Wednesday, November 30, 2011

A Review That Made Me Cry.... in a Good Way

I am a huge fan of Tom's at A Bear on Books, and was honored to discover that he planned to review The Angel of Thirteenth Street. He posted that review tonight, and I cried, not only for his kind words, but how beautifully this man writes. Here's some of what Tom had to say:
"This book was one of those amazing perfect storms that doesn't happen very often.  The characters are so sharply drawn, but disturbingly human and shaded and nuanced, the storyline engaging and relevant without pretense, the dialogue crisp, and the romance heartbreakingly painful and bittersweet.  I was drawn in and grabbed from the first page, and was unable to put this book down until I had devoured it whole.
"God, I loved this book.  I read it through twice just to savor what it tastes like and feels like and smells like when a master prepares a feast for me. "

Visit A Bear on Books to read complete review here:

Friday, November 25, 2011

Remiss in Posting Reviews

If I've been remiss in posting reviews, am I in remission? Or is correcting that a "re-mission"? Whatever the case,  my stories have recieved four awesome reviews from Mrs. Condit Reads Books (and they scored some Sweet Peas too!)

Check out her kind words here:

The Wish

The Boy Under the Bridge

And for her Veteran's Day post:

The Telling

Night Watch

Thursday, November 24, 2011

Can Women Write Hot Gay Sex? Dr. Porne's Verdict

I recently read an article over at Chicks & Dicks, entitled "Can Women Write Hot Gay Sex? Dr. Porne's Verdict." As you can imagine, that gripping headline got my attention. Intrigued? Check out what the doctor has to say at: Chicks & Dicks

Now I need a T-Shirt that says, "President of the Doctor Porne Fanclub."

I'd also like to say that while  you're on the site, check out some other articles there. "One Family's Transgender Tale" left me in tears, and reminded me that family is what and who we make it. Very, very moving tale.

Wednesday, November 23, 2011

Another chance to win a copy of A Lie I Can Live With

On Saturday, November 26, the good folks at Brief Encounters Reviews will host a contest for a copy of A Lie I Can Live With. Leave a comment on the giveaway thread stating that you'd like to be in the drawing. So head on over to Brief Encounters on Saturday, and be sure to check out their awesome reviews while you're there.

Find them here.

Author Extra for A Lie I Can Live With

A Lie I Can Live With is told from Otis' point of view, but wouldn't you like to know what was going through Garret's head the first time he saw Otis' profile on the dating site?

Garret plopped down into his computer chair, muscles still pinging from a
five mile run. First he checked emails, grimacing at his sister's good
natured, "So, are you bringing anyone to Thanksgiving dinner this year?" He
sighed. No, not last year, not this year, and he didn't hold out much hope
for next year either.

Refusing to give up just yet, he replied a non-committal, "We'll see." Fat
chance of finding anyone within the next few weeks, and not just anyone
would do. When Garret did finally take a man home to meet the folks, it'd be
the keeper of his dreams, Mr. Right, for he'd had it with Mr. Right Now.

After triaging his remaining emails, he logged on to, the GLBT
dating site that he'd all but given up on after a year's fruitless search
for a good man. He scrolled through the list of perspective dates, who'd all
tagged his profile as "Interested." Huh. Only fifty today. Must be a slow

One by one he discarded the profiles for various incompatibilities. "Done
him, and don't want to again," he commented to a potted geranium on his
desk, clicking on the "Not Interested" button that'd theoretically delete
that man's profile from his home page, knowing from experience he'd find the
same one added back next week.

He pulled up the next profile. "Lives in
Bangladesh. No hope there." The
plant seemed to droop its leaves in sympathy.

The next profile picture caught his eye until he read the "About Me" blurb,
recalling the date from hell a few weeks ago. "Damn, but that one was
shallow." Clicking the "Not Interested" button, he sing-songed, "And another
one bites the dust… "

About to log off and spend another lonely Sunday afternoon, he noticed a
message that said, "Hey there!" and clicked on the attached profile.

"Well, 'hey there,' yourself, handsome. Loves movies, microbreweries, and
anime conventions," he read. "I can live with that. And you cook!" Garret's
eyes shot from that nugget of knowledge back to the man's picture. His mouth
dropped open. "Oh, wow! I bet you hear this all the time, but you look like
Dr. Mack from Tennessee Trauma!" Could this guy possibly be for real?

More excited than he'd been for a long time, he dashed off a quick message:

Hey yourself! How in the world did I miss your profile? Did you only
recently join the site?

Though it went against his normal policy of taking things slow, he added:

I'd love to meet you.

He logged off and trotted into the bathroom to take a shower. As he stared
into the mirror at the face that had earned him the nickname "Adonis" in
college, he quietly whispered, "I wonder if this one will bother to look
past what I look like to see the real me."

A Lie I Can Live With, out now from Torquere Press!

With a few extra pounds and a geek reputation, Otis Tucker despairs of ever finding someone to share his life with. When the GLBT dating service matches him with handsome hunk Garret, he thinks it's some kind of joke. But the more he learns of Garret, the more he realizes that even gorgeous people can be taken at face value and that Mr. Perfects come in many different sizes.


The sixth profile caught his eye. What a handsome man, and what a smile! That picture must be a photo manipulation, and a good one. He'd love to know what program had been used, because nobody really looked like that in real life, did they? Otis snorted. Probably a model's picture yanked off the Internet. He knew from personal experience that site members did that.

"Garret, gay male, twenty-eight, professional, independent, and looking for a 'geeky bear of my very own,'" Otis read aloud. The profile went on to say that "Garret" also had a thing for guys with old-fashioned names and believed computer nerds were hot. This had to be a joke, right? Had Barry made up this profile to give false hope? Otis discounted that theory immediately. From what he'd seen so far, Barry was on the up and up.

He clicked on Garret's "Hobbies" folder. "Loves Buffaloes football," he read aloud. I wonder if he feels as bummed out as I do right now. He kept reading, "Enjoys fishing, long walks, and working out." Otis looked down at his belly, mood dropping. "There's something we don't have in common."

When he reached the "Interests" folder, his spirits lifted, seeing that Garret loved international cuisine. "I could hook you up with some authentic Italian food," he told the smiling image onscreen.

"I suck at cooking," Garret's About me, blurb stated.

"Got ya covered," Otis remarked.

He stared at the profile again, purposefully diverting his eyes from the picture. In terms of their common interests, they were a match made in cyber-heaven. Too bad the guy was an Adonis and Otis was Shamu.

What would Garret think if Otis were to contact him? Would he even bother to read the profile and see their similarities before clicking "not interested?" For a moment Otis contemplated resurrecting Vincent. "Don't you dare!" his conscience shouted, sounding amazingly like Barry. With a here goes nothing attitude, Otis clicked the button that sent Garret a simple message: "Hey there!"

Find it here:

Tuesday, November 22, 2011

Special Offers From Dreamspinner Press

Dreamspinner has asked authors to help spread the word about three special events going on between now and the end of November.
 First, we're having a We Are Thankful Sale, 20% off everything on the website through Nov. 30.
Secondly, we reached 1500 fans again on our Facebook page after FB ate the old one. To say thank you, there's a code on the page for 15% off one order of any size over the next year. Please send readers to the FB page,, to get the code. Finally, every purchase between now and Nov. 30 enters people in a drawing for a Kindle Fire, to be drawn on Dec. 1.
I don't know about you, but I think it's time for me to go get those books I've had my eye on over at Dreamspinner. 

A Lie I Can Live With

I've just been informed that A Lie I Can Live With will publish late this evening at Torquere Books.
With a few extra pounds and a geek reputation, Otis Tucker despairs of ever finding someone to share his life with. When the GLBT dating service matches him with handsome hunk Garret, he thinks it's some kind of joke. But the more he learns of Garret, the more he realizes that even gorgeous people can be taken at face value and that Mr. Perfects come in many different sizes.

I'll post a direct link when it become available, but you can find it on my author page at Torquere the moment TQ puts it up:

Happy Birthday John! Aka "John From Texas"

The Gift

For John on his forty-seventh birthday. Hugs, and all the love in the world.

John sat on his tractor, watching a dark green S-10 kick up a cloud of dust down his driveway. Whoever it was seemed to be in an all-fired hurry. He lifted the bill of his hat, wiping his sweaty forehead with one gloved hand. Living so far from town, it wasn't often he saw strangers, particularly not ones making a beeline for his house.

Oh well, whoever it was – probably an insurance salesman – could damned well wait. He needed to get the field plowed before the skies gave up threatening and rained for real. And the dogs would make sure the driver didn't mess with anything. The drag of a plow behind his John Deere soon took his mind off the unknown truck, and he raced an ever-darkening sky. Finally, as the first splashes of rain sprinkled his nose, he declared himself finished and headed for the barn.

He hopped off his tractor to swing open the gate, climbing back on to drive through. Damn but things would be a whole lot easier if he could find some quality help. But farm work didn't pay much, and few trustworthy applicants were willing to live on the farm full-time, so he'd adapted, climbing up and down a million times a day, it seemed, just to get his work done. He'd completely forgotten about the S-10 until he nearly ran over it. Now what the hell? The little pickup sat nestled in the barn where the tractor should go. The rain started falling in earnest.

Huffing in frustration, he turned the wheel, hard, bypassing the main barn for a shed in the back. It was a tight squeeze, and not his first choice, but at least the tractor was out of the weather. He peeled his work gloves off and placed them on the seat when he stood, his back popping as he stretched. Forty-seven years old. Today. My, where had the time gone?

A glance over his shoulder showed three dogs on alert in the very front of the barn, out of the rain, guarding the trespasser. If not for their protective tendencies, they'd be swarming the tractor, yipping and yapping as though John had been gone for days, not merely a few hours out in the fields plowing.

Taking a deep breath, he dropped to the ground, curiosity changing to concern as to why the driver of that truck hid it in the barn. Scouting out the best route through suddenly soggy ground, he ran for the nearest stable, swinging the door open and slipping inside, shaking rain from his shoulders. He pulled off his NAPA cap, shook it, and slipped it back on, ready to face what lay ahead.

Approaching the vehicle from behind, he soon has his answer of "Why in the barn?" The truck bed sat low under the weight of a full bed, with only a simple tarp to keep the contents dry. The gully-washer outside would have laughed at the puny efforts. Thinking, "Real farmers drive real trucks," he stopped to wipe a raindrop off his nose, and when he looked up again, a Sterling Grey Ford F-150 stood where he'd surely seen a Chevy S-10. He shook his head, Man, you gotta stop laying out Seven dust without a respirator. It's done gone to your brain.

The driver's door stood open, a pair of denim-clad legs ending in well-worn western boots protruding. Through the back glass he saw the broad brim of a cream-colored straw hat, as worn-looking as the boots. The man must have heard John's approach, for he turned, and John fell into a pair of sky blue eyes, the corners crinkled with character lines. Man, but I bet he'd look good in a Stetson, and I've always been partial to brown eyes.

One minute a pair of bright blue eyes stared at him, the next, a dark brown, can-paralyze-me-with-a-single-glance gaze glued him to the spot. Where he'd sworn he'd seen a straw hat, a Stetson now sat. A bright grin lit up a clean-shaven face and, convinced he wasn't seeing things, John tried a little test. I like 'em scruffy. An immediate shadow appeared on the cowboy's rugged race, lengthening into an impressive moustache and neatly trimmed beard. Lawdy, I been in the sun too long. Thunder boomed overhead, bringing visions of hovering rain clouds. Oh, yeah, I haven't been in the sun all day.

Tall, dark, and now scruffy cleared his throat and John's heart skipped a beat. While not old, the guy had the weathered appearance of someone who spent a lot of time outdoors… and he was handsome as hell. The two men stared at each other for the space of several heartbeats, frozen in place. Time stood still, the only sounds the bap, bap, bap of raindrops pounding the tin roof, and an image formed in John's head of the stranger spread out on bales in the hayloft upstairs, wearing nothing but the boots and Stetson.

"Let's not get ahead of ourselves now," the stranger said, in a drawl that might not be from Texas, but sounded like it hailed from the south somewhere. The accent sounded kinda familiar, though John couldn't quite place why at the moment.

Wait! He knew what I was thinking? John felt the blush start at his toes and rush up his body like a flash fire, igniting his face clear up to his ears.

"You're cute when you do that," the cowboy said, climbing out of the truck and extending a hand. "I'm Andrew, but most folks call me Andy."

John shook the man's hand, an automatic gesture. The flash fire had barely receded when 220 volts of pure sexual energy jolted through his system via his palm, pressed tightly against the stranger's. Up close and personal, the guy looked even better, like some kind of masculine dream out of the magazines John kept by his bed, only real.

The dogs, no longer in guard mode, approached slowly, wagging their tails and sniffing at Andy's boots. What the hell? Those mutts didn't much care for anyone besides John, why weren't they barking or growling?

"'Cause dogs are a good judge of character," Andy said, releasing John's hand to reach down and scratch Old Blue behind the ears. "And they know I belong here."

"What the fuck? Y… you belong here?"  John's acreage had been in his family for generations. No way did the guy belong there, no matter how good looking or how well he filled out his Wranglers.

"You put the word out that you were looking for some farm help, right?"

"Yeah, but who sent you?"

"A friend of yours."


"Does it matter? I'm a Carolina farm boy, ready and willing to do whatever you want me to." His lopsided grin and arms held out to his sides implied he might be talking about more than just plowing and seeding…. Plowing and seeding the fields, that is.

"Who are you?" John asked. He had a friend in South Carolina, but she'd never mentioned any hunky cowboys. He figured if she knew any, she'd kept them all for herself. 

"I done told you: name's Andy, and I'm here because you need me to be here."

John had always believed that if it sounded too good to be true, then it usually was, especially if "it" changed to suit his wants. John focused on the guy's aged chambray work shirt, willing it to be a torn wife-beater.

"It don't work that way," Andy explained. "You only get what you really, really want, down in here." He splayed his hand over his heart.

A moment later the shirt disappeared altogether and that hand pressed against bare skin. A fine mat of thick, black hair adorned a pair of well-built pecs, the kind earned by hard work rather than pumping iron. A silver hoop adorned a dusky pink nipple. At a single thought from John, dark ink appeared on Andy's wrists, snaking up his arms, over his shoulders, and across his chest, forming an elaborate Celtic design. John had little doubt that the ink extended over the cowboy's broad back too. A slow, lazy smile spread across Andy's face. "Now I think you got the right idea."

"You go to church?" John asked.

"Southern Baptist, born and raised."

"What's your idea of an ideal evening?"

"Well, maybe a walk through the fields, talk about our day, then settle into the kitchen to whip up some super. Together. Afterward we can sit on the porch swing – really close, if you get my meaning."

A joke, it had to be a joke. Perfect guys didn't just fall out of the sky in Texas. "You don't sound like no field hand to me."

Andy's voice softened, bordering on pleading. "Oh, but I am, John, I am. I'm that and so much more. Just give me a chance. I'm everything you could possibly want."

"Prove it."

The rain pattering against the roof matched John's heartbeat as Andy drew slowly closer, brushing his lips every so softly against John's.

"What's that for?" John asked.

"It's your birthday, right? That's your birthday kiss."

"How'd you know it's my birthday?"

"I told you a friend sent me, right?" Andy winked a mischief-filled eye. "Well, that was from Eden, and so am I. She wrote me just for you. But remember, once you get me the way you want me, no more changes. Eden hates rewrites. And everything under that tarp is marked, "Don't open 'til Christmas, so don't any ideas about peeking. However, feel free to unwrap your birthday present any time you're ready."

The glimmer in the cowboy's cocoa-colored eyes hinted at X-rated thoughts. "Anyway, that kiss was from her, this one is from me, and in my character profile, she wrote, 'Andy don't half-do nothin.'" With that he crashed his lips down on John's, stealing John's breath and all rational thought. In the battle of tongues, Andy was winning, until enough of John's brain cells re-fired for conscious thought.

The kiss curled John's toes, shot sparks straight to his groin, and left him breathless and weak-kneed. He would've hit the ground if not for the steel bands of Andy's arm wrapping around him, keeping him upright. "Happy Birthday, farm boy," John's every-wet-dream-come-true said. "Now, what say we go check out that hayloft now?"

Saturday, November 19, 2011

Saturday Snark!

Once again it's time for the Saturday Snark blog hop! This week's snark comes from The Wish. Rich boy Alex is getting put into his place by down-to-earth Paul. Don't forget to click the links below to see more snark from some of your favorite authors.
A quarter of an hour later, Alex stood with his hands on his hips, glaring. "Just what the hell is this?" he thundered.
Smiling sweetly, Paul answered, "This is my car. I told you I'd pull it around, didn't I?"
"This isn't a car, this is a rusted-out piece of shit."
"Yeah, you're probably right. However, it's my piece of shit, and if we're going to make our reservation, you'd best get in it." 
Find it here at Torquere Press: 

Wednesday, November 16, 2011

Enter to Win a Copy of A Lie I Can Live With

In one short week A Lie I Can Live With releases from Torquere Press. It's the third installment of The Match Before Christmas series, and stars Otis, a secondary character in the first two.
With a few extra pounds and a geek reputation, Otis Tucker despairs of ever finding someone to share his life with. When the GLBT dating service matches him with handsome hunk Garret, he thinks it's some kind of joke. But the more he learns of Garret, the more he realizes that even gorgeous people can be taken at face value and that Mr. Perfects come in many different sizes.
Head on over to Stumbling Over Chaos and leave a comment on the A Lie I Can Live With thread to be entered in the drawing for a free ebook copy, to be delivered after the story is published. While you're at it, check out the linkity's, bookity's, and my faves, Misadventures in Stock Photography  and pictures of the stunningly gorgeious black kitties, Chaos and Mayhem, who inspired Toms I and II in The Match Before Christmas and Fanning the Flames. Here's the link:

Monday, November 14, 2011

Coming up this weekend...

On Friday, November 18th, it's Eden Winter's Flashback Friday on the Romance for the Rest of Us blog, where I'll post excerpts and thoughts on my past works. Then on Saturday, November 19, I'm hosting the Torquere Press LiveJournal to talk about my upcoming release, A Lie I Can Live With. I'll also have a drawing to win an ebook copy, to be awarded when the story publishes on November 23, just in time for Thanksgiving.

Come join me!

Saturday, November 12, 2011

A Bit of Silliness About Condoms

I'm not sure if I ever posted this or not, but it's a bit of silliness I wrote in response to a blog post at Reviews by Jessewave's entitled, "A World Without Condoms."

The World Without Condoms

“What’s that?” Billy asked, staring through the glass at a horrifying purple monstrosity.

“I dunno,” his husband Chet replied, turning his head to the side as if viewing from a different angle would make more sense. “Ancient sea creature, maybe?” He tapped the glass with his forefinger, pulling it back immediately when zapped by a low-level current.

“Keep your hands away from the display,” a metallic voice admonished.

Billy scowled. “You can clean ‘em up but you can’t take ‘em anywhere.”

“Sorry,” Chet whimpered, cradling the injured digit to his chest. 

“This isn’t a ball game, it’s a museum. Can’t you behave for one afternoon?”

Sorrowful eyes met Billy’s. “No?”

Billy grinned. “Don’t worry, babe. I like that about you.” He leaned in and kissed Chet’s forehead. “Just no more touching, okay?”

Chet nodded, eyes returning to the object on display. “Alien life form?”

“No, they keep those on the seventh floor. Hmm…” Billy leafed through his museum guide, looking for the right page.

A young couple with a small child stepped up beside them. The boy, who was no older than five, began to shriek, “Monster, Mommy, monster!” hiding behind the woman’s skirts.

“Let’s go, Jim,” she hissed to the tall man with her. “It’s scaring Junior.”

Chet knew just how Junior felt. The longer he stared, the more his own fear grew. The object was about eight inches long, somewhat flesh colored, if said flesh had been deprived of blood for awhile, with a series of nubby protrusions on the top. While Billy studied the book in his hands, Chet circled the pedestal, eyes coming to rest on a brass placard that read, “Condom, circa 2010.” His eyes grew wide and his breathing erratic. “Uhh…Billy?”

“Not now, Chet, I’m reading!”

“You really need to see this, hon,” Chet insisted.

“Oh, all right!” Billy huffed as he came to stand next to Chet. His eyes found the sign.

“That’s a….”


“They used to…”


Billy and Chet turned horrified eyes to each other. “If you ever…”

“Wouldn’t dream of it…”

“I mean…”


Finally, realizing the child had the right idea, they both screamed, “Monster!” and fled to the relative safety of the alien display on the seventh floor.

Frank, the new janitor from Alpha Centauri, yawned and stretched. “Oh, what a lovely nap,” he said, climbing down from the display stand and replacing the soft pliable rubber object that normally rested there. He rubbed up against the glass, shivering at the tingle. Finally, he lifted the edge of the glass, muttering, “Yeah, yeah, yadda yadda,” when the warning voice triggered. Feeling refreshed from his recent slumber, he sauntered off across the polished marble floor. “Hmm…I wonder what I can get up to on the seventh floor…”

Saturday Snark!

Marie Sexton is once again hosting Saturday Snark, a chance for authors to share a little snark from one of their characters. My snark this week is taken from my recent novells, Galen and the Forest Lord. Enjoy!

Two shaggy predators crept closer while the others held back. One of the two, a particularly large example of wolfhood, growled, and Galen imagined it egging the other on, saying, "It's just one puny human! Kill it!"

In fact, the pack's primary female had said, "He doesn't look like a criminal to me. Go check!"

"Me go check?" the second wolf, a much smaller male, whined. "You're the Alpha Bi--"

The larger wolf cut him off with a particularly vicious snarl. "Don't you dare call me that!"

"B...b...but it's the customary title! Passed down through generations."

The she-wolf's long, pointed nose nearly touched the other wolf's, and she grrr'd deep and low. "It may be the customary title, but I swear, if you call me Bitch one more time..."

Monday, November 7, 2011

Feeling Nostalgic

For some reason, tonight I find myself tripping down memory lane, all the way back to high school. I remember my best friends, Laurie, Brenda, Larry, and Donna, and cute boys I crushed on boasting varying degrees of badness: Jimmy, Mike, Andy, Larry, Johnnie, Rickie, most of whom didn't know I existed. Didn't it always seem to be summer back then? And wasn't there always a lake to park beside? I wonder what happened to the folks that live on, forever seventeen in my memories.

I wore hip huggers and wild print shirts with pointed sleeves. EVERYTHNG was a big deal, and I  never seemed to fit in no matter how hard I tried. Ah, teen agnst. Wouldn't do it again if you paid me. Those were the days before I learned that being different was okay, and by far preferable to giving yourself up to confomity.

And in the background you could bet Elton John would be singing, probably via an eight track. Remember those? Can I tax your memory further by mentioning a reel to reel? Anyway, I'd like to share with you my very favorite song from high school. And yes, I'm old.

Friday, November 4, 2011

More Free Reads

Due to my insatiable appetite for books, back in my reader days I usually ran way overbudget on ebooks and I simply loved being handed a free read. Now that I'm an author, I enjoy offering other readers that same gift.

A few days ago the wonderful Cole uploaded What You Can't Live Without as a free read at Goodreads, and he's recently added a few more of my works: The Telling, Night Watch, and Boy Under the Bridge, a side story to novel The Wish (sorry, but The Wish is not included in this giveaway). They're offered in several formats, so simply go to the book's Goodreads page and click on "Download ebook" to select your format. The Telling is a full length novel, the rest of the offered titles are short stories of varying word counts.

The story I wrote for Dreamspinner Press' Halloween Howl, In Shadow, is also a free read, but not in downloadable format. And let's not forget Sweet Dreams, the story I wrote for the Goodread's M/M Romance Group's Hot Summer Days campaign, Don't Read in the Closet, a collection of twenty-four short stories by some of your favorite authors, and some that are bound to be future favorites.

The mother in me demands that you solemnly swear that you are old enough to read and possess such materials in your neck of the woods. That said -- enjoy!

Tuesday, November 1, 2011

A Lie I Can Live With - Part 3 in The Match Before Christmas series

If you're familiar with The Match Before Christmas, and the sequel, Fanning the Flames, then you've met lovable computer nerd Otis. Readers have asked for his story, and I intended it for this year's Torquere Press Charity Sips, benefitting the It Gets Better Project, but sadly, the word count doubled the allowance for a Sip.

The story takes place in November, leading up to Thanksgiving. Here's the tentative blurb:

With a few extra pounds and a geek reputation, Otis Tucker despairs of ever finding someone to share his life with. When the GLBT dating service matches him with handsome hunk Garret, he thinks it's some kind of joke. But the more he learns of Garret, the more he realizes that even gorgeous people can be taken at face value and that Mr. Perfects come in many different sizes.

Look for A Lie I Can Live With on November 23, from Torquere Press. 

In Shadow - Free Read

The Dreamspinner Press Halloween Howl has ended, and my contribution, In Shadow, is no longer available on their site.

I have it posted here, in the hopes you'll enjoy my walk on the spooky side.

Brief Encounters reviewed Summer Boys!

Ruby had this to say about my Torquere Press Getting Better Charity Sip, Summer Boys, written to benefit the It Gets Better Project:

The ending is a really strong point too and left me with a soppy grin on my face, but I don’t want to give spoilers! 
In short then, this is touching tale of a man reconnecting with life as he falls in love again. I’d recommend it to anyone who enjoys a slower paced story with plenty of description. It’s one to linger over and savour.

See full review here.