Showing posts with label literary fiction. Show all posts
Showing posts with label literary fiction. Show all posts

Monday, April 22, 2024

Series Spotlight: THE CHRISTOPHER BOOKS by Stephen G Hardy - Includes Excerpt!

SERIES TOUR 

THE CHRISTOPHER BOOKS

by Stephen G Hardy

Follow Christopher as he explores various types of relationships and the impact he has on the lives of others.

The books need to be read in order.

Overall Heat Rating for the series: 1 flame

BOOK DETAILS

BOOK 1

Search for Complete

Cover Artist: Ryan Mulford

Length: 80 127 words /335 pages

Release Date: June 4, 2023

Genres:  Contemporary LGBTQ+ Fiction with speculative elements.

Tropes: Friends to Platonic lovers

Themes:  Interpersonal relationships, Conversations as Catalyst for Change

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

Goodreads

Buy Links - Available in Kindle Unlimited

Amazon US   |  Amazon UK

Blurb

“Why do I get the feeling that Christopher is the type of man that would make the perfect husband for any woman and, at the same time, the perfect wife for any man?” Laura says shortly after Christopher begins his new job at the TV station. Laura’s statement would turn out to hold more truth than she could imagine. No one who meets Christopher, especially not Laura, as well as David, a gay man he meets at a party, understands what it is about him that draws them to him. They also don’t realize that Christopher is searching for something, a search complicated by their desires for him.

BOOK 2

The Price of Happiness

Length:  84 447words/330 pages

Release Date: November 24, 2023

Genres: LGBTQ+ Contemporary Literary Fiction

Tropes: Love and loss

Themes: Parenthood, interpersonal relationships, finding oneself.

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

Goodreads

Buy Links - Available in Kindle Unlimited

Amazon US   |  Amazon UK

Blurb

As Search for Complete left off, the birth of his twins had just completed Christopher. However, though he has what he had searched so long for, he now must deal with the associated costs, namely the unraveling of his relationship with Laura, the mother of his twins. The birth of the twins should have brought Laura joy, yet, instead, she finds herself on an intense emotional rollercoaster. Laura resents Christopher's happiness—resents that he is a better mother than she is. But most of all, Laura resents that the twins are Christopher's spitting image—nowhere does she see herself in them. Christopher fears his happiness in becoming a father has become Laura’s undoing. As he tries to help her adjust to the reality of their situation, Laura struggles to find herself in the tangled mess of their relationship.

In The Price of Happiness, Stephen Hardy has created a profound and moving novel on the themes of parenthood, identity, love and loss—and the cost of getting what we want.

BOOK 3

When the Sun and Moon Touch

Length:  87 639 words/353 Pages

Release Date: March 29, 2024

Genres: LGBTQ+ Contemporary Literary Fiction

Tropes: M2M relationships

Themes: Finding oneself, forgiveness, love

The stories need to be read in order. This  book does not end on a cliffhanger.

Buy Links - Available in Kindle Unlimited

Amazon US   |  Amazon UK

Blurb

Christopher has settled into life as a single father to his twins, Loren and Christine. Content with his life, he is contemplating the imminent return of their mother Laura, who has been traveling through Europe for nearly a year, when he meets Benjamin, a direct descendant of the sun. Suddenly, his contentment is upended as he tries to understand the reason for their meeting. Despite what Benjamin says, that they are meant to be together, Christopher initially tries to hold Benjamin at arm's length, believing that he is only to be for Benjamin what Joseph was to him—a friend and mentor.

Excerpt from Book 1

I began to question accepting Laura’s invitation when I heard the noise coming from the backyard as we approached the house. I disliked crowds, and it sounded like an immense crowd was on the other side of the gate.

People were everywhere—seated on lounge chairs scattered around the patio or at the rectangular dining table or milling about in various groups—talking loudly over the blaring music. Laura’s voice broke through the noise.

“I don’t see Peter anywhere. He might be inside. Shall we find him?”

“By all means. I would feel uncomfortable attending his party without meeting him.”

I followed Laura into the house. As we passed through the living room, my eyes fell on a few framed photos of a handsome couple on the wall.

In the kitchen, a solitary male figure was removing a tray of croissants from the oven.

“Hello, Peter.”

As he turned around, I recognized Peter as one of the men in the photos. Tall and slender, with dark hair and a mustache waxed into handlebars, there was a dapperness to him that I found pleasing.

“Hey, Laura. Lovely to see you!”

After setting the hot tray down, Peter hugged her.

“Peter, I want you to meet Christopher. He just moved here from Seattle and works with me at the station.”

“How do you do, Peter?“

Having grown used to the reaction my presence caused, I smiled patiently as Peter, unable to speak right away, shook my offered hand.

“I hope you do not mind my crashing your party. Laura assured me that you would not object to her bringing me.”

“No, of course, I don’t mind.”

The words tumbled out one on top of the other.

“Is there anything we can do to assist you?”

“No, I have it all under control, thanks. Please help yourself to the food and drinks out on the patio.”

“We will. Thanks,” Laura said, taking my arm and steering me back through the living room.

“Peter is very nice,” I commented as we stepped through the doors and headed towards the drinks table. “Can I make you something?”

“A mimosa, thanks. Yes, Peter’s a sweetie.”

We stood sipping our drinks as I scanned the crowd of mostly men, a mix of young and old, before Laura took me around, introducing me to the people she knew.

I instinctively searched their eyes for the essence of another while ignoring Laura’s scrutinizing gaze.

Laura needed to use the bathroom, so she left me standing under the large Ficus tree where we had sought shade from the sun. Within minutes of her departure, I was surrounded by a large group of people vying for my attention. Carrying on multiple conversations was challenging, but I did my best to make each person feel they had my full attention.

He caught my attention on the periphery of my vision: tall and well-built, resembling the small statue of the god Mars that sat on the table in Joseph’s shop. Our eyes met, and I felt my heart skip a beat, seeing something flash in his eyes. Smiling hopefully, I extended my hand to him.

“Hello, my name is Christopher Dunn.”

As he shook my hand, I took the opportunity to search his golden-brown eyes. My initial hope turned to disappointment, for while something was there, it was not another’s essence. Though disappointed, I was intrigued.

“Davidmartelli.”

He slurred the two names into one in his haste to get the words out.

As I gazed into his eyes, the feeling of a purpose to our meeting appeared—first Laura and now David.

“It is a pleasure to meet you, David Martelli,” I said, saying his name distinctly.

David blushed attractively, causing a twinge in my heart.

“Can I get you a drink?”

He looked so crestfallen when I held up my cup that I was tempted to down my drink and ask him for another.

“Oh, you have one.”

 “I do, but I appreciate you asking.”

I gave him a smile to back up my words. It was apparent that David was struggling to find something to say, the frustration evident in his handsome features. I wanted to get him away from the people surrounding us and talk to him alone, but I did not see how I could do so without offending everyone else.

Conscious of the eyes watching us, David blushed again and backed away.

For some reason, I knew that this behavior was out of character for him. Watching him walk away, I hoped we would meet again as I wanted to discover what I saw in his eyes.

About the Author 

Stephen Hardy was born in the San Francisco Bay Area but grew up in the Pacific Northwest. His career as a fashion designer took him back to San Francisco before he headed to New York City, where he met his husband of twenty years. Tiring of the hectic pace of the fashion industry, Stephen gave up his career to become a stay-at-home dad for his and his husband’s two adopted sons and a quiet life in Connecticut. Now residing in Phoenix, Arizona, and with the kids grown, Stephen returned to university, where he rediscovered his love for writing. His focus is on contemporary fiction, examining social issues regarding gender, sexuality, and relationships. Search for Complete is his first novel.

Blog/Website  |  Facebook  |  Instagram

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Monday, February 19, 2024

New Release-Excerpt & Giveaway: THE LONG JOURNEY TO YOU by Vincent Traughber Meis

The Long Journey to You

by Vincent Traughber Meis

Publisher: Spectrum Books

Cover Artist: Vincent Meis and Andrew May

Release Date: February 17, 2024

Genre: Contemporary M/M Romance, Literary Fiction

Tropes: Age-gap relationship, friends to lovers

Themes: Survival, overcoming tragedy

Heat Rating: 3 flames       

Length:  97 000 words/350 pages

It can be read as a standalone, but the protagonist also appears in my novel, The Mayor of Oak Street (ages 12-21). The main story of this book takes place 40 years later and we find out what happened to him in flashbacks. 

It does not end on a cliffhanger.

Goodreads

Buy Links - Available in Kindle Unlimited

Universal Link  |  Amazon US  |  Amazon UK

Nathan’s traumatic past challenges but cannot stop the arc that brings him to Mateo.

Blurb

Nathan doesn’t know how to stop dwelling on the failures and tragedies that have plagued him since he was a twenty-one-year-old happily in the arms of the handsome young doctor he had pined for since he was twelve. Many years later after the latest tragedy, who could mend Nathan’s heart? If not a handsome young doctor, would an ER nurse do? After a chance meeting with Mateo, a lot of Nathan’s reminiscing is now devoted to how that encounter made him feel. Will he seize the day or continue wallowing in the past, having lunch with his best girlfriend from high school, and writing poetry?


Excerpt

“Are you okay?” he asked in a slight Spanish accent. His questioning eyes moved directly to the stain on my T-shirt where the juicy tomato from my lunch had squirted. Looking like blood?

I became acutely aware of my attire: baggy sweats that may have had other stains, a baseball cap with a tattered rim, and faded crocs. He wore neat magenta scrubs that matched the color of his full shiny lips. His nametag said Mateo.

The scenario must have been embarrassingly clear to him. I had wandered off from one of the many senior facilities that dotted the landscape of the neighborhood. If I exaggerated the confusion that I, in fact, frequently felt, he might take my arm, walk me back to the facility, put me in a bath, gently wash my back, and tuck me into bed. The more I looked into his onyx eyes, the more I wanted him to do just that.

“I mean, you looked a little lost…and sad.”

“Don’t worry, Mateo.” His eyebrows separated and bounced at the sound of his name. Then he smiled and touched his nametag, realizing how I knew it. “I’m lost in a memory is all.” I chuckled. “I suppose I do fit a profile.”

“You’re okay, then?”

“Yep.”

“My bad. I didn’t mean to profile you. I have experience with that, and it’s no fun.”

I imagined that he was doubly profiled, first for the color of his skin and then a second time when people caught a hint of his accent. 

“No harm done. I appreciate your concern.”

“It’s kind of my job. Sometimes it is difficult to switch out of that mode when I leave work.” He lowered his eyes, making me realize I must have been staring intently. How could I have not? He was an amalgam of all the men I had been attracted to my entire life: Mediterranean, Black, Latino, shorter than me, rectangular solid frame, soulful eyes, thick hair. But with an added twist. A dusting of freckles graced his cheekbones and the bridge of his nose. 

In a thoughtful gesture, he stared at the sidewalk and raised his hand to his chin, rubbing his index finger over his left cheek, revealing another physical trait that rang my buzzer: little tufts of black hair between his major and minor knuckles, a tiny forest to let my tongue wander through. 

Thank God, he couldn’t read my thoughts. Or could he?

“I should let you get on your way,” he mumbled, still not looking at me. He stared at the smashed apricots on the ground with, I imagined, quite a different take than mine.

I wasn’t ready to let him go just yet. 

“Do you work in one of these facilities I might have escaped from?”

“Now, look, I didn’t mean…” He took a step back in what appeared to be a desire to flee.

“I’m teasing. I haven’t seen you around the neighborhood.”

He tapped his nametag and twisted his neck to look at it. “Kaiser. It says right here. Kaiser Permanente.”

“I have trouble reading fine print.” I let out a small laugh, but he didn’t join me. 

He took another step back. “Just moved here less than a year ago.”

I guessed he was mid-thirties, and with his Spanish accent and African features, maybe Puerto Rican? Cuban? I imagined he lived with a wife and multiple niños. They spent Saturdays having barbecues in the park and Sundays from dawn to dusk at church events. He looked far too sweet to be anything but a family man. Now I was profiling.

“From?” I asked.

He let out a protracted sigh, as if the conversation had gotten way more involved than he had intended. His forehead crinkled again, hesitating to give me an answer. 

“The city. Getting too crazy over there.” 

Then he raised his head and his eyes met mine with the twinkle of a forest elf. Perhaps he wasn’t annoyed with me after all. Perhaps I had been wrong about sizing him up, though my conclusion that he was a family man was much easier to handle. Yet, he wore no ring.


About the Author

Vincent Traughber Meis is a fiction writer, a world traveler, and a former ESL community college teacher. When he’s not traveling, he divides his time between writing and working in the garden. Most of the characters in his novels and short stories come from across the LGBTQ+ spectrum and are racially and ethnically diverse. He has published eight novels: Eddie’s Desert Rose, Tio Jorge, Down in Cuba, Deluge, Four Calling Burds and The Mayor of Oak Street, First Born Sons, and Colton’s Terrible Wonderful Year. Tio Jorge, Down in Cuba, and Deluge have all won Rainbow Awards. The Mayor of Oak Street and First Born Sons have won Reader Views Reviewer’s Choice Awards. His short stories have appeared in several collections both in print and online, and have reached finalist status in several short story contests. A collection of short stories, Far from Home, was published in October 2021. He lives with his husband in San Leandro, California and Puerto Vallarta, Mexico.

Blog/Website  |   Facebook  |  Instagram


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one of four 4 ebook copies of The Mayor of Oak Street.

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Friday, June 2, 2023

New Release-Excerpt & Giveaway: THE SCARS OF LIFE by David Blyth

The Scars of Life

Author and Publisher: David Blyth

Cover Artist: David Blyth

Release Date:  June 1, 2023

Genre: Contemporary Romance/Literary Fiction, mystery/suspense

Tropes: Sexual identity, bisexuality, forbidden love

Themes: Psychological twist, mystery, family drama

Trigger Warning: Supplementary themes involve sexual identity and a teenage incestuous occurrence: neither are covered in detail, or described graphically, as they were ‘incidents’ rather than relationships, though they have an impact on the development of the narrative.

Heat Rating:  2 - 3 flames

Length: 95 000 words/362 pages 

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

It has a HEA of sorts - it fits vaguely into the romance genre with a lot of psychological suspense and mystery interwoven.

Goodreads

Buy Links - Available in Kindle Unlimited

Amazon US  |  Amazon UK

Paperback also available from Barnes and Noble

A troubled mind, a dysfunctional love story, a psychological twist….

Blurb 

Paul Somerfield, a young journalist for Planet Earth magazine, shares a brief friendship with the enigmatic Mike Stokes during an assignment in Devon. It leads to a disruptive fascination and a reluctant complicity in events that evolve from Mike’s tragic past.

On a journey where emotions influence his brittle control, Paul pursues the truth. But the truth has many disguises which disrupt his relationships, his rationality and his life.

A reminder of how fragile the stability of love and trust can be: a journey that follows fear and doubt as they steer lives into a downward spiral of destruction. 

Excerpt

(To place in context: Paul (the main character) has just taken a trip over the moors (Dartmoor, Devon, UK) with Mike (the mysterious second character) who he met just a few days ago and befriended).

After a few minutes, with the sun transferring energy to untanned skin, Paul plunged forward to swim towards the opposite bank. Standing up in the shallow water, his gaze rested on his friend still stretched out below him. Mike’s eyes remained closed, the gentle rise and fall of breath the only movement in his body. He could almost have been asleep, but Paul knew he was not, and equally certain of Mike’s awareness of a close observer, perhaps another gift to them both from the custodian of the paradise who chose to share it. Paul was neither embarrassed nor aroused by the hedonic posture, which perfectly balanced the equilibrium, complimenting the setting. He only felt gratitude.

Time slowed to allow appreciation of the scene. Eventually, with reluctance lest the spell be broken, Paul spoke again, “You need another cold dip, mate.” The words were an intrusion. He strained to speak at all. An atmosphere of expectancy subdued his responses.

Mike remained silent. As he turned his head, his eyes filled with a remote but compelling vision. Paul was a prisoner to that gaze. The surroundings drifted out of focus as the man held out a hand in an undeniable gesture of reception.

The sensual element formed a command. With water lapping knees, he leaned as fingers enclosed one arm in a soft grip. Mike’s eyes held a silent appeal. It defied refusal. Legs felt weak, folded, he fell forward, his free hand placed near Mike’s shoulder.

“Mike....” Words came like sobs from his lips, “I … I don’t ... I can’t....” He took shattered breaths, which formed around, “I’m sorry….”

Steady hands cradled his bowed head in a gentle caress. Wet hair supplemented the tears that unmanned him. The softest touches of Mike’s fingers smoothed them from his cheeks.

“Get out of the water, Paul.” Words almost whispered, close to his ear, with barely disguised authority.

Paul responded, unconsciously, climbing onto the stone.

Lines of sweat blurred his eyes. The atmosphere, heavy with anticipation, directed his senses, regulated his responses. Or, a will projected from a powerful force far below him, buried in the rock beneath. The body below him appeared able to harness that power without the need for physical participation. Paul, aware of the reaction of his own body to so sensual a situation, was powerless to subdue it. His skin absorbed the life below with every touch. Nerves ignited with every caress. His senses stimulated by conduction from another’s, as the strained form below him ascended the pinnacles of climactic rapture. Salt tears and sweat, sun warmed skin against his lips, shared breaths of confined desire; the noise of life pounding at his ear, the considerate grip of passion embracing him with a bond of impregnability. All volition was gone.

Suddenly, as though perpetrated by a violent act upon the man below him, the body became still. Only Mike’s relaxed breathing convinced Paul he was innocent of such a deed. Time was striving to catch up with its unnatural stagnancy. A stale memory of desire stained his mind like a contamination of his thoughts; the fruit of an unguarded crop of passion, which left behind the bitterest aftertaste.

Paul stared at the slope they walked down earlier. Then he stood, turned, and dived back into the water. He held no immediate aspiration to emerge from that tranquil medium, doing so only when the pain in his chest forced him to return to reality. Thrusting his feet towards the bed of the stream, he launched to the surface, gasping for air. The vision that met his eyes when his violent breaths had calmed was of a dream shattered. The picture was not as it appeared earlier. The sky painted a tormented brown. The breathtaking scene, transformed to a bleak and forlorn landscape. Air and water around him, tainted with pollution.

Turning his eyes across the water, he saw Mike walking up the slope wearing his shorts, boots held by their laces in one hand, his T-shirt trailing from the other and dragged along the grass. Swimming to the bank, reaching his clothes, he fought jeans over a wet body and slipped on his shoes. Grasping his shirt and camera bag, he stumbled up the slope in his haste. “Mike! Wait!” he called in a weak voice, breathing hard. The man did not respond to his cry. Catching up as they entered the trees, he reached out to the man’s shoulder, halting his progress.

Mike turned, a hard, almost pitiless stare, as he looked deep into Paul’s eyes.

For a moment, Paul was unable to speak. So intense a visage, it took away what little breath he had left. “You bastard! Don’t walk away from me as though your dignity’s been bruised.” He dropped his shirt and bag to his feet, and braced both hands on his knees. Breathing heavily, he waited for some reaction.

“Don’t lecture me about dignity.” The man answered, sharply.

He felt a consuming fury growing within. Standing again, Paul received a harsh look of accusation. As anger conquered instincts, he swung a clenched fist towards the man’s head. The punch found its target, striking a heavy blow to the jaw. Mike made no attempt to avoid the impact; blood soon appeared between his lips, trailing down the side of his chin. He stood motionless, looking into the eyes of his assailant. Paul remained poised, as though prepared to deliver another attack. Yet, in reality, he’d been stunned by the recognition of his actions. Mike’s eyes never flinched as he reached towards the fist, then enclosed it in a strong grip. Paul stood, mentally helpless and physically defeated, as the man lowered the arm back to his side.

“Paul, let’s go home.” The expression on his face softened before he turned to walk ahead.

About the Author  

David Blyth was born in Staffordshire, in the UK. He graduated from Nottingham and Wolverhampton Universities.

He lived for many years in South Africa, where he witnessed the political and social transformation during and after apartheid.

His interests, apart from writing, include anything that helps him to stay relatively sane.

The Scars of Life was written during a two-year overland exploration of southern, central and east Africa; much was achieved sitting under the shade of a huge mango tree on the shores of Lake Malawi, always with a beer near at hand.

Separate Development, which is in fact his second novel, though published first, was written at his home in the English Midlands.

He is currently working on his third.

Blog/Website  |  Facebook Profile  |  Facebook Author Page

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Thursday, March 15, 2018

Spotlight-Excerpt & Giveaway: LOVE OF FINISHED YEARS by Gregory Erich Phillips

Love of Finished Years Tour Graphic
LOVE OF FINISHED YEARS
Award-winning author Gregory Erich Phillips

Genre: Historical Fiction, Literary Fiction
Publisher: SillanPaceBrown
Publication Date: January 3, 2018
An Immigrant Girl's Powerful Journey of Aspiration and Love in Early Twentieth Century New York
Pre World War One, Elsa came to America with her eyes wide open, realizing it was up to her to make a life for herself. Surviving a sweat shop in lower Manhattan, a chance job with a Long Island elite family opens up her world. Invited in up to a point, she unwittingly, albeit precariously, crosses the social divide with her now open heart, which puts all she had worked for in jeopardy.
Grand Prize Winner
Chanticleer International Book Awards and Chaucer Historical Fiction Book Awards
A wonderfully satisfying reads.
- Chanticleer Reviews
"What a truly wonderful story! I've read it three times, and with each reading I find myself caring about the fabulous characters and their lives even more."
- P.J. Alderman, New York Times Bestselling Author
"I do hope the author has a sequel in the works...a beautiful novel that is set in a fascinating time in our nation's history."
- Linda S., Boulder, Colorado

PURCHASE LINKS

Excerpt

Walking upstairs, she heard the gramophone spinning as Dafne and Glenn danced together in the billiard room.

“We were sailing along, on Moonlight Bay,” hummed both voices together with the music.

Elsa tried to slip into the room to watch unseen. It always made her happy to watch Dafne and Glenn dance together. Dafne saw her and extended her arm away from her fiancé, brightly smiling and inviting Elsa toward them. She walked over. Dafne slipped her arm around Elsa’s back, rocking with her until she was dancing, too. Dafne laid her head on Elsa’s shoulder, still humming the tune of Moonlight Bay. Elsa could hardly help being aware of the brush of Glenn’s arm against her other side.

“How I love you both,” Dafne cooed as the song ended. “As long as we three are together we will always be happy. Nothing ever needs to change.” She flitted away in her cornflower blue dress and put the needle back at the beginning of the record. “One more time, then you can give Jeanette her record back.” The song started again.

Dafne plopped into a chair, draping her legs over the padded arm. “I don’t think I will miss Lindenhurst at all, since we are all going to New York together.”

“You’ll miss it more than you think,” Glenn said.

“Nonsense.” She closed her eyes and hummed with the music. “Dance with Elsa.”

Elsa, who had remained standing in the middle of the floor beside Glenn, immediately started to back away toward the wall. Dafne lurched out of her seat and pushed her back toward Glenn, who was just as hesitant as Elsa. She grabbed him too, and thrust them together. Dafne forcefully shaped Elsa’s arms into a proper dancing posture around Glenn, and then she commanded Elsa to relax.

Glenn began to walk to the beats of the music. He was easy to follow. After a moment Elsa forgot herself and really did start to relax.

“Don’t look at your feet,” said Glenn gently. “If you think about when to step, you will be late. You can feel the rhythm through me.”

Elsa tried to follow his instructions. Dafne followed them, encouraging and repeatedly lifting Elsa’s drooping chin.

Elsa was glad when the song ended, only then realizing how much fun it had been. She stood back properly against the wall, even though she felt giddy inside. She had never been in that sort of physical contact with a man before. It was inappropriate to have enjoyed it so much.

Dafne smiled and patted her shoulder. Elsa could tell that Dafne understood exactly how she felt. Her face grew red.

“There will be a lot more fun for you in New York,” said Dafne. “Just you wait and see.”

About Gregory Erich Phillips

This moving debut novel by Gregory Erich Phillips won the grand prize in the Chanticleer Reviews International Writing Competition. From a prolific literary family, Gregory tells aspirational stories through strong, relatable characters that transcend time and place. Living in Seattle, Washington, he is also an accomplished tango dancer and musician.

Tour Schedule

Follow the Book Tour: February 26 - March 17, 2018.
Visit each tour stop daily and discover more features, excerpts, reviews, interviews, fun facts and more!
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To check the latest tour schedule, visit the Love of Finished Years Book Page at Book Unleashed.

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