A plea to you. Yes, you.

Hey, can you do me a favor?

Tomorrow, November 1, my newest book releases. It’s called The Festivus Miracle and it’s a light, sweet holiday story. You can preorder it right now, in fact.

And here’s the thing: I’m donating 100% of my royalties from this book to Doctors Without Borders.  Actually, I donate all my self-published royalties to DWB. This organization does amazing work. And 87% of donated money goes to their programs (rather than, say, salaries or fundraising costs). That’s a very high percentage. It makes me really happy to help support them.

So here’s what I’m asking you: buy The Festivus Miracle. It’s only $1.99. Preorder it now or buy it tomorrow, because if everyone buys at once it’ll rise in the sale rankings. And that will make it more visible to prospective buyers which will, I hope, lead to even more sales. I’d really love to give DWB a healthy donation.

Also, spread the word, please! Tell everyone you know that they must purchase this book or their lives will be incomplete. Tell them they will be entertained and earn good karma. Tell them that it’s a rare chance to obtain 10,000 words of joy plus the satisfaction of doing good, both for under two bucks.

Heck, you could buy a copy for each of your friends and relatives and polish off your holiday shopping quickly and cheaply. Surely Aunt Martha and Cousin Rodney are in need of a little sweet m/m romance in their lives!

Here’s the buy link: Right here.

Here’s the cover:


And the blurb:

It’s finals week during Tony McNeil’s second year in law school, and he’s struggling to keep up. Frankly, he’d rather be cooking. Then he meets first-year student Eddie Cohen-Fernandez, who’s heartsick over missing his family’s annual Festivus celebration. Tony can use his culinary skills to lift Eddie’s spirits, but finding long-term happiness? That just might require a Festivus miracle.

And a teeny tiny tease:

Sure enough, when Tony pulled to a halt in front of Eddie’s building, Eddie was waiting for him, smiling widely even as he hunched in his thin jacket. He cradled a paper bag–wrapped bottle in his arms.

“Hi!” he yelled as he collapsed into the passenger seat. He set the bottle between his feet and held his hands in front of the heating vents. “It’s cold out there!”

It was barely below freezing. Tony didn’t have the heart to tell him how much lower the temps would drop. “I have the heat all the way up.”

“I know. Thanks.”

They chatted briefly about school while Tony drove them home, and although Eddie was as talkative as ever, Tony detected a slight touch of melancholy. “Everything okay?” he asked.

“Yeah. Sorry. I promise not to be a wet blanket. I just got off the phone with Mom a little while ago.”

“Problems at home?”

“Nah. She just misses me. Festivus is a few nights away. Tomorrow she and Dad will erect the pole and—”

“Erect the pole?”

Eddie laughed and poked Tony’s arm. “Ew. No parental-related double entendres, please. It’s an actual metal pole. Well, a shower curtain rod, if you want to be picky. Mom fixed it so it screws into a wooden base and stands upright.”


“Instead of a Christmas tree.”


“It’s how we celebrate.” Eddie’s voice turned a little dreamy. “We have meatloaf and vegan spaghetti for the meal. Nobody in my family can cook worth a damn, but that’s not the point anyway. Afterward, we exchange regifts.”

“Regifts?” Tony loved hearing Eddie go on like this. It made him seem both youthful and exotic.

“You’re not allowed to buy anything. You have to give something you already own. Like, last year one of my sisters—the Wiccan one—gave me a rainbow T-shirt. And I gave one of my nieces my collection of Harry Potter books. It’s fun. And we have feats of strength, and some people try to sing, and then we argue over which sappy holiday movie to watch. We have popcorn. It’s….” His voice trailed away.

“It sounds really nice,” Tony said with complete honesty.

See? You need that, right? Don’t you want to know what happens to Tony and Eddie?

So, please. Buy. Pimp to everyone you know. You need another tease as inspiration? Fine.

Tony had kissed men before. But he’d never really understood what the big deal was. It was just lips and slippery tongues—the real action, as far as he was concerned, was farther south.

But now he got what the fuss was all about.

Eddie threaded his fingers through Tony’s hair, cradling his skull with gentle hands. And Eddie’s mouth against his was soft but insistent, tasting slightly of wine and spices. When they kissed, Eddie stole all the oxygen from Tony’s lungs but gave back a pure heat that spread through Tony’s nerves and veins and made his skin feel too tight.

“Oh,” Tony said when Eddie drew back a bit.

“Oh my God,” Eddie agreed. With his eyes wide, he appeared as startled as Tony felt. “That was—”

“More.” Tony tugged him close again and greedily dove back in.

Thank you!

PS–You have until midnight Pacific time Oct 31 to enter the Fieldingpalooza contests. And tomorrow, November 1, I’ll be posting a new contest with a fun new prize.


Please welcome Grace Duncan!


In a world that’s gone to hell, will you let old fears keep you from the chance at more than just survival?


When Duncan stumbles into a pharmacy in search of something to fix his broken leg, he’s surprised to find someone else there. Like the rest of the post-pandemic world, it appeared empty. Instead, he discovers Mark, a former nurse who walked away from his profession after losing too many patients to the virus. Despite swearing he’d never practice medicine again, Mark patches Duncan up over Duncan’s protests. He even finds an abandoned house in the tiny town, and they settle in until Duncan heals enough to look out for himself. Much to the chagrin of both, they find themselves caring for each other.

Duncan welcomes it, thrilled at finding someone he can trust. However, he’s well aware of the shadows in Mark’s eyes and understands Mark’s reticence as he learns the story. But as he’s starting to do things for himself again, Duncan realizes he doesn’t want Mark to leave. He’s not sure if can get Mark to let go of his fears so they can stay together and love. But Duncan’s damned sure going to try.

Buy link: http://www.dreamspinnerpress.com/store/product_info.php?products_id=5534
Amazon: http://www.amazon.com/Healing-Pandemus-Chronicles-Book-2-ebook/dp/B00OWKJS84/ref=la_B00BCMBWY8_1_6?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1414433407&sr=1-6
AllRomance eBooks: https://www.allromanceebooks.com/product-healing-1656462-145.html



He should have known better. Under normal circumstances, it was a stupid move, but right here, right now, “stupid” didn’t begin to cover it.

Duncan glared at his leg for another moment, then leaned his head back against the wall. He needed to keep moving. It hurt like hell, but he had to keep going. It wasn’t going to get better on its own. The gash needed to be cleaned and bandaged, and even if the break wasn’t bad, it should at least be braced. And it wasn’t like he could call an ambulance. Or even go into an emergency room.

Well, he supposed he could go into an emergency room, if he was in the city. But like a lot of other people, he avoided the cities whenever possible. And when it wasn’t, he stayed as far on the edge as he could. But even there, it was a dangerous risk. As corrupt as the cities were now, the price of anything was higher than most could pay. He’d heard rumors that, in some of the worst cities, people simply got shot if they couldn’t pay what the thugs in power wanted. It was all rumor, but rumor he wasn’t about to ignore.

So he did his damnedest to stay away.

He’d been stupid to jump off the ledge. Even at only a couple of feet higher than he was tall, the risk hadn’t been worth it. He’d have thought, after nearly three years, he’d learned how to be more careful and not take those kinds of risks. It wasn’t the first time he’d fallen and hurt himself—though, thankfully, the last one hadn’t involved a broken bone. Maybe it should have; he might have learned his lesson then.

“Really fucking stupid, Dun.”

Duncan steeled himself and pulled to his feet, grimacing when the sharp pain shot up his ankle and through his leg. “Fuck,” he muttered, breathing hard through his nose. When he finally focused past the pain, he looked up and noted the position of the sun, the only real indication he had for the time, and figured he had another good hour or two of light. If he was right about where he was, he wouldn’t need all of it. He tucked the stick he’d found under his arm, grimaced when it dug into the soft flesh, but then leaned on it and hobbled along again.


Grace’s Bio:

Grace Duncan grew up with a wild imagination. She told stories from an early age – many of which got her into trouble. Eventually, she learned to channel that imagination into less troublesome areas, including fanfiction, which is what has led her to writing male/male erotica.

A gypsy in her own right, Grace has lived all over the United States. She has currently set up camp in East Texas with her husband and children – both the human and furry kind.

As one of those rare creatures who loves research, Grace can get lost for hours on the internet, reading up on any number of strange and different topics. She can also be found writing fanfiction, reading fantasy, crime, suspense, romance and other erotica or even dabbling in art.

Grace’s website: http://www.grace-duncan.com
Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/GraceRDuncan2
Twitter: @GraceRDuncan


Enter to win an Amazon.com $25 gift card!

Rafflecopter Giveaway:

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Don’t forget to follow the tour for more chances to win! Every comment on the tour is another entry into the Rafflecopter grand prize giveaway! Thanks for stopping by! healingbanner copy750

A Fair Enough Trade– free short story!

trade cover

A Fair Enough Trade

By Kim Fielding

Even after Aygun counted the coins for the fifth time, only eight remained. Not nearly enough to pay for another night’s lodging, but that was of little consequence. What troubled him more was that there weren’t sufficient coins to get him drunk enough to pass out.

But he’d make a damned good attempt at it anyway.

He pushed the coins across the scarred wooden bar. “Whatever this’ll buy the most of.”

The innkeeper lifted a pale eyebrow. He was handsome for a landman, not as solidly built as most of them, but with a sinewy strength to his lean frame. And his eyes were as blue and deep as a summer sky. “I’ve got some nasty rotgut, but it’ll make you sick.”

“I don’t care.” Aygun was already sick.

“All right,” said the innkeeper with a shrug. He turned around and nearly crawled into a cabinet—giving Aygun a view of his very nice ass—before emerging with a dusty brown bottle in his hand. He poured a handswidth of cloudy liquid into a glass and waited, as if he doubted Aygun would really drink it.

But Aygun did. It was terrible stuff, like swilling burning sewage water, but he took a large swallow. He couldn’t down it all in one go, though, so he set the glass on the bar while he waited to see if he was going to lose his stomach lining.

The innkeeper still stared at him. “Don’t usually get wind people in here. Especially ones who want cheap liquor. Isn’t it dangerous to fly when you’re drunk?”

“Yes. But I’m not a wind person anymore.” Aygun had another caustic swallow before he unfurled his wings. The left one spread beautifully, its pewter feathers shining even indoors. But the right—the right one ended at the first joint, where the scarred skin was still red and raw-looking.

The innkeeper barked a noisy laugh.

Aygun would have fought him for that, would have tried to beat him bloody. He might even have succeeded, because this landman wasn’t much bigger than he was. But a fight would have meant he cared; and he didn’t care about anything but getting drunk. He gritted his teeth, folded his wings, and looked away instead.

As a result, he didn’t actually see the innkeeper come walking around the bar, although Aygun couldn’t miss the odd shuffle-thunk of his tread. The innkeeper stopped behind him. Aygun felt the man’s gaze burning at his back. Maybe the bastard wanted another look at the wound.

Aygun whirled around with a snarl. But his angry words died on his lips when he saw that the innkeeper had hitched up one of his trouser cuffs to reveal a wooden stump where his lower leg ought to be. Aygun stared at it for several minutes. The wood was well-worn, covered in grooves and nicks. It hadn’t been fashioned in any semblance of human flesh and ended with a broad flat block in place of a foot.

When Aygun looked up, the innkeeper was smiling slightly.

“It’s not the same,” Aygun said after a moment. “You can still walk. I am—I was a wind person. Flying was what I was.” The words hurt his throat.

“And I was a stevedore. Now I can barely carry my own weight, let alone crates and parcels.” He thumped his wooden foot heavily on the floor, then spread his arms to indicate the entire inn. “I adjusted.”

He made it sound so simple, like discarding old clothes. But he probably had friends and family to support him as he found his new life. He probably had—well, more than eight coins. And now Aygun didn’t even have that.

The innkeeper was still staring at him. Aygun twisted back around to face the bar and his mostly empty glass. He heard the man clomp away to the opposite end of the room and have a quiet conversation with the only other customers, a pair of middle-aged landwomen. A minute or two after that, the door to the inn opened with a creak and then shut firmly. It sounded as if a lock engaged.

The innkeeper limped back behind his bar. He held a hand out across the wood. “Name’s Tural,” he said.

Wind people did not shake hands—they had other methods of greeting one another. But now those methods were impossible for Aygun. He shook Tural’s hand. “Aygun.”

Tural held on slightly longer than Aygun thought was customary. Then he grabbed the glass with the remainder of the foul liquid and poured it in a waste bucket.

“Hey!” Aygun protested. “I paid—”

“I know. Have this instead.” Tural poured something from a green bottle, and Aygun took a cautious sip. It was citrusy and spicy, and it warmed his belly instead of burning it.

Seemingly satisfied with Aygun’s reaction, Tural grinned. “How about some nice salmon fillets? You guys eat fish, right? I was going to fry them up for myself for dinner, but I have enough for two.”

Aygun hoped Tural didn’t hear his stomach growl. “I can’t— I don’t have any more money.”

“The inn is closed now.” Tural waved in the direction of the door. “Which means you’re now officially my guest instead of my customer, and that means you don’t pay”. As an employee you can check here as it allows employees to communicate effortlessly with co-workers, customers, and business partners no matter where they are or what device they use

“Why would you do that for me?” Aygun asked, eyes narrowed.

“My place. I do what I want. When I was a stevedore? I had bosses who told me what to do all day. Carry this. Put that there. Even told me when I was allowed to piss. But now that I’m a one-legged innkeeper, I get to make all the choices. And if I want to close down the place and offer dinner to a handsome wind person, well, that’s what I’ll do. Lost my leg, gained my freedom. A fair enough trade.” He had dimples when he smiled, and deep crinkles at the corners of his eyes.

Aygun had no reason to trust this landman. On the other hand, he had nothing left to lose. And he was hungry and lonely and just so goddamned tired. “Salmon sounds good,” he said.

Grinning widely, Tural grabbed the green bottle. “Follow me.” He walked slowly, his gait uneven and painful-looking. But his smile hadn’t dimmed by the time he led Aygun through a door and into what must have been his private apartment. It was really just a single room, crowded with old furniture and ragged books and piles of clothing.

“I’m not much of a housekeeper, I’m afraid,” Tural said cheerfully. He waved Aygun to a slightly rickety chair, and hummed quietly to himself as he cooked the fish at the fireplace in the corner. He had some difficulty carrying two overflowing plates to the table, but he managed it with a determined grimace.

The fish was very good. Aygun ate far more than his share, but Tural only smiled and transferred food from his plate to Aygun’s. They drank more of the liquor from the green bottle, and Tural told funny stories about people who’d come to his inn. Aygun was mesmerized by Tural’s sparkling blue eyes. A man could fly in those eyes.

After a while, Aygun realized he no longer cared about getting drunk.

And when they finished their meal and Tural undressed, and his pale skin looked golden in the waning firelight, Aygun remembered that while his wing was destroyed, other parts of his body were quite operable.

Tural’s bed was soft as feathers and his embrace was warm. His mouth could do wicked, wonderful things. He laughed often, as if Aygun delighted him. And his missing leg wasn’t any more of a hindrance to lovemaking than was Aygun’s mangled wing.

“Stay,” Tural whispered into his ear as the sweat cooled on their bodies. “I could use the help. I could…. I’d like you to stay.” He stroked Aygun’s feathers softly—the ones on the ruined wing.

Aygun settled his hand on Tural’s smooth, muscular ass. He’d never thought of becoming an innkeeper, or an innkeeper’s mate. But why not? Tural seemed happy enough. And Aygun would no longer need to worry about the rigid rules of his flock, nor the scorn he used to receive when he didn’t fly like everyone else. Perhaps he’d lost the sky but gained his freedom. Gained a beautiful landman too.

A fair enough trade, he thought as he smiled against Tural’s shoulder.

Did you enjoy this story? Please leave me a comment to let me know!



I’ve just spent a few wonderful days at GayRomLit 2014 in Chicago. I saw lots of old friends and met lots of new friends too. I danced for the first time since my high school prom (I’m sincerely hoping there’s no video of that). I signed books, fangirled over some of my favorite authors, and generally had a good time.

If you’ve never considered going to GRL, you should. It’ll be in San Diego next year. You’ve never met a more welcoming, fun group of people.

A few photos!

032My table at the book signing! I gave away 150 uniducks.

038 The lovely Lex Chase does an awesome reading from her book Americana Fairy Tale.

046 B.G. Thomas did an amazing reading from one of his books.

047 And this is Shira Anthony, who used to be an opera singer, and who delighted the crowd by singing for us.

049 There was karaoke too. Venona Keyes and Lane Hayes totally owned “I Love Rock ‘n’ Roll.”

052 This was the great panel on historicals: Jordan L. Hawk, Charlie Cochet, and Kate MacMurray.

055 Charlie Cochet. Yes, she always looks this good.

057 Lex Chase.

058 Poppy Dennison.

059 Jessica Freely.

062 Look! My hair coordinates with Mary Calmes!

066 Posy Roberts and Charlie Cochet.

067 Shira Anthony, B.G. Thomas, and Venona Keyes (who’s co-writing a book with me right now!!)

063 Chicago pizza, of course.

045 These guys were very sweet. And–darn!!–it took 6 tries to get this photo. Hey, my hair coordinates with the guy on the right, too.

079 This afternoon I went downtown and caught the fantastic Bowie exhibit at the Museum of Contemporary Art. I’ve been crushing on Bowie since I was 12, so this was great.

081 And I had a wonderful dinner at BoHo. Tasted as good as it looks.

Please welcome Eric Gober!

Thank you, Kim, for having me as a guest on your blog today. I’d like to talk a little about what inspired “Out of Order,” my story in Stranded that appears with your awesome story “Standby.” Also, I’d like to tell readers about my debut novel, Secrets of the Other Side.


“Out of Order”

Twenty-five years ago today at 5:04 p.m., I was driving on an East Bay freeway speeding toward San Francisco, when the radio station I was listening to mysteriously went off the air. I pressed the radio’s scan button and discovered not one station was broadcasting. That was my only clue that something was wrong. In my speeding car I did not feel the violent shaking. I had no idea a terrible earthquake was pancaking a double-deck freeway only a few miles ahead, collapsing the Bay Bridge and old Victorians in San Francisco’s Marina, and rocking Candlestick Park moments before the Oakland A’s were to battle the San Francisco Giants in a World Series game.

Events in the Bay Area on October 17, 1989, are etched in my memory forever—toppled buildings, houses on fire, mighty infrastructure in ruins, and rescuers searching amid rubble for survivors. There was no phone service, train service, or flights in or out of the region. People were left stranded.

In my story “Out of Order” in Wayward Ink Publishing’s new anthology Stranded, Trent has flown to the Bay Area from Phoenix for a job interview on that fateful day. High up in a Financial District skyscraper, he stumbles upon Rob, an old crush who mysteriously vanished from his life and resettled in Oakland years ago. Little does Trent know he’s about to be broadsided. In a moment, Rob will make a startling confession, old feelings for him will reignite, and San Francisco’s worst disaster in eight decades will erupt around him. Even if he and Rob survive the deadly temblor, the nerve-racking aftershocks, and being stranded for the night in the chaotic, blacked-out city, Trent is not sure his heart will survive when he has to return home and leave Rob behind.


Buy Links:


Wayward Ink Publishing:



Amazon US:




Amazon UK:



Amazon Canada:



Amazon Germany:



Secrets of the Other Side

I’m very excited to announce that my debut novel was a big winner in this year’s Reader Views literary contest. The book took first place in the LGBT category, won the award for best book by a writer from the Pacific region, and was selected from all this year’s fiction entries as Best Fiction Book of the Year.

The novel is set in Las Vegas in the eighties and nineties and chronicles the adventures of Neil Ostwinkle. Like his mom Ellen, Neil always gives his heart to guys who find unique ways to break it. When he meets Zach, he hopes the sexy gamer-geek will break his run of bad luck. But he’s not too sure that’s gonna happen the night they decide to hit lovers’ lane.




THE CITY ABRUBPTLY ended at the base of Sunrise Mountain, leaving us surrounded by darkness as we drove. After we passed several unlit cars parked on the highway’s wide shoulder, Zach made a U-turn. In the valley below, glowing palaces rose from a glittering kingdom of lights.

He pulled over and cut the engine.

“I feel like I’m back in high school,” I said. “Are we really going to do this?”

“I’ll be your quarterback if you’ll be my cheerleader,” he said, climbing into the back.

He wasn’t lying. His hands were underneath my tee shirt soon as my butt touched the back seat. He’d have been unclasping my bra and tossing it on the floorboard if I were his cheer girl.

“Give me a D!…Give me an I!…Give me a C!—”

“You little slut,” he said, fingering my nipples.

“Give me an E, you presumptuous rake!”

He collapsed in my arms in laughter. I peeled off his shirt, tore off mine, and wrestled him to his back. We locked lips, thrilled to be a couple of bad boys breaking the rules. I was going after the buttons on his jeans when a flashlight beam shined on our naked torsos.


Buy Links:


Amazon US:



Amazon UK:



Amazon Canada:



Amazon Germany:



Author Bio

In addition to penning Secrets of the Other Side and “Out of Order” for Stranded, I’ve written stories for various publications, including First Time for Everything and Best Gay Romance 2014. I earned an MFA in creative writing from Wichita State University.

When not writing, I’m usually curled up with a good book, seeking inspiration from the big screen, or hanging with great friends. I’m an avid runner and enjoy trail running and half marathons.

I grew up in Las Vegas and now make my home in Los Angeles, where I’m at work on a new novel.


Author Contacts:

Website: www.ericgober.com.

Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/GoberEric

Twitter: https://twitter.com/GoberEric

Goodreads: http://www.goodreads.com/author/show/6964936.Eric_Gober


Please welcome A. Morell!

James is at the end of a long crusade for vengeance against the vampire clan that destroyed everything he held dear. He has Ren, the final and most dangerous of them all, cornered at last in London. But victory remains just out of reach when Ren sets a feral vampire on James and makes his escape. With no other leads, James is forced to take in the feral until he can use its connection to its sire to track down Ren. But in caring for the vampire, James sees they might not all be the monsters he thought them to be. Faced with an ugly truth, his quest for revenge becomes a war for retribution, and the discovery of what it truly means to be human.

Puncture Wounds
by A. Morell


Happy release day! It’s been a fun ride getting the story to this point, and at long last it’s available to all. Join James on his journey, and help him see it through to the bitter end. Congrats to all my winners, enjoy your free copies! Read on for an excerpt and links to some exclusive sneak peeks into the story:

James fumbled to regain control, and it took a second to realize that it wasn’t teeth he felt now—it was a soft and damp tongue. The almost constant rumbling from deep in the creature’s chest had morphed at some point, from warning growls to what sounded suspiciously like a purr. James felt his skin crawl and tore himself away, stumbling a bit when he stood too fast.

He was reeling. Everything from the past twenty-four hours suddenly came crashing down around him at once. In so short a time, he’d had the last of his sworn enemies in the palm of his hand, let him escape, and brought a feral monster into his own house. And he’d fed it.

James fumbled his way into the kitchen, eying the sink as he felt his stomach threaten to heave. He pushed himself to the fridge, grabbing a nutrition drink and forcing its contents down his throat along with the bile. He reminded himself that he needed it to help his blood recover, and this was all according to plan—take in the feral and get it sane enough to track the one who’d made it.

He braced himself against the counter with both arms, repeating the plan in his head until the moment passed.

He was too busy to notice at first, but something was wrong—nothing hurt. He looked back down at his arm.

It had completely healed.

More on Puncture Wounds:

Start the first chapter | Behind-the-scenes glimpse | Have a taste | A look at the characters

About A. Morell:
A. Morell spent ten years writing silly things for herself, going through work, school, and a failed career path in the culinary arts before deciding it was time to submit to a publisher. She still writes silly things for herself, but now some of them get pretty-looking covers. She has never looked back.

Hailing from the San Francisco Bay Area, she greatly enjoys food, baseball, shopping, tattoos, karaoke, and old bookstores. She is averse to spiders, zombies, over-used words, tardiness, inclement weather, and the misquotation of movie lines and lyrics. Her dream is to retire to Hawaii immediately. She has one cat.

For more A. Morell, stop by the blog or twitter, or contact directly at sans.morale@gmail.com.


Stranded is a new anthology that just came out from Wayward Ink Publishing. Here’s the book blurb:



• (of a boat, sailor, or sea creature) left aground on a shore.
“a stranded whale”

• left without the means to move from somewhere.
“he offers a lift to a stranded commuter”


The boys in this collection of short stories have most definitely been left STRANDED!

They’ve been shipwrecked and abandoned.

Marooned and cast away.

And left helpless and high and dry.

But you should never underestimate the tenacity of the human heart…


My story is called “Standby,” and poor Tom is stranded in an airport when he misses his connection. I travel frequently, so I’ve been in his shoes. But here’s a photo from a happier trip I took last year:


I was the only passenger on this flight. It was a small plane and a short flight, but I was the sole passenger. It was so fun! The flight attendant and I had a great chat. She still had to do the safety stuff over the PA system–FAA regulations–and this time I had to listen.

I’m flying tomorrow. Let’s hope for no mishaps–or at least good outcomes if mishaps occur!

You can buy Stranded:

at Amazon

at Wayward Ink Publishing

Please welcome Andrew Q. Gordon!


A Closed Door, by Andrew Q. Gordon

Book Blurb:

Outted at thirteen, Orin Merritt left home after high school hoping to escape the hell his life had become. Ten years later when a tornado destroys his childhood home and kills his parents, Orin finds himself in an entirely new nightmare. One he can’t run away from.

Blaming himself for failing the two people who always loved and supported him, he returns home and confronts his past in the person of his one-time best friend, Thomas Kennett.  Thomas not only rejected him when Orin came out, he led the group that tormented Orin into leaving.

As he struggles to deal with his grief, Orin also labors to fulfill the pledge he made to his parents before their death.  In the process, Orin learns that sometimes when you go away to find yourself, you leave the answers you’re looking for behind.

Cover Artist: Lily Velden and Jay Aheer

Publisher: Wayward Ink Publishing.


Buy Links:

Wayward Ink Publishing.

Amazon US:

Amazon Australia:

Amazon UK:

Amazon DE:

Amazon Canada:
A Closed Door Cover
Book Excerpt:

“Orin, I won’t.” Thomas stood a bit straighter and his eyes lost the sad, pleading shine. “I won’t hurt you again.”

“You can’t promise that. Things happen.” Orin watched as his words dragged Thomas back from the brink of hope.

“If you truly believe that, then there’s nothing I can do. You have to believe there’s a chance or else I can’t prove it.”

“That’s not what I’m telling you.” He locked his gaze on Thomas’s. “If I say yes, I’ll have to take down the walls I surrounded my heart with to keep it safe. Once it’s gone, I won’t be able bring it back if I get hurt. Not now.

“So what I’m saying is, think about what you’re asking me to risk. If you really love me, ask yourself if are you willing to risk what will happen to me if you can’t keep your promise.”

He knew how unfair he’d been, but self-preservation had been a skill he’d honed over the past fifteen years. He needed Thomas to know just how serious the repercussion could be for his actions.

“Orin, I . . . I . . . how . . .?” Their faces were inches apart, and Thomas moved in for another kiss.

This felt different than the first—less urgent, but no less intense. Orin trembled at the leap he was about to take. When they stepped back, Thomas rubbed his thumb across Orin’s cheek.

“I do love you, Orin. More than I can say. So much, that I’m not willing to risk what will happen if I fail you again. I don’t have that right.”

Thomas’s lips quivered and the tears welled at the bottom of his eyes. He kissed Orin’s forehead gently.

“Good-bye, Orin. Please be happy.” Without looking back, Thomas walked to the front door, opened it, and walked away.

Author Bio:

Andrew Q. Gordon wrote his first story back when yellow legal pads, ball point pens were common and a Smith Corona correctable typewriter was considered high tech. Adapting with technology, he now takes his MacBook somewhere quiet when he wants to write.

He currently lives in the Washington, D.C. area with his partner of eighteen years, their young daughter and dog. In addition to dodging some very self-important D.C. ‘insiders’, Andrew uses his commute to catch up on his reading. When not working or writing, he enjoys soccer, high fantasy, baseball and seeing how much coffee he can drink in a day.

Author Contacts:

Website: www.andrewqgordon.com,

Facebook: www.facebook.com/andrewqugordon,

Twitter: @andrewqgordon,

Email: andrewqgordon@gmail.com

Other Books:

The Last Grand Master: (Champion of the Gods – Book 1);



Ashes of Life:



Please welcome Brynn Stein!

Blog Tour for Through the Years


Thanks Kim, for hosting me today. This is the sixth stop on blog tour for Through the Years.

I wanted to talk a little about juggling so many characters. This book contains by far the most characters that I’ve ever worked with at one time. Since it encompasses fifty years, there are friends of the two main characters, spouses of those friends, as well as Edward’s wife. Kids and grandkids, in-laws.

It was actually kind of hard to keep track of when I was writing it. I literally had to make a family tree to keep everyone straight, not to mention to try to figure out how old everyone was at any given time.

Since it was so much work for me to keep straight, I was really afraid that it would be hard for my readers too. I had numerous friends and family read over it before I submitted it, to make sure that everything was easier to keep track of as a reader than it had been as a writer.

I was told it was. And my absolutely wonderful editors at Dreamspinner didn’t have any problems, so I guess I managed it better than I was afraid I was going to be able to.

It was still a really different problem to have.

Always before, I’ve had a small cast of important characters with perhaps some minor characters thrown in. But in this story, just about everyone is important. We need to track Edward’s kids, of course, and the fact that he has a wife for a while is very important. But, because of the dynamic of Edward and Gene and three other friends from college, they all are intricately involved in each other’s lives, so all of their kids and spouses are really important too.

It was fun to write so many characters, even if I did worry about it for a while. I think it helps draw the reader in…make them feel like family. That’s what several people who have read it have said, anyway.

What about you writers? Have you had a book with what seems like a million important characters? How did you handle them all? Did you have to make some kind of chart or other visual aid to help when you were writing?

And readers, what do you think about books with a lot of characters? Love it? Hate it? Somewhere in between?

Comment below to be entered into the raffle.


Here’s how the raffle works:


I’ve listed the tour stops below and have given either the link to the blog in general or to my post specifically. Feel free to stop by as many as you want. For each stop that you comment on, you will receive one entry to the giveaway. I’ll check all the stops numerous times throughout the tour and will draw five winners on Thanksgiving Day, so even if you come in late to the tour, you can go back through the list and comment on past stops.

I’m giving away five prizes. 1) a signed paperback copy of Through the Years; 2 and 3) electronic copies of Through the Years, 4) your choice of either a signed paperback copy or an audiobook of Living Again (the audiobook won’t be available until December), and 5) an electronic copy of Haunted.


Blog Tour Stops for Through the Years

Blog Stop Date Blog Owner Blog Address
1 October 6 Anne Barwell http://annebarwell.wordpress.com
2 October 7 Grace Duncan http://www.grace-duncan.com/
3 October 8 Jessica Skye Davies http://jessicaskyedavies.blogspot.com
4 October 9 Shira Anthony www.shiraanthony.com
5 October 10 Emma Tett http://emmy-j.blogspot.co.uk
6 October 11 Kim Fieldings http://kfieldingwrites.com/
7 October 12 Bike Books Reviews bikebookreviews.blogspot.com
8 October 13 Tempest O’Riley http://tempesteoriley.com
9 October 14 Sean Michael http://seanmichaelwrites.blogspot.ca/
10 October 15 Allison Cassatta Allisoncassatta.blogspot.com
11 October 16 Jana Denardo http://jana-denardo.livejournal.com/
12 October 17 Louise Lyons http://louiselyonsauthor.wordpress.com
13 October 18 PD Singer http://pdsinger.com
14 October 20 Shae Connor http://shaeconnorwrites.com
15 October 21 Suki Fleet http://sukifleet.wordpress.com
16 October 27 Charlie Cochet http://purpleroseteahouse.charliecochet.com
17 October 28 Elizabeth Noble http://www.elizabeth-noble.com/my-blog
18 October 29 Tara Lain http://taralain.com
19 October 31 Sophie Bonaste http://sophiebonaste.blogspot.com
20 November 4 Kit Moss http://kitmossreviews.blogspot.com
21 November 10 Lane Hayes lanehayes.wordpress.com
22 November 13 Mike Rupured http://rupured.com


Thanks again Kim, for letting me stop by today.




Blurb for Through the Years

Edward and Gene were instantly drawn to each other when they met at college in Maryland. Fast friends, they developed a “closer than brothers” relationship. But then Edward began to feel more for Gene. In 1967, those kind of feelings would not be tolerated. Not even by Edward himself.

Gene always thought he was asexual. He had never been attracted to anyone… until he met Edward. He dreamed of Edward as more than a friend throughout college, but he knew Edward would not welcome that kind of attention. So Gene wasn’t surprised when Edward reacted badly to a drunken kiss just before Edward’s graduation. He was surprised when Edward moved to Florida and had little to do with him for years afterward.

When fate finally brings them back together, Edward is married and has a little girl. Gene gladly accepts the role of “Uncle Gene,” happy to have Edward in his life in any capacity. Together, they face all the trials and tribulations life throws at them, including the death of Edward’s wife, and as each grows and matures, their life views change. The relationship they’ve secretly wanted all along is closer than ever, and if Edward can break free from his homophobic upbringing and admit his feelings for Gene, there might still be a chance for them to share their lives in the way they both desire.

A Bittersweet Dreams title: It’s an unfortunate truth: love doesn’t always conquer all. Regardless of its strength, sometimes fate intervenes, tragedy strikes, or forces conspire against it. These stories of romance do not offer a traditional happy ending, but the strong and enduring love will still touch your heart and maybe move you to tears.



Brynn Stein has always loved to write. Fan fiction, original fiction, whatever. While Brynn wrote in numerous genres – everything from mystery, to contemporary, to supernatural – she had always tended toward strong male characters. And then she discovered ‘slash’, male/male romance, and all those strong male characters were finally allowed to express their love for one another. It seems that there are always at least two characters clamoring to tell Brynn their story.

Brynn lives in Virginia with one of her two two-legged children, and two four-legged ones. Her supportive family encourages her writing and provides a sounding board for fledgling stories. When she isn’t writing, Brynn teaches children with special needs. In free time, when such a thing exists, she reads anything she can get her hands on, and haunts bookstores. She draws and paints, and enjoys the outdoors—especially if she can get to the beach—and is always thinking about her next story.

Please feel free to contact Brynn at any of the following:

https://twitter.com/BrynnStein http://brynnstein2.wordpress.com https://www.facebook.com/



New Releases!

October 10 is a very special day for my new releases.

Exactly 15 years ago today, this was my new release:


9 months in the draft stage. She’s been in editing ever since.


When she was 2, she insisted on wearing those Snow White shoes everywhere. And this my is my first release today (please ignore the very ratty couch. Also, the kid on the left is a newer edition):

006 010

She’s a few inches taller than me and has way more attitude. She’s a great kid.

So today would be special to me anyway. (And hey, shouldn’t I be the one getting cake and presents? Twelve hours of back labor say yes.) But to top things off I have two new books out today!

One of them is Bone Dry, the third in the Bones series. If you’ve read the first two, I hope you’re excited to read more about Dylan and Chris’s strange little farm. This time we’ll pay particular attention to their friend, Ery Phillips. If you haven’t read the rest of the series, you can jump in now and you’ll do fine.

BoneDry_postcard_front_DSP Bone Dry is available now at Dreamspinner, Amazon, ARe, and everywhere else.







In addition, my short story “Standby” comes out today in the Stranded anthology. This story has a touch of magical realism and takes place in an airport. I’ve always felt that if there’s such a thing as purgatory, it’s very much like an airport.

STRANDED-Final Cover Stranded is available at Wayward Ink Press, Amazon, and all the usual suspects.







A new book or two might not be quite as exciting as a new baby, but there’s less pain involved.

I hope you’ll join me in celebrating this special day!

Also, don’t forget the Fieldingpalooza blog tour and contests, going on right now!