (taekwondo and minna jiu jitsu). He lives in Maine with his wife.

Liminal Fiction: https://www.limfic.com/mbm-book-author/colin-alexander/

Author Facebook (Author Page): https://www.facebook.com/ColinAlexanderAuthor

Author Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/colinalexander

PROMO: Spark and Tether

Promo

Lilian Zenzi has a new queer sci-fi romance out (nonbinary/pan/queer/gender-fluid): Spark & Tether.

Working odd jobs across the Outer Ring gets a little lonely sometimes—not everyone loves having a synchronist with supraliminal perception around. But all Sacheri wants, he tells himself, is to wander the stars.

Then he takes a salvage run to an abandoned moon where he meets the wry, reserved, strictly-by-the-rules archivist Jin. Mesmerized by their confidence and charm, Sacheri can’t resist showing off his abilities–and instead of the damaged ai he was tracking, he stumbles onto a signal left by a synchronist who went missing decades earlier.

Sacheri knows from previous experience that pursuing the truth—never mind justice—could destroy everything he loves. He would defy his employers, the institution responsible for the myconeural networks that make him a synchronist, and the leadership of several worlds.

And it would complicate his new, passionate, and impossibly sweet relationship with Jin. They might be the best thing that’s ever happened to him, but they work for the very entities that ended Sacheri’s last investigation.

He knows better than to risk it.

But he’s never been able to turn away from someone in need, and there’s a voice in the void calling for aid…

Universal Buy Link

Excerpt

/PROLOGUEOrinus Station, present daySacheri woke with a shiver in his nerves tracing his limbs like a lit fuse.

His synplants drew his awareness out into the station, into the whisper of leaves and the low hum of the machines, endlessly seeking. He had no solace to offer them, so he tried to sleep through it. Maybe inebriant would douse the burn; he’d have to find one, which meant leaving bed… but then, a walk might also help. The drink could keep him company on the return.

There was a certain maudlin poetry to wandering with the ghosts of memory, anyway.

#He regretted his choices before he could finish the first bottle.

The empty corridors echoed, even the ones with lush vine-planted walls, fully surrounded by sound-absorbent tiling. The unsteady sound of his steps reminded him of less lonely times; the chatter of more populated halls made him sad. His synplants cleansed the inebriant from his system faster than he could drink, so he diminished them, set a timer on his standard implant, and ducked into a maintenance corridor, heading for the lifts that would return him to his temp residence.

He’d forgotten how many ghosts were in his head.

He drank more.

He passed through too many familiar places, muttering curses to himself about the council for bringing him to Orinus Station in the first place. He should have departed with Paradis, gone away to her fancy little moon, where he could wallow in heartbreak on a lakeside beach while she teased him about his lack of ambition. She’d have been careful not to remind him of anything—anyone—else.

Three more nights until he left for Elysia, into the far reaches of the Outer Rings, away from the myriad reminders, the constant calling of what should have been, all of his aching regrets.

He avoided the halls that would have taken him past Paradis’s private suites and the memories lying in wait for him there, and then he wandered past the next set of lifts, because it was what he and Jin had always done: long walks and quiet talks, so close their shoulders touched, their bell-clear, mesmerizing voice low and loving. He tried not to think about how much he missed them, and, failing that, tried not to think at all.

He trudged along, hugging the shadows at the edges of the walkways, arms heavy at his sides, until it was late enough that he could reasonably hope to get a lift to himself, and he had some hope of sleeping. The only humans he’d passed in maintenance took no notice of him, which was the whole point of using the back ways. But they might make small talk if they found him alone in a lift car, or, stars forbid, they might ask if he was okay.

And then what was he supposed to do? Cry on them? Tell them to mind their own business? Explain how he helped bring something like justice to a few long-forgotten synchronists and how much it took from him? Or should he ask if they’d seen a certain lithe, black-haired investigator for the Council of the Outer Rings anywhere nearby? His eyes burned from both the inebriant and the exhaustion and the constant threat of tears. He wanted to sleep until the transport to Elysia was ready.

The bottle was empty, but he wasn’t ready to let it go; he thought he might sleep better with it nearby, just for company, even if the synplants wiped all traces of the inebriant from his system. He leaned against the rounded corner of the lift alcove, one heel against the wall to hold him steady, arms crossed over his chest, bottle dangling loosely from the fingers of his right hand.

His luck almost held.

Author Bio

Lilian Zenzi writes science fiction and fantasy, sometimes with romance and usually in queer normative worlds. Genre agnostic as a writer and a reader, she likes to keep space for comfort, hope, and joy along with the kissing, conflict, and big ideas. She resents having to write a bio and would rather be in the garden or making art.

Author Website: https://www.lilianzenzi.com

Author Facebook (Personal): https://www.facebook.com/profile.php?id=100093325026648

Author Facebook (Author Page): https://www.facebook.com/profile.php?id=100093193813533

Author Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/lilianzenzi/

My Free RV

personal

2023 was, in general, a year from hell. But one thing did go right: I got an RV! For free!

See, I keep my work vehicles in a rented garage at an RV storage lot. It’s big, heated, and totally awesome. And the place also has a water hookup and a dump tank, so it is even more awesome for someone with a mobile dog grooming business (which is what I do with entirely too much of my time). So one day I was going to get water and dump my dirty water when I noticed a sign in an RV window. It said FREE, with a phone number. To be honest, for free I would take just about any RV, but this happened to be one I liked. It has purple and teal stripes, and looks like my own personal idea of a good RV. So naturally I called the number.

Here’s the story I got explaining why they wanted to get rid of it for free.

RV used to belong to the guy’s uncle. He would take it to a lake in northern California for three months every summer. When he died, he left it to the guy, who liked the RV very much. But guy’s wife, now… she didn’t like the RV at all. Never mind that it’s pretty and in great shape, no RV life for her! So the thing wound up sitting in a storage lot. They tried to sell it and got burned. Then there was a massive hailstorm in 2013 (a day which I personally will never forget, as I was out in it) and the roof of the RV got trashed. Here’s where the story diverges a bit. I talked to the RV-hating wife on the phone. She said the inside was trashed, the roof vents had been leaking snow and rain inside since 2013, and she wasn’t about to fix it up. The guy, on the other hand, said he put covers over the trashed vents. I figured what the hell, I’ll still take it, even water damaged. There are worse things in life than warped linoleum and water-stained cabinets.

Long story short, I paid $1 for the title and keys. The damage was negligible. The RV started right up with a happy roar, and it happens to have my favorite engine in it, a Chevy Big Block 454. Heavy metal thunder! Woo! It was filthy inside, and it still needs tires and belts and hoses. That’s what happens when you leave a vehicle sitting outside for over a decade. So I will have to put some money into it before I can take it out on the road.

But who gives a crap about that sort of thing? I have an RV again! And it’s gorgeous! I cleaned it up, which didn’t take much effort at all. I hope to get the big old sucker out an the road. I’ve pretty much decided to name it the Cat Toy, and get custom plates that say DSRT RAT. Because why not?

I did remove the TV and VCR. Going to put in something a bit more modern. I also had to remove the passenger seat, because some doofus engineer didn’t check clearances on the final plans. When the seat is in place, the hump will not open, and you can’t get to the engine, because the seat is one measly little inch too close. But that’s no big deal, considering there are other seats with seatbelts. I’d rather have access to the engine if needed than have a passenger seat.

PROMO: Mu; Legend of a Lost City

Promo

M.D. Neu has a new MM sci-fantasy mystery out: Mu; Legend of a Lost City.

For years, the whispers and legends of a lost city hiding in the Pacific Ocean were just that; legend. On the day Kaimi discovers his parents, the Queen and King of Mu, murdered, Mu’s most powerful weapon fired, sending a pulse rushing towards the North American west coast.

After the 2025 Great Pacific Pulse Event, or Pulse, vomited up much of humankind’s trash in the Pacific Ocean along the North American west coast. The mysterious occurrence causing the largest environmental disaster in human history, people are no longer certain there is nothing concealed in the depths of the ocean.

Scientist Karen Linn and billionaire investor Michael Donovan want to find out what actually happened that day five years ago. Will Michael’s life in the adult entertainment industry and Karen’s moniker in pseudoscience keep them as social pariahs, or are they on the cusp of finding a civilization that has been kept out of our grasp, deep in the world’s largest ocean? How does the event from five years ago tie into the murder of the Queen and King of Mu?

What lies under the sea may be bigger than anyone can imagine, and neither civilization may be ready for the truth.

Universal Buy Link | Goodreads

Giveaway

Marvin is giving an ebook of Volaria to three different winners:

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Excerpt

~ Chapter 1 ~ Five years ago.

The dripping crimson on his hands contrasted the polished blue stone floors in front of him. Iron permeated around him, the scent made him want to vomit. But he couldn’t leave or move, he was frozen by pain and action. Soft warm light from the energy crystals reflected off the walls and floor, filling the space with a bright, cheerful glow, reminding Kaimi of all the wonderful memories this chamber held for him. The birth of each of his younger siblings. The day he introduced Makani to his family, followed by the celebration of their marriage two years later. Watching as Nohealani and Malo were joined in the presence of their gods. Seeing each of their children brought forth and presented to the family and the gods upon their births.

So much joy. Now this.

A burble of air. A cough. A gasp of pain forced him to see what lay before him.

“Help!” His voice yelled out.

Everything sparkled in those memories, but now the red slowly muted not only the bright glow of the veins running through the floors but also his pristine white shirt. From this day forward, the crimson liquid and the pungent fragrance of death would taint each of his happy memories.

More memories pushed forward, forcing out what stretched before him. Kaimi witnessed the day Kai Malina received the gift of sight from the gods of Mu, and was welcomed by Mana Lani into the arms of the world of Spiritual healers and Māhū. Something Kaimi didn’t fully believe in, well, not as much as he did when he was younger, but everyone had been pleased. Even he found himself excited. Past images of joy played out in his mind. The music, the fire dancing, the tumblers and dancers, the fragrances of meats for the prepared feast. So much elation that day.

How had Mana Lani or Kai Malina not seen this coming? They are gifted with foresight. They are the Māhū. Perhaps they only see what suits them.

“No.” Kaimi whispered. “Please, someone.” His voice called out again. “Help!” He bellowed.

More family memories rushed as his mind continued to process the scene. The recollections of Nohealani, Ulani, Koa, Kai Malnia, and him running around when court wasn’t in session. Were they all there? He was barely more than thirteen, too old to play with the babies, but somehow, they had managed to engage him. How many times did he and Nohealani have to usher their younger siblings off to bed, or back to bed, after sneaking out of their sleeping chambers only to find them playing here?

A growing collection of scarlet pooled closer to him. Pouring from her body, the thick fluid marred the sparkle of her dress, crystals handstitched into the gown to reflect not only the light of the kingdom, but the light of her soul.

This can’t be happening. How did this happen? Who would do…

Troubling recent memories leaked into his mind as more crimson oozed through his fingers, even though his hands remained firmly in place. Rust continued to overpower every other scent around him. The disagreements about how and if to engage the above worlders. The concerns and potential for discovery by those who live in the sun. Koa arguing with both the Queen and King about how encounters with those above would be the end of them and their world here in Mu. The Queen believing now the time had come to reveal themselves, hoping their presence to be a positive influence on the world above.

“We can help them. Teach them.” She pointed to the ceiling. “We have so much to offer each other. Our worlds have been separated for too long.”

However, when challenged and asked, neither Kai Malina nor Mana Lani were able to interrupt what the Gods had to say on the matter. He wasn’t sure what their gods would say, assuming they commented at all. But if the Queen believed in joining the world above, who was he to argue the point? The rest of his siblings offered what he hoped to be agreement.

Well, not all. They didn’t argue in public, but in private we spoke freely with each other, even loudly when the need arose.

I need assistants.” Kaimi called out, pleading with each word.

In the distance, the splashing of the tide pools outside the windows past the royal gardens filled his ears. Or were the sounds only his recollection bringing the noises to him? So many memories. Now this.—so much pain.—He peered over to the jeweled ornate windows, each crystal pane hand carved to reflect as much light as possible, while bringing the scenes of the world they once occupied to life with movement. Small shells from the creatures who filled the tide pools adding to the created images. A small breeze pushed the smells of water through the slightly opened windows, riding the air as more light shone through. The warmth on his skin and the taste of the salt water from the tide pools on his lips tingled all the way to his soul. He wished to be down there now, walking with Makani hand-in-hand, not here.

The blaring of sirens rang out, calling him from his thoughts, the piercing sound canceling out his calls for help. The puddles of red expanded around his knees and feet, beginning to soak his sarong.

A gift from Makani now ruined.

Kaimi forced himself to focus, his hands covered the wound before him. He glared up. As if seeing Koa for the first time. Koa stood over the body of the King on the floor. Koa stood and glanced down, offering no help. Red droplets on his white shirt and tan sarong created a similar pattern as the light crystals shown down on the kingdom when the light cycle recharged. At night, the crystals patterns were beautiful. Here, on Koa, the image made his stomach turn. Koa stayed quiet as he continued to hold the crystal pike in his hand.

Just as I found you. What happened? Why?

“Why?” Kaimi adjusted the pressure on the wound, trying to stem the flow of blood. The chest of the Queen raised and lowered slowly, but the inhalations were becoming much more irregular. He forced his stare up at Koa, his eyes moving from the weapon in his hands to the bodies on the palace floor.

“I… It…” Koa backed away, dropping the weapon to the ground, the clatter almost as loud as the siren still screeching to every corner of the palace, if not beyond. His head shook as he stared at his hands.

The main doors of the chamber burst open. “Koa!” A female voice called.

Upon hearing the doors, Koa made for the rear of the chamber.

“No!” Kaimi called out, wanting to rush after him, but if he did, there would be no one to care for the Queen or the King.

Author Bio

M.D. Neu is an international award-winning inclusive queer Fiction Writer with a love for writing and travel. Living in the heart of Silicon Valley (San Jose, California) and growing up around technology, he’s always been fascinated with what could be. Specifically drawn to Science Fiction and Paranormal television and novels, M.D. Neu was inspired by the great Gene Roddenberry, George Lucas, Stephen King, Alice Walker, Alfred Hitchcock, Harvey Fierstein, Anne Rice, and Kim Stanley Robinson. An odd combination, but one that has influenced his writing.

Growing up in an accepting family as a gay man he always wondered why there were never stories reflecting who he was. Constantly surrounded by characters that only reflected heterosexual society, M.D. Neu decided he wanted to change that. So, he took to writing, wanting to tell good stories that reflected our diverse world.

When M.D. Neu isn’t writing, he works for a non-profit and travels with his biggest supporter and his harshest critic, Eric his husband of twenty plus years.

Author Website: https://www.mdneu.com

Author Facebook (Personal): https://www.facebook.com/mdneuauthor

Author Facebook (Author Page): https://www.facebook.com/mdneuauthor

Author Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/authormdneu/

Author Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/user/show/66488958-md

Author Liminal Fiction (LimFic.com): https://www.limfic.com/mbm-book-author/m-d-neu/

Author QueeRomance Ink: https://www.queeromanceink.com/mbm-book-author/m-d-neu/

Author Amazon: https://www.amazon.com/M-D-Neu/e/B076FK1S14

PROMO: Rise

Promo

Queer Sci Fi has a new flash fiction anthology out: Rise. And there’s a giveaway.

RISE (Noun, Verb)

Eight definitions to inspire writers around the world, and an unlimited number of possible stories to tell:

An upward slope or movement
A beginning or origin
An increase in amount or number
An angry reaction
To take up arms
To return from death
To become heartened or elated
To exert oneself to meet a challenge

Rise features 300-word speculative flash fiction stories from across the rainbow spectrum, from the minds of the writers of Queer Sci Fi.

About the Series

Every year, Queer Sci Fi runs a one-word theme contest for 300 word flash fiction stories, and then we choose 120 of the best for our annual anthology.

Publisher | Amazon | Apple Books | Barnes & Noble | Bookshop.org | Google Play | Kobo | Scribd | Smashwords | Thalia | Vivlio | Goodreads | Universal Buy Link

Giveaway

Queer Sci Fi is giving away a $25 Bookshop.org gift card with this tour:

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Excerpts

It’s a simple recipe.

Passed down in whispers and hands tracing hands through flour and faith. Never written down, paper being too precious for such a small spell, some might say. Like something must be loud to have worth.

A common myth, one that serves her quiet magic well.

She sits pretty in commonhalls and houses, empty eye-sockets and a cloak of harmless charm enough for most to dismiss her. Certainly, her weaving or kneading is all her pretty head can handle.

She listens, and her hands move. Each stitch another secret, gossip kneaded into every loaf.

—From Simple Recipes for Small Magics – Ziggy Schutz

It wasn’t the principles that Matt Harden objected to. The principles were fine: Limited planetary resources. Circle of life. The wrongness of playing God.

But, he thought as he spread the herbs on the basement floor in the prescribed way, the principles were bullshit when you were faced with reality. When the only man who’d ever held your heart was stolen from you by a moment’s distraction behind the wheel. When you never had the chance to even say goodbye. When your body in bed was as cold and alone as a corpse in a coffin.

When the night mist was clammy on your neck and the grave-dirt heavy on your shovel.

—From Principle and Reality – Kim Fielding

“He’s here,” Matt said, slamming the door behind him. “You ready?”

“Think so,” Rory said. He’d finished the salt circle, and quickly moved on to placing the candle in the center.

“Will this work?”

“It’s this or nothing.” Once Tiff told them she’d survived a run in with the killer known as The Hook, Rory knew they were as good as dead. Supposedly this bastard had been killed before, but he never seemed to stop. Much about The Hook seemed unreal, but Rory thought it was the only weapon they had – the unbelievable. Besides, they were gay; those characters always died first.

From Best Served Cold – Andrea Speed

“You do realize,” the nurse said gravely, “that without your parent permission form, this procedure can only be temporary.”

“I do,” Sharon said nervously. Sharon. That was a good name, right? Sounded like Shawn, but wasn’t. Was a girl’s name. A woman’s name. She liked Sharon.

“And that given your parent’s lack of support for this, there will be a counselor assigned to your home to ensure your safety?” The nurse continued, checking the talking points on her tablet with precision.

“I won’t need it,” Sharon said nervously. “They think it’s a phase, but they’re not, you know, hostile.”

From A New Day – Amy Lane

Author Bio

This year, 554 authors entered the Rise contest. 120 of them were chosen, and their stories are included in this anthology: