Leta

I thought I’d go ahead and do a fast blog post about my favorite reads of 2022. You can see where I took on my Pink Cover Challenge, because suddenly all (but a few) covers are pink. Basically, I have challenged myself to read my backlist of books in cover-color order. This allows me the diversity of topic I like, while also making me get through that backlist! (But it sort of backfired, because I started buying NEW pink cover books? So, yeah, I’m gonna ban myself from that moving forward, so I can eventually move on to the next color!)

I read a total of 57 books last year, and these are most of the 5 star reads. I had a few more of those, but decided not to share them here since I don’t know that I recommend them entirely? I just really liked them personally.

5 stars. Adored it. 

Anyone who’s ever written or read fanfic (and many who haven’t) will absolutely love Total Creative Control. The utter delight that filled me again and again while reading this book…indescribable. 

It has many of the things I love: 

1) Temperamental bastard falls for cinnamon roll but doesn’t even know it until he’s made a shambles of it all. 

2) Jealousy (I know it’s not PC to love jealousy, but I DO OKAY? My id adores it. Eats it up like the best cake ever. Not the abusive kind of jealousy, though many say it’s all abusive, but the wait-I-might-lose-this-person-and-maybe-I-hate-that kind.) 

3) Genuine emotional and environmental obstacles to their love. 

Something I loved but wasn’t sure about going in is the presentation of fans and fandom. Most of the time in books that makes me cringe because either the rep is wrong, or it’s…really wrong. But this gets it absolutely right. I also loved reading the defense of fans, fanart, and fanfiction. Swoony-worthy in and of itself. 

I admit that Lewis is a damaged handful, and Aaron could have an easier relationship with someone else, but…here’s the thing, he doesn’t WANT someone else. *swoon swoon swoon* I love that. I think you’ll love it too. Go buy it!

Blue by LE Delano, is one of my favorites of the year. There was something very old skool Young Adult about it, while also very much taking place in the present time. The issues were, in my opinion, well-thought out and addressed, and I appreciated the nuances of it. 

This is not a queer book in any way. It addresses the collateral damage that happens in any tragic event–in this case, a drunk driving accident. The teens were all very believably teenagers: selfish and selfless by turns. I found myself emotionally invested in all of them, even if I wanted to shake them from time to time.

Recommended to fans of Young Adult Contemporary fiction, especially, and for libraries as well. Loved this one and do recommend it if you like to read outside of the m/m or LGBT boxes.  As you can see, it’s won a lot of awards this year:

2021 SPARK Award Winner – Society of Children’s Book Writers and Illustrators (SCBWI)
2021-22 Reader Views Reviewers Choice Gold Medal YA Fiction
2021-22 Reader Views Kids Teen/YA Book of the Year
2021-22 Reader Views Reviewers Choice Grand Prize In Fiction – Bronze Award Winner
2021 NYC Big Book Award Distinguished Favorite in Young Adult Fiction
2022 Independent Press Award Distinguished Favorite – Teen

For what it’s worth, I credit this graphic novel series with waking Peter up from his long slumber to demand his final book. If you’ve read the ’90s Coming of Age books and this series, you’ll know there are more than a few similarities in storyline, and, wow, Peter was frustrated by that. He showed up for the first time in years, irritated and angry, wanting to know why Charlie got his story told but he didn’t. To which I replied, “Then tell me your story! I’ve been waiting for years now!” And, guess what? HE DID. So expect that this spring. But back to this book…

I picked up Heartstopper for my kid last spring and decided I needed to read it asap when I saw the Netflix trailer for the adaptation. (Which was also fantastic, by the way!)  

What can I say about this Graphic Novel/web comic? It’s so fluffy, feel-good, indulgent, sweet, soft, and wonderful. It’s got some hurt comfort and some disordered eating in it, and yet was incredibly gentle on the soul. Highly recommend!

For those who don’t want to buy all or any of the books at this time, you can read the entirety of it on the WEBTOON app. I read everything after Book 1 there because, well, money, y’all. 

Sweet Tooth by Tim Anderson, was one of my favorites of 2022. It’s a memoir written by a GenX gay diabetic, and it’s the most GenX thing I’ve read in a very long time. I genuinely don’t know how this book would be received by someone who didn’t live through this time, but, for me, it was a dip into nostalgia from my teen and college years. 

I actually bought this book ages ago as research for Will’s diabetes in Will & Patrick Wake Up Married, but I never got around to reading it (obviously), and instead came across an amazing beta reader (Jenn) who helped me with Will’s diabetes and the portrayal of it. I admit that now I wish I had read Sweet Tooth before writing Will, not because it really changed anything about the presentation of his illness, but because Tim’s descriptions of his low sugar episodes really brings home what those feel like from the inside out. Fascinating stuff. 

WARNING for two uses of the r-slur which I would hope could be edited out if this ever receives a second edition. The word was often used in this way during the GenX years, sadly, and I see how they got into this memoir, but at this point it would be good to have them removed. 

Recommended for GenX folks especially. Nostalgic and funny. 

The Book of Ivy turned out to be a duology with a cliffy, and I read them back-to-back. The skinny on these books: Young Adult, m/f, dystopian, arranged marriage between 16yos (there is eventually on page “sex” but it’s like that YA sex where you know what’s going on, but hazily.) 

Basically, I loved these books and would LOVE to see a streaming service single season series of them. (No movies. A limited series would be so much better.) 

I don’t have a lot to say about the books because I really enjoyed them. They’re sort of my cuppa in terms of what I like to spend my downtime reading. I did love the romance. The stakes were fantastically high. The author didn’t hold back during the climax of the final book. Just good stuff. Definitely worth reading. Ideal for when you’re sitting around waiting for your kids’ after school events to be over. Maybe not a a bedtime read since I did stay up late to keep on going. Just one more chaptering my way to 3am!

So this book–Molly House by AR Pip–I’m not sure how to talk about it because it was very much my cuppa, but I don’t think it will be everyone’s. It’s a VERY LONG book. I think it was way longer than my longest book. But I don’t know for sure…

First, let’s talk about the cover. It doesn’t really set the right expectations at all. This cover seems to imply that the book is going to be a rom-com, especially with how unconventional the characters look, the campy aspect to the art, and the title: MOLLY HOUSE. The title remains a mystery to me even after having read the book. Yes, there is a molly house eventually (after several hundred pages, I’d wager) and, yes, there are some fairly important scenes that take place in it, but it is far and away not what the book is about.

Going in, I expected one thing, but I got something else entirely.

It’s hard to talk about this book without giving too much away. The blurb does a decent job of explaining what the cover doesn’t.

Now, I think this might not be the book for everyone even though it was probably one of my favorite reads of the year so far.

SPOILERS BELOW:

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The relationship between MCs is difficult and sad most of the book. There is a breakup and a new marriage and a divorce and cheating. So that will make a lot of you walk away. I’ve thought about why I enjoyed the book, even while I thought their relationship was toxic. I liked it for all the great historical depictions, the epic feel to it all, and I liked the class issues and the eventual comeuppance to one of the leads.

So I recommend it if you like big, emotional rollercoaster stories with a wide cast and an HEA.

So if you want to have a complex journey where you feel a lot of mixed up things, here’s the link:

Some of you probably know that Mildred Abbott of Cozy Corgie Cozy Mysteries fame is Brandon Witt from the Gay Romance genre. When he first started out in this new-to-him cozy mysteries genre, ages ago, I bought the first book–Cruel Candy–to be supportive. I never got around to reading it, though, because I thought I wasn’t a cozy mystery kind of girl. Also I thought cozy mysteries were like, “Who stole the tractor out of Bob’s field?” sorts of things, and not books with actual MURDER in them.

Well, the pink cover challenge brought me the opportunity to read this book, and guess what? I AM a cozy mysteries kind of girl (nb, whatever.) And at only .99 for the first book, you can be one, too! And I highly recommend this book. I even bought the next in the series for when I start reading blue covers!

First off, believe it or not I almost didn’t solve the mystery until the book was over. I mean, okay, I thought it was someone really early on and that was right, but the book did a great job of talking me out of it.

Secondly, the characters and set up were quite charming. And if you can suspend disbelief that the MC wouldn’t be arrested for getting mixed up in a police investigation, you’ll enjoy it.

Warnings: cop love interest. I know some of you are avoiding cops in stories these days.

Start the series here:

My last read of the year was His Last Christmas in London. Absolutely loved it. A+ for sure; I adored the dynamic and recommend wholeheartedly. I don’t have a ton to say about it because it just simply hit the spot for me.

Chapter One

Matthew

Fate is an odd thing, isn’t it? 

If I hadn’t had too much to drink last night, sitting not only alone but lonely at the hotel bar after the dull-as-dishwater conference I’d attended on behalf of my accounting firm, I might not have accidentally set my alarm for seven p.m. instead of seven a.m. And if I’d set my alarm for the right time, I most certainly wouldn’t have missed my flight out of Asheville. 

If I hadn’t missed my plane, I wouldn’t have returned to the hotel to book myself in for another night while I attempted to wrangle a new flight or a rental car for a non-exorbitant price the next day. 

And if I hadn’t returned to the hotel, I never would have known it was hosting a very different crowd over the weekend for a fascinating special event.

And if…

Well, you get the point.

If it hadn’t been for all that, I wouldn’t be here now, in the middle of the Blue Ridge Kink Club’s Christmas Auction, having paid thirty dollars at the door for the privilege of sipping a watered-down drink and watching people in all kinds of bondage and kink gear getting their wild on. Nor would I be walking through the various kinky offerings for the auction.

For one thing, I’m not from around here, so a lot of this stuff—like the whipping, for example—would be hard to collect on, and for another thing, I’m not sure I’m even kinky. 

I’ve only been out as a gay man for a few years, having waited until my parents died to be true to myself. During those long, dark years in the closet, I gave (more like endured) my share of quick and raunchy blowjobs, but those kinds of experiences aren’t what I want or need anymore. 

That’s something I’m still trying to figure out. What do I want? What do I need?

Hookup apps have been informative. Actual hookups themselves would have been even more so—but so far the apps have mostly been helpful in terms of highlighting what I don’t want. Not that I can explain what that is in any detail either. 

I just know of everything I’ve done to explore my sexuality—whether it’s the nasty furtive stuff of my youth or contemplating possible hookups—none of it has been fulfilling or right. 

All I’ve ever wanted is to feel right.

During my stay for my business meeting, I’d already explored the hotel’s various amenities. All typical and not worth checking out again. I’d already walked around Asheville and enjoyed its offerings, though it’s always lonely being in a new place with no one to share it with. 

So, after a solitary dinner at a local restaurant, when I returned to the hotel to see signs for the Blue Ridge Kink Club Christmas Charity Auction stating 18+ members of the general public were welcome to pay for entrance and even more welcome to bid, I decided to see what it was about. Because I still haven’t found what I’m looking for, and, who knows? Maybe it’s here. 

Right about now, as I pause in front of one particular offering, I’m not sure how I feel about my choice to come to the auction tonight. It might have opened a Pandora’s Box for me.

Because I’m captivated.

The offering is presented on a black, trifold poster, like I used in school to show the findings of my science projects on the toxicity of soil or the effect of ultraviolet light on bacteria growth. Except sexy. Across the middle-top portion intriguing words are written in silver-glitter marker to stand out on the dark poster: I’ll Be Your December Daddy.

The left-hand side of the trifold presents a handful of photos framed with tinfoil, shining in the low light of the hotel’s ballroom. In the photos, a tall, handsome man wears nothing but a pair of jeans tight enough to display his powerful thighs and thickly-muscled ass. 

In one picture, he stands with his legs spread while a young man, perhaps twenty-three or so, kneels at his feet. The boy is also shirtless; his shoulders are scrawny, and the musculature of his back shows his youth. But what grabs my attention is the combination of the older man’s hand resting in the boy’s hair and the boy’s wide-eyed adoration. 

I swallow hard. 

The next photo is similar—the boy is kneeling again, but this time both are fully dressed, and wearing Christmas sweaters. The man keeps his hand on the boy’s shoulder, and the boy leans against his strong leg with an expression of contented bliss. My chest aches, and I rub it anxiously. I’ve never felt that kind of satisfaction in my life. Not even once. 

But I crave it. And it might seem silly, but the thought of having someone to wear a hokey holiday sweater with makes my throat tighten with longing. I’ve never had that either. My parents always declared Jesus-is-the-reason-for-the-season, and due to their rigid brand of religious devotion, the holidays were never silly or particularly joyful in my home.

The next photo is the boy alone. He’s opening a Christmas stocking with a smile of delight. Next up is a picture of the two of them cuddling on a brown, leather sofa, a Christmas tree lit up next to it, and the boy tucked in by the older man’s side. There he rests, safe and sound, cradled in his Daddy’s arms. Eyes closed. Asleep. 

I imagine there are carols playing softly, and it’s late on Christmas Eve. All is calm, all is bright. I lick my lips, wondering what it would be like to be held like that, to be cherished, to trust and adore a man like this boy does. If only for a few days, a night, or hell, even an hour or two. 

And at Christmas? Even sweeter. 

Of course, if I lost my mind and bid on this “December Daddy” and somehow won him, he wouldn’t really be my Daddy on the twenty-fifth—this man surely has his own plans. But it would be close enough. I’ve never celebrated Christmas the way I’ve always dreamed of. Even when my parents were alive, aside from the night we decorated the tree, we’d always kept a sober and serious holiday.

I’ve never been treated by anyone, not even my own father, with the strong, tender kindness radiating from the Daddy in these photos, nor have I felt the open-hearted joy I see written all over the boy’s face. 

Feeling lightheaded, I pull my gaze from the display to read what’s actually being put up for auction, because it can’t be a relationship like these two share. No one can auction something as intense as that.

     Daddy Erik is offering one Not-So-Silent Night—a Christmas-themed Daddy/boy Experience. He’ll deliver Daddy/boy dynamics, and a very merry faux-Christmas morning complete with a stuffed stocking, gifts from Santa Daddy, and other agreed upon “presents” for being a good boy. No prior experience is required. Kinks and all other physical interactions negotiated in advance. Either party may cancel this arrangement at any time for any reason. Proof of STI testing required. No more than one night. Norepeats from prior years. And absolutely no drinking or drugs allowed during our time together. References available.

I take a quick gulp of my whiskey, already feeling like Daddy Erik’s eyes are on me, and I’m breaking one of his rules. Breathlessly, I turn my attention to the paper beneath the trifold where people can make their anonymous bids, curious how much money has already been put on this man and the offered experience. 

On the left side of the paper there’s a column for the private PIN number we were given at the door and next to it a line for the bid being placed. 

Both those columns are empty. 

Not a single person has bid on Daddy Erik’s offer. I can’t imagine why. Many of the other kinks at the auction have multiple lines of bids already. Is there something about this man that makes him undesirable? A reputation that the Asheville kink community is aware of but I, a stranger to town, am not? 

As I ponder that possibility, my gaze strays to the photos again. I don’t see any red flags in the pictures. Everything appears soft and lovely between these men. This Daddy obviously knows how to make his boy happy and give him the perfect Christmas.

I imagine myself kneeling at his feet with his hand in my hair and my blood rushes south. It’s arousing to contemplate being on my knees for a man like Daddy Erik, but more than that, I know deep down I’d feel so relieved to be there. At his feet. Under his hand.

I take in the pictures again, scrutinizing Daddy Erik’s face for any hint of malevolence or cruelty, trying to understand why no one here wants to take him up on his offer. I see nothing but the open-hearted adoration of his boy and an easiness between them I envy. 

As if I can tell a bad person from his looks alone. So foolish. 

And yet…

Self-conscious, I dart glances around the room to see if anyone is observing me—someone who might warn me away from this man and his tempting December Daddy Experience. But no one is paying the nerdy quiet guy and his watered-down whiskey any attention at all. Per the usual. 

I pick up the pen and before I know what I’m doing, I’ve bent over the auction paper to write my PIN number at the top of the first column. Pausing midway through, I’m halted by something stamped at the top of the auction paper.

The minimum opening bid.

My brows hit my hairline. No wonder the columns are empty. The opening bid is eye-wateringly high. Enough to make me stop and reconsider. 

Clearing my throat, I think of my bank account, and rake my gaze over the pictures again. The clench of yearning in my heart, so strong and primal, makes it hard to catch my breath. 

Until tonight, until the last few minutes, even, I’d never known I wanted this, and yet now I want it so much I’m more than willing to part with an absurdly high sum just to experience an approximation of whatever that boy is feeling at his Daddy’s feet. 

Still, that much money for one night is beyond indulgent and bordering on rash. I hem and haw again, wondering when was the last time I treated myself? When my folks were sick, I’d dedicated my time between work and caring for them. When my parents passed on, I’d spent two years sorting out their estate. 

When I decided to come out as a gay man, I admitted it to three friends, and have never done anything else about it. I haven’t dated. I haven’t partied. I haven’t played or indulged or fucked around. 

I’ve been boring. A cardboard person. I’ve been afraid and cautious. I’ve been alone.

So if I want to spend a shit-ton of money to have a handsome man hold me, buy me presents, and give me the kind of Christmas I’ve dreamed of? Teach me what it means to be gay and loved? That’s my prerogative. And if it’s only for one night? That’s all the better, isn’t it? I can test it out. Have my physical needs met for the first time and see if this Daddy/boy dynamic is truly something I want. No strings attached. 

And if this is what I want? If I like it as much as I think I will? 

I’ll need to consider reworking and reactivating my dating app profiles at the very least. Maybe more. 

I add the rest of my PIN number to the sheet, set my maximum bid significantly higher than the already high minimum, and swallow the rest of my drink in a single gulp. 

Then I leave the auction. 

Rushing on anxiety and excitement, I swing by the hotel bar. I need a strong drink this time, and request two shots of whiskey to take the edge off. As I swallow them, liquor burning my throat, it’s as if I might levitate off the bar stool and fly to the ceiling. I can’t believe what I’ve done. 

They’d told me when I entered the auction that, if I bid on anything tonight, they’d use the contact information associated with the PIN number to let me know if I’ve won. I keep checking my phone as if the notification will come through at any moment.

Absurd.

It’s not until I’m back up in my hotel room, brushing my teeth before bed, that jumbled worries begin to rise up from beneath my excitement. What if this isn’t safe? What if he’s dangerous? What if he’s unkind? What if I’m not good enough to be a boy to a handsome man like Daddy Erik? He looks younger than me, and the boy pictured with him was younger than me by far. Maybe it’s not done for someone in their forties to want to be a boy? Maybe it’s weird or something? What if I’m making a fool of myself? What if he doesn’t want me?

I laugh bitterly at my reflection. Why is the thought Daddy Erik might not want me more frightening than the thought he might hurt me? I’ve told myself I’m going to find a way to love myself better from now on, and yet if Daddy Erik hurts me, I feel, deep down, I might deserve it. 

But oh, how I want him to want me. 

What if he can’t? What if he won’t?

But what if he does?

I climb into the wide hotel bed, strung out with desire and anxiety. I’m half-hard thinking of a night with Daddy Erik—snuggled against him, safe and adored—so I work to get myself off, but I can’t seem to get there. My fears keep pushing in. I let go of my reluctant cock, curl up on my side, and stare out the window instead, watching the Christmas decorations sparkle and blink all around the mountain town. 

My thoughts fall into the same rhythm as the blinking lights. I’m exhausted, but I can’t fall asleep.

What if…what if…what if…

Preorder now: https://mybook.to/MDDXmas

CHAPTER ONE

North

December 21

It wasn’t like I’d wanted to show the entire fucking world my “engorged cock,” as the angry mob on Twitter kept calling it. I hadn’t meant for anyone to see it except for HungryTop34, and I’d only shown him because we’d sexted a few times before, and this time he’d begged to see “the whole package.”

Maybe it wasn’t smart of me (you think?), but I’d sent a picture of my “package.” A great shot of it, too. It took twenty minutes just to get the right angle. For his eyes only!

Or so I’d thought.

Because somehow? What I actually did? Was share the photo to my Instagram story, which automatically cross-posted to my Twitter, Facebook, and Snapchat. How had I made such an idiotic mistake? Had I really been that horny and excited I’d gotten confused between the chat on my hookup app and my Insta story?

All signs pointed to yes.

There I was, leaning back in bed, hand around my dick, waiting to hear what HungryTop34 thought of my “package,” when my phone began pinging wildly with messages from every social media app I had and with incoming texts from everyone I knew.

Blinking at comments like, “Ew, bro wtf,” I sat in stunned confusion until someone commented, “That’s your dick?!?”

That was when I’d felt it. Just the way everyone described.

My blood turned cold, and my stomach dropped with a horrifying swoop. Vomit surged up my throat, and I feared I was about to heave all over my bed. Luckily, I made it to the bathroom first.

Once I stopped puking and got my brain together enough to figure out I should do something about my massive, enormous, horrible error, my hands were shaking so badly I couldn’t get the pictures deleted fast enough. I tried. I really did try.

But it was far too late.

Afterward, my mind went blank, like someone had painted it over with that bumpy ceiling spackle they have in old buildings, or maybe it was more like a snowstorm. Just raging, howling, whiteness. Along with an urgent need to escape—to hide.

I shoved some stuff into my backpack—left empty on the floor of my closet ever since I quit college last month—and took the stairs two at a time down to the parking garage. I climbed into my favorite Lexus and hightailed it out of Seattle, my home for the last two years.

At first, I didn’t know what to do or where to go. I drove blindly onto I-90, fighting traffic and panic. My phone was going bonkers. I dumped it into the central storage compartment beneath the arm rest and blared music so I couldn’t hear it vibrating.

As I drove into the darkness, my mind whirled with visions of the never-ending humiliation ahead.

Unfortunately, accidentally uploading a dick pic wasn’t my first brush with scandal. Being the child of famous people and standing to inherit millions and millions of dollars, people cared way more than they otherwise would about every little thing I said, did, thought, wore, read, watched, or listened to.

The scrutiny—that’s a word my ex-bodyguard Liam had used to describe my situation—was as intense as it was endless.

Gossip sites and tabloids were relentless in their pursuit of information about my family. They stalked not only our social media accounts but also the accounts of our friends. And even people we weren’t friends with if they thought there was even a chance they knew us. I was convinced there were tabloid reporters following the social media posts of my Seattle apartment’s neighbors, hoping to get a glimpse of me in the background of one of their on-site pool or gym pics.

My worst past scandal took place just a few months ago, and it still wasn’t dead and buried. It hadn’t even been my fault, but I’d taken all the blame.

The situation: I was at a Halloween party thrown by my then-friend Lily Maynard. (Daughter of Eddie Maynard of Farm Fresh Frozen Foodies fame, aka “new money girl” as my Grandmother Astor called her.) I’d had my space alien costume made just for the event, complete with a big, round, gray headpiece, glittery antennae, and gray bodysuit.

I’d always been a big fan of anything extraterrestrial. And dragons! I loved reading stories about these fantasy creatures, watching TV and movies including them, and I loved to draw them. Particularly dragons. Drawing was probably what I was best at in life.

Later, after the scandal blew up, I often wondered: had I dressed as a dragon that night, would things have gone differently? Because of…what was it called? My sister Southerland had told me about it…

Ah, the Butterfly Effect. Change one thing in the past, and you change everything in the present.

But there I was, standing near the chips and salsa, stuffing my face, and obsessing over the fact our college’s it-boy, Robson Reynolds, was also at the party. When I’d first arrived, he’d grabbed my ass and whispered in my ear, “Hot aliens come first.”

That was a flirty request for sex, wasn’t it?

Confused, worried, and hopeful—and kind of turned on—I’d wished I had an NDA handy for him to sign, just in case…

Yeah. An NDA.

Because I was “North Astor-Ford of the Astor-Ford hotel/acting fortune,” as the gossip sites called me, and I couldn’t jump into bed with just anyone. There was too much to consider.

What if the person I had sex with took secret pictures or videos of us and sold them? What if they wrote a thinly veiled blog post or Twitter thread about me and published the details of our encounter for the world’s amusement and judgment? What if a girl claimed I got her pregnant? What if I did get her pregnant? What if a guy or girl said I gave them an STD? What if they gave me an STD? What if they tried to blackmail me for money? What if, what if, what if?

Not that I’d been smart enough to consider all the potential consequences on my own. Foresight wasn’t one of my gifts, though I had many others, as Grandma Ford always said. She just meant my looks. I couldn’t think of anything else I was exceptional at. Well, except for drawing cool aliens and dragons.

But because I wasn’t very good at being able to predict what the outcome of any given situation or choice might be, my family had taken extra precautions. Which was why, ever since Southerland and I became teens, our parents had arranged for us and our bodyguards/managers to attend monthly meetings with “image consultants” and family lawyers to check we were staying on track.

My folks always wanted to make sure we understood the potential problems of making a “relationship mistake.” Warner Jackson, my dad’s manager, once said to me, “A thing which starts out small when it’s just you and the girl alone in a room together—a kiss, a hand job, a whispered secret—can escalate into something enormous once it’s out in the wider world. Don’t ever forget it.”

Well, Warner Jackson? I thought as I steered my way toward the mountains. Ever since I hit send on the message to HungryTop34, I’ve thought of nothing else.

Sending that pic had seemed like such a small thing—not my dick, it was plenty big—but the actual sending of the picture had seemed harmless enough. It’d been a private moment just between HungryTop34 and me. Intimate. Secret.

But now, because of my stupid mistake, it would spiral into a mammoth, huge, thunderous, monstrous, ever-growing, utterly humiliating disastrous crisis which would probably consume my whole life. Maybe it already had, given the state of my phone.

The armrest vibrated insistently with new notifications. I turned the music up again and clutched the steering wheel with both hands. Sweat rolled down my temples, and my stomach lurched, but I kept on driving.

God, how had this happened? The mess was all the app makers’ fault!

It shouldn’t have been possible for a person to set up all that automatic cross-posting! What a terrible idea! When I’d originally chosen the option, I’d felt smart, thinking of the time and effort I’d save myself from then on. But how had I not predicted an accident like this? It was destined to happen.

Stupid app designers! My dad should sue them. No! I realized I should! Because I was an adult, and I could do things like that. Yes, I could sue them for a bazillion dollars, which would barely even begin to cover the emotional trauma and damage to my reputation.

Though I couldn’t say I had much of a rep left to protect.

Which brought me back to the big scandal at Halloween, the one that’d prompted me to drop out of school: Robson Reynolds had entered the kitchen where I was choking down chips and salsa, sauntered up to me, rested his forearms on my shoulders, grinned, and darted forward to lick a bit of salsa from the corner of my mouth.

Pulling back, he’d given me a wicked smirk. “Getting messy without me, alien?”

I was so excited by this hot guy who’d apparently set his sights on me, I didn’t even notice all the phones out, all the pictures and videos being taken.

Worse, I didn’t look at Robson Reynolds’s costume.

I was caught up in his wide shoulders, his piercing blue eyes, his smug smile, and his arms around my neck, dragging me in for what became my first and only kiss with a guy; I was nearly numb with shock.

I’d kissed a number of girls before, usually at parties, in dark closets with the door closed, and I’d touched several sets of breasts, but I’d never been crushed up against another guy’s strength before. It sent my head swimming, my senses reeling, and my dick throbbing.

Breaking the kiss, Robson cupped my crotch and announced loudly, “Looks like he likes it both ways.” He’d swung around to the room at large, shouting, “Pay up!”

Money passed hands. Robson laughed as he collected it, tucking the green bills into the breast of his costume—at that point, I’d recognized it as a military jacket—and sauntered out of the room without looking back. Feeling like I’d been backhanded, I stared after him, slack-jawed and embarrassed. The cackling teasing of my so-called friends filled my ears. I couldn’t get out of there fast enough.

On the elevator down to the ground floor of Lily’s apartment building, my phone started buzzing away in my alien costume’s side pocket. I knew what that meant: I’d kissed another guy in public, and now the whole world knew about it.

As soon as I reached the parking garage, I drove straight home to my apartment, ignoring my phone as it continued to blow up.

Just the way I was ignoring it now.

That willful ignorance of the fallout of Robson’s lips on mine hadn’t lasted long. My parents had arrived the next morning with their most terrifying attorney, Lu Weinstein, and I’d had to issue a formal, recorded apology for my “mistake.”

Because somehow, someway, it was my fault Robson Reynolds was wearing a Nazi armband on his military costume that night (what a disgusting asshole!), and it was my fault he’d kissed me in the kitchen, and it was my fault people had posted videos and pictures of it all over the internet.

North Astor-Ford’s new boyfriend is beyond problematic, and here’s why…

North Astor-Ford’s out of the closet and into the foulest of messes…

North Astor-Ford licked by Neo-Nazi and likes it…

North Astor-Ford—

It’d gone on and on.

And I’d done what was asked of me.

I’d apologized for Robson’s offensive costume and for kissing him while he wore it—though I’d actually had nothing to do with his choice to wear such a horrific get-up, and I hadn’t kissed him at all; he’d kissed me!

And the family attorneys made sure I apologized for attending the party and apologized for embarrassing my family, and for being gay (even though I’m not? I’m bisexual! And even if I were gay, there’s nothing wrong with that!), and finally, I apologized for basically existing.

Meanwhile, Lily posted a tearful video on her social media saying Robson, and I had ruined her party, and she’d never forgive him or me for it. So long to those six whole weeks of friendship! The longest one of my short life. Unless you counted my kinda-sorta friendship with Liam, and Southerland said I couldn’t count that because he was my employee.

Robson himself made a stilted, subdued apology for the costume after being kicked off the university basketball team. He’d said: “I’m also sorry I ever met North Astor-Ford. He’s led me to make poor choices. I’m going to distance myself from him and do some hard thinking. I’m going to be a better man from now on.”

Like it was my fault? Like we were even friends, or boyfriends, or more than casual acquaintances before that night? Like I picked his costume?

After the Robson incident, I became a pariah on campus, more for ruining Robson’s potential basketball career and for upsetting Lily Maynard—that innocent pretty princess of a girl—than for being an idiot who’d dressed as an alien for Halloween and somehow been caught up in a prank kiss from an asshole who’d just wanted to drag me into his nasty game and sully my reputation.

Sully. That was a good, fancy word. My folks’ attorney used it a lot when talking about how careful Southerland and I needed to be in our behavior.

To this day, no one has ever asked me how I felt about the kiss. No one cared how it’d affected me as a person or that I’d felt violated and sick that my first kiss with a guy had been stolen by such a horrible human being. No one had everasked if I was all right or not.

Liam would have, but he wasn’t around anymore.

Because I’d fired him.

Memory aching, I gripped the steering wheel, maneuvering around trucks, and wondering how many of the drivers knew about my scandal with Robson and now how many had seen my dick.

Eventually, I realized I couldn’t drive forever. It was getting late, and I was shaky with nerves and exhaustion. I needed to choose a place as a destination, but there was nowhere on earth I wanted to be. Except with Liam. I’d be safe if I were next to him.

I knew where he was living these days. At his mom’s house. In Idaho.

But that was hours and hours away, and I couldn’t just go there. What would his mom think? If her son’s former protectee showed up in the middle of the night wanting comfort after posting his dick pic for all the world to see? That’d be rude. And an Astor was never rude in public, and a Ford was never rude at all, so I had to be polite for sure. My bloodlines were counting on it.

My panic had turned to a buzzy itch beneath my skin, and as I struggled to think of where to hide out, my mind offered up one of my last memories of Liam from three Decembers ago.

“I worked at the chalet all through high school,” he’d said, his voice warm and steady, brimming with nostalgia. “It was like a second home to me.”

“Did you need a second home?” I’d asked.

He’d smiled, shiny as a penny with all that rich, red hair and his sparkling, cinnamon-brown eyes. “Don’t we all need as many places to call ‘home’ as we can get?”

Shaking the memory from my head, my car’s lights cutting out a path on the dark road, I said out loud, “I just want any kind of home right now. Anywhere to feel safe.”

An idea came to me. What if, instead of trying to get to Liam at his mom’s place, I went to the chalet where he’d once worked instead? I could stay there through Christmas Day, avoid the world and my parents, and maybe I’d get the guts to seek out Liam before I left… Apologize to him for firing him like that.

I wracked my brain for the name of the place. I remembered it rhymed, but I couldn’t quite grab hold of the details. I’d just given up when it came to me.

Camp Bay Chalet.

I pulled off the road and punched the name of the inn into my GPS.

As I hit enter, the robotic woman’s voice announced, “Starting route to Camp Bay, Idaho.”

I felt safer already.

Buy the full book now: North’s Pole

In December, I always like to blog about my favorite books of the year. Because I do a lot of editing and beta reading, I recognize that can cause bias, so my only rules for this annual accounting are:

1) I read the book in the prior 12 months, and

2) I had nothing to do with the production of the book.

However, this year, I’m breaking this second rule for one book. Scroll down to find out which one!

 (Click on any of the covers to learn more about the book.)

This was the year of Gail Carriger for me. I read all five books of her The Parasol Protectorate series, starting with Soulless, and then proceeded to read almost all of the associated books in her catalogue. She has two spin-off series from this starter set, one I’ve read all of and the other I plan to get into next year. She also has some stand-alone spin-off novels associated with side-characters of this universe, and I read all of them as well. I absolutely 100% recommend these books for entertainment and characters you’ll fall for more and more over time. They contain: werewolves, vampires, soul-stealers (of a sort), ghosts, and lots of manners, tea, and historical frippery. A+ would read again, and likely will.

The Custard Protocol series, the spin-off  series set after the Parasol Protectorate books, were a wonderful addition to the universe. I dare to say that Prudence and Imprudence might actually be my favorites of the entire universe, but you really should read the first series to fully enjoy them. The last two in the series were a bit of a fizzle instead of the fireworks of the first, but they were necessary to close out the series and satisfying in their own way. Again, I absolutely recommend these books. More werewolves, vampires, soul-stealers, ghosts, and adventures via dirigible!

 

There are important queer side-characters in the Parasol Protectorate/Custard Protocol universe that get their happy endings in delicious and delightful side novellas. I eagerly read each and every one. Absolutely worth reading the series in exacting order to hit the peaks of these side character novellas at the right moment to really feel them in your bones.

There was also a straight side character that got a much deserved happy ending. But be aware! If you read these books out of order, and don’t include the side-novellas at the right juncture, you may not fully understand why this character gets a happy ending. He’s spends much of his time in the main novels acting like a jerk. But if you read them all in order, when you get to this one, it is oh so very satisfying!

MOVING ON FROM GAIL CARRIGER NOW!

I started this classic m/m series, Tyack & Frayne by Harper Fox, in late 2018 and finished it over the course of 2019. I loved the development of the characters and the psychic phenomena. I loved the relationship between the two men, and hope eagerly for more from them in the future. Not too scary for me to read at night, but definitely spooky at times. I recommend this series whole-heartedly.

IN KINKIER READS!

I’m almost always a fan of Marie Sexton’s books. This book delivered in some daring and interesting ways, going deeper into some difficult places than many authors dare to tread. I read a number of kinky books this year, but only this and one other stood out for me.  Trigger warning for past sexual abuse and the use of BDSM to deal with that trauma.

I started The Escort’s Tale by MJ Edwards (aka Robert Winter) expecting a naughty, fluffy read, and found that while it was plenty naughty, there wasn’t really anything fluffy about it. The book is layered and meaningful, including themes of bisexual awakening, dealing with a disability, and polyamory. A+ work. Do recommend!

NOW ON TO SOME LITERARY WORKS

If I had to give one book the title of “Leta’s Top Read of the Year” it would be this one. Not that We Are the Ants was fun to read. It was, in fact, incredibly wrenching, and, frankly, over the top, and at times a bit melodramatic, but it was, in my opinion, the perfect representation of what it feels like to be Gen Z right now. Maybe it’s what it always feels like to be a teenager? My Gen X self certainly saw parallels in it with the Gen X teen years, but at the same time so much more traumatizing. I both recommend this book and caution people about it. You’ll feel a lot of feelings–including frustration and anger at the main character–but it is what it is, and this book pretty much captures that. Anyway, read it or don’t. As the great motivational speech from the 1979 movie Meatballs said and as this book points out, “It just doesn’t matter.”

Beautifully written, moving version of a Russian fairytale about an old man and woman who make a child of snow and wake in the morning to find the child is real. There’s a deeper look within this novel version about the fight between our wild and civilized selves as well, and the way that culture kills a woman’s wildness. It was one of my most memorable reads this year, but again, it’s a sad one. So I don’t recommend it without noting that it will take you to some quiet, sad, lonely places inside. For what it’s worth, though, it has inspired a novella in my Heat of Love universe that I hope to put out this year. The connection will be obvious if you read this book and then read mine, but, of course, they will be completely different, too.

This was a book that only rewards the patient reader. The very patient reader. I might have given up if one of my best friends who usually shares my taste in novels hadn’t told me that this book was an absolute must read and warned me in advance about the need for patience to get to the pay off. Highly recommended for the person who loves magic, mystery, and long stories of other lands with a splash of queerness all over it.

AND NOW THE BOOK THAT BREAKS MY RULE

I did edit this book and so I recognize the bias in that. However, I feel like Bars & Butterflies deserves a mention because it was one of the most unique books I read this year. It was daring in many ways and I was impressed that Grace Killian Delaney embraced the strangeness of her premise and her characters, as well as the beauty, without worrying for a moment that the oddness of it meant she’d be looking at reduced sales figures. I adored the bravery of taking this on and presenting this beautiful, unique tale about grief, magic, and more, and I also loved how willingly Grace worked to improve the book in edits. It’s well worth your $2.99! Recommended!

Autism Fact: There is no medical detection for autism.  

BLOG HOP MASTER POST: http://rjscott.co.uk/autism19

Childhood Toys:

AS SEEN ON EBAY

My favorite childhood toy was definitely this Fischer Price toy house. I have so many memories of sitting on our red shag carpet on Saturday mornings, watching cartoons, and playing with this house. As a writer, I’ve always most enjoy imaginative play where I could have dolls interact with each other and play out little stories. I loved this house so much and just looking at it brings back bittersweet yearnings.

For a chance to win a $5 Amazon Giftcard, please participate in a Rafflecopter giveaway 

Should you be so inclined as to want to give to help raise Autism awareness, please consider Lindengate in the UK. This is a mental health charity that works with autistic children like author RJ Scott’s son. https://mydonate.bt.com/charities/lindengate

My latest release with Indra Vaughn doesn’t feature childhood toys, but it does feature the following:

• Hot, grumpy cowboy
• Young, sweet hipster
• Surprise nipple rings
• Intense noodling
• Intense feels

“I didn’t expect this light-hearted story to absolutely consume me like it did. Whoa. Cowboy meets hipster. Who knew? It was freaking GOLD.”

 

“From laughing out loud to sobbing uncontrollably, this is one of most wonderful books I’ve ever read. I just couldn’t put down!”

“It’s everything you expect, and then some. And beautifully written. Thoroughly entertaining from start to finish.”

“I sat down to read this, and I’m not sure I did much more today besides sit here and read, or devour, this book.”

“It’s been a long time since I started a book before bed and read until dawn. I smiled, snickered, wept, and melted. If you’re looking for the full monty of feels, this little lion and his cowboy are exactly what you need.” 

“Indra Vaughn and Leta Blake collab so well together that they’re an autobuy.” 

A sexy cowboy gets roped into a reality show and falls for a hot hipster. But is it all for show?  

Walker Reed’s Louisiana cattle ranch is in debt after costly repairs from hurricane damage. To get the money, his family schemes to make Walker the star of a new bachelor reality series: Queer Seeks Spouse. How hard can it be to fake interest in a dozen handsome men for a few weeks in exchange for enough money to solve all of their problems?

Roan Carmichael never got his Masters degree after his mother was diagnosed with cancer. With medical bills piling up, and a costly experimental treatment available, Roan signs on to be a suitor on Queer Seeks Spouse. While he hates having to leave his sick mother long enough to win the cash for her treatment, he’s willing to do whatever it takes.

Can two men who are just in it for the money fake their way into real and lasting love? Cowboy Seeks Husband, the latest book by Vespertine authors Leta Blake and Indra Vaughn, features a cowboy, a hipster, opposites attract, steamy scenes, and heart tugging moments that will leave you wanting more.

In December, I always like to blog about my favorite books of the year. Because I do a lot of editing and beta reading, I recognize that can cause bias, so my only rules for this annual accounting are: 1) I read the book in the prior 12 months, and 2) I had nothing to do with the production of the book. With that in mind, let’s get on to the part where I talk about books! I have nine favorites this year! (Click on any of the covers to learn more about the book.)

This book brought all the giddy feelings that old skool fan fiction used to bring for me. This makes sense because the book is, in a way, fanfiction itself. It’s a book about the characters that the main character of Rowell’s famous Fangirl was obsessed with. Um, that’s a complicated sentence? Anyway, I never read Fangirl, so you can definitely read this without reading the other book first. And I gotta say, I’m dying for a sequel to this one. So here’s hoping. A vampire. A special teenage magician. A magical school. The parallels to Harry Potter are on purpose. I was impressed by the way she was able to twist everything just enough that everything is original while the inspiration can’t be escaped. Many will not enjoy because they’ll think it’s a Harry Potter ripoff, but they’re missing the point. This is sheer creativity. Loved it.

Crooked Kingdom is the sequel to Six of Crows, one of my favorite reads from last year. I adored this amazing, painful, gutting, awesome final installment. I wish this series was longer. I started Bardugo’s related series in the same universe hoping for another fix of this magic, and I do plan to finish it, but it didn’t get into my skin like Six of Crows and Crooked Kingdom. Young adult fantasy is always my jam, as you’ll notice if you follow these posts at all, but the particular world of these books really spoke to me. I might even re-read them, which is something I rarely do in my 40s. (So many books so little time!) Absolutely recommend for fans of Young Adult fantasy.

 

This lovely graphic novel is all about gender fluidity. I absolutely loved the way it deftly addressed the gender presentation of a prince who wants to wear fabulous dresses sometimes and wear prince clothes at other times. I also enjoyed the sweet background romance, the final chapters brought a big grin to my face. Impressed with the drawings as well. I found them incredibly enjoyable and liked looking for details in them. Recommended for ages 11 and up, I’d say.

 

Everyone’s already read and loved these, but I didn’t start them until this past summer. I read them all and loved each one. The series is a classic in gay historical fantasy for a reason. There really isn’t much to say about it that can’t be summed up with the words magic and KJ Charles. Highly recommended!

I’m not sure what genre this falls under and I’m not even sure how it came to be in my TBR or how long it had lingered there before I read it. I’ll quote my Goodreads review of it:

“This book was my jam. Dark retelling of a childhood story, focusing on the horror of Pan. In the original story, Pan was not the Disney boy we saw in the movie–he was brutal and rather terrifying–and that’s the direction this book took things. It was dark enough that the whole time I was reading, I wondered, “Is this too dark for my 12yo? Because otherwise I think she’d love this and I should buy it in paperback for her.” In the end, I think she could handle it and plan to see if she’s interested before purchasing it in paperback. Or maybe I want to own this for my own shelves? I enjoyed it that much.

There were a few potentially racist things in it that I was like, “Wait, is that racist? Is that just me?” and I guess I don’t feel qualified to say whether they were or not, being super white and all, but I wish the editor had stripped them out, because it was literally one or two lines that were, all in all, unnecessary.

Probably going on my favorites list for the year.”

And, lo, it did end up on the list!

 

This book is a sci-fi retelling of Beauty and the Beast and it manages it beautifully. I’ll admit that I would have happily read twice as much about these characters, but Deckard kept it brief at novella length. As someone who invariably writes long, I was impressed with her ability to capture all the elements of Beauty and the Beast, create a sci-fi world to hold them, and still get the whole tale told in less than 35,000 words! Truly enjoyable. Recommended.

 

 

I’ve had the first book of this 9 book series in my TBR for years, but I finally opened it in November and it was perfect for me. I haven’t finished the series yet, but can’t wait to get back to it. It did two things for me:

1. showed me that I can love cop stories if they involve psychics
2. provided me with the much-needed bedtime books, i.e. I enjoy them greatly, look forward to reading them at night, but don’t get so obsessed that I can’t think about anything else until I finish them.

 

Dragons! Gay love! A reality-show-esque competition for the prince’s hand! All the things I love in a book! I was only unhappy when it was over and there wasn’t a sequel. So I read it again.

My Cousin Rachel was no Rebecca, I’ll say that. However, like Rebecca, it quietly and relentlessly tore apart cultural assumptions about women, men, culture, trust, and love. At no point are questions about these issues directly posed in the book itself, but within its story the questions reside anyway. Is Rachel evil or simply nonconformist? Does she simply behave in ways that men find threatening in women? And what of the men’s behavior? Do they bring on their own demise?

I wanted to capture this vibe of Rebecca and My Cousin Rachel in my book Heat for Sale, but, in the end, gave in to allowing the questions to be subtly introduced on the page, even if proper answers are never delivered. If you enjoy Du Marurier’s style, I do recommend this book.

Previous years’ Favorite Reads lists:

2017

2016

2015

 

Autism Fact: About 1% of the world population has autism.

(Due to the preference of the majority of people on the #ActuallyAutistic tag on Twitter, in this post I will use the term autistic as a descriptor at times and not use entirely on ‘person first’ language. This is an informed choice based on the majority of feedback I’ve seen from #ActuallyAutistic people.)

There are all kinds of assumptions about what a person with autism or on the autism spectrum is like. The reality is that there are many ways for an autistic person to “be”. Some are excellent with numbers, math, and logic problems. Some, like RJ Scott’s awesome son, Matt, are very, very, very into ceiling fans. Some are artists. Some are musicians. Some are quiet. Some are talkative.

I live every day with a man on the autism spectrum. My husband has never been formally diagnosed, being of an age slightly before the “Asperger Syndrome” diagnosis became a thing, but I have no doubt that had he grown up only five or seven years later than he did, he’d have been diagnosed as a child. Most people who interact with him would never put him on the spectrum, though to those who do diagnose such things, he is immediately and obviously so. Still, if I had a dime for the number of times I’ve been told, “No, he can’t be on the spectrum. He has a job.” Or, “He can’t be on the spectrum because he obviously loves you very much.” As though people on the spectrum aren’t able to feel love?

My husband is an artist and a musician. He’s an audiophile who is obsessed (and I mean spectrum-level obsessed, y’all) with vintage audio equipment. He’s brilliant with one liners that will stun the person who thinks that just because he’s quiet or can’t talk about football, then he has nothing to bring to the conversation. He is the king of deadpan humor, but he has a very hard time making facial expressions that are socially appropriate, or responding earnestly and with interest to common communication themes. However, if you ask him a simple question about his audio equipment, well, be prepared for a very long (probably quite boring) info dump about the difference in recording quality between cassette tape and CDs.

He hates change.
He loves to travel–so long as he’s with me and can trust that I have it all under control.
He hates sports.
He loves music passionately. But specifically. 🙂

There are so many ways to be an autistic person, or to land anywhere on the autism spectrum. And each of these people have something unique to offer the world, a passion or a love that we can’t always appreciate to the same level, but reminds us that human beings are fascinating creatures with interests of all kinds. And that only human beings truly share these kinds of interests and passions. As far as we know, giraffes and elephants aren’t spending hours of their day analyzing the sound quality offered by cassette tape versus vinyl. Or studying ceiling fans. Or memorizing musical quotes to pull out at just the perfect moment to express a feeling or to sum up a situation. So beautifully, diversely human!

In my serial, Will & Patrick Wake Up Married, I was inspired by my husband to write a highly-functional, deeply loving person on the autism spectrum. The kind of man, like my husband, that most people don’t peg immediately as being on the spectrum, but who behaves in ways that don’t always line up with what society expects. Sometimes that’s funny. And sometimes it’s heartbreaking. But it’s always beautifully human.

CONTEST FOR THE AUTISM BLOG HOP!!!!

A $5 Amazon gift certificate and a copy of the first three episodes of Will & Patrick Wake Up Married. CLICK THROUGH and leave a comment on this Facebook post in order to be considered for the contest. I will choose a winner on May 1, 2018.

In December, I always like to blog about my favorite books of the year. Because I do a lot of editing and beta reading, I recognize that can cause bias, so my only rules for this annual post are: 1) I read the book in 2017 and 2) I had nothing to do with the production of the book. With that in mind, let’s get on to the part where I talk about books! I have nine favorites this year! (Click on any of the covers to go to Goodreads to learn more about the book.)

The Art of Mutual Pleasure by K.A. Meridian – This book has the distinction of being my absolute favorite stroke book of possibly all time. Make of that what you will, but, believe me, a truly filthy and yet wonderful stroke book is hard to find. I, uh, have spent a lot of money and time in the endeavor, let me assure you. Ahem. So, yes, this one is delicious and dirty and I will probably read it again and again. Don’t expect a perfectly told love story. That’s not the point of this book, nor should it be, and therefore if you want that, you’ll be disappointed. If you want something that will be a wonderful one-handed read? THIS IS THE BOOK FOR YOU.

Aqua Follies by Liv Rancourt – A mid-century historical that stuck with me for a long time. I’m not gonna lie to you and say there aren’t a few editing issues in this one, but the book as a whole is worth ignoring every last one of them. I admit I’m a sucker for the forbidden love aspect in historicals of any kind, and reading about a less explored time in terms of gay romance novels (the 1950s) was very enjoyable.

The Half-Drowned King by Linnea Hartsuyker – Not a romance (though it contains romantic elements), but one of my absolute favorite reads of recent years. I absolutely loved this book that, to quote the book jacket, “imagines the story of Ragnvald of Maer, the right hand man of King Harald Fairhair, first king of all Norway, and his sister, Svanhild, as she tries to find freedom in a society where the higher her brother rises, the greater her worth as a political pawn.” I give it all the thumbs up and recommend it highly.

The Julia Grey Mysteries by Deanna Raybourn – If I had to sum up 2017 in terms of my reading, it mainly consisted of these books. What I say next will sound like I’m damning them with faint praise, but let me assure you that if I hadn’t read all the books in the series already, I’d absolutely be picking up the next one immediately, because, well, I need books like this in my life. Now, let me explain: these books are perfect bedtime reading for me. They are engaging enough that I care, the characters are interesting enough that I like spending time with them and look forward to it, but the books aren’t so engaging or so interesting that I can’t easily fall asleep after a chapter or two. Not up all night feverishly turning pages. Not stressing about it through the day or dying to get back to it instead of writing my own books. But a lovely, pleasant, perfect interlude at night that I enjoyed and looked forward to. I read all the books in the series this year and I guess I’ll have to re-read them if I want to return to that pleasant little reading bubble. Or maybe I’ll try out Deanna Raybourn’s new lady detective series and hope I find the same level of magic.

The Girl from Everywhere by Heidi Heilig – this Young Adult time-travel story ended up really getting under my skin in a good way. I think the fact that we ended up going to Oahu, one of the main locations in the book, later this year definitely added to my enjoyment of the book. Regardless, I loved the concept and the execution, too. The one loophole I thought I’d found, I googled and realized that, nope, she’d plugged it, too. Time travel books are usually full of loopholes. It’s hard, y’all, being a writer! I get it! Anyway, the burgeoning romance in this book made me feel all gooey inside and I can’t wait to read the sequel (which is now out!) to find out what happens next!

Just Playing by Ingela Bohm – I love the way Ingela Bohm writes. I can clearly see every single one of her scenes like they are playing out on a screen in front of my eyes. And the way she twists and evokes feelings–gah, my heart. The cover is sexy, yes, but what’s inside is truly divine. This book, set in the UK in 1975, feels so real that it almost physical hurts. I haven’t read the second book in the series yet, mainly because I know it’s going to hurt so good, too. If you haven’t read Ingela before, I recommend her whole-heartedly. Last year her book Rival Poet was in my top reads of the year.

Tournament of Losers by Megan Derr – There’s just something about the way Megan Derr writes her fantasy novels that feels like pulling on a soft sweater and sipping tea in a comfy chair. I always know I’m going to enjoy them in a deep, comforting, wonderful way. So I tend to save them as rewards for myself. I held this book for well over a year before I deemed myself sufficiently productive enough to be allowed to read it. And it was every bit as enjoyable as I hoped it would be. It hit all the tropes of arranged marriages and a tournament to win the hand of a prince, etc. It was just lovely. Recommended!

Six of Crows by Leigh Bardugo – An excellent Young Adult fantasy book with magic and pain and angst and oh my goodness that cliff hanger ending! The second book is out, though, so you can read it right away if you’d like. As for me, I finished this one and bought the second one, but put it aside for a time when I could handle the darkness again. This isn’t a pretty book, but it sure is a good one. Recommended.

 

His Royal Secret by Lilah Pace – Oh, yes, delicious sex scenes and some more forbidden love to round out the list. I enjoyed this one and the sequel very much and recommend it as a comfort read to anyone who enjoys some fun gay romance.

 

And that finishes up my Favorite Books of 2017 list! I hope you had a good reading year, too!

Cross-posted to: https://steemit.com/reading/@leta-blake/leta-blake-s-top-reads-of-2017

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“The audio is fantastic, and had me engaged throughout. I almost didn’t mind my commutes, knowing I’d spend more time with that textured voice relating Christopher and Jesse’s mutual heartbreaks and mutual passion. I cried, y’all!”

via Heard Great Things! SMOKY MOUNTAIN DREAMS Audiobook review and Giveaway!

Public Offerings

1) Announcing Random Shorts

2) What to expect in the next 60 Days (posted July 1)

$1+ Offerings

1) Chapters 1 – 7 of of Will & Patrick’s Endless Honeymoon:

2) 52 Weeks of Song posts featuring songs that inspired Smoky Mountain Dreams:

3) Announcement about Will & Patrick Wake Up Married audiobook (it’s back on again!):

4) Yay Beach! A FewPhotos from Our Beach Trip

5) 52 Weeks of Song posts featuring songs that inspired Training Complex:

$5+ Offerings

Everything above PLUS:

1) Training for Fireworks (a 4th of July story, Matty/Rob, Training Season):

Part 1:

Part 2:

2) Tracking what I’ve accomplished since sending Slow Heat to the editor in March:

http://bit.ly/2tBt6NN

3) Vacation post plus a ton of pics in the comments:

http://bit.ly/2uVkr96

4) Sample Scene from the Christmas Book I’m drafting:

5) A few other short announcement posts about the timing of things and what to expect from Training for Fireworks.

$10+ Offerings

Everything above PLUS:

1) Why I Write Flawed Characters: a post about what drives me to write characters like Matty and Nicky and Zach, etc.

2) Discussion of Training for Fireworks and how I’d have done it differently if preparing the story for publication outside of Patreon:

http://bit.ly/2unlmhh

3) But That’s Not How It Works… a post about how my characters’ choices don’t feel like authorial choices to me, amongst other ramblings:

4) Extra Beach Pic:

5) Feeling Thrown: in which I talk about some upsetting news about a friend and how that changes my plans for the year:

http://bit.ly/2tRMiSZ

6) Update on Feeling Thrown

http://bit.ly/2uMQUy7

And that basically recaps July! I’ve got more coming fore all in August! We’d love to have you join us! Come aboard! 😀

So happy with this wonderful review from Top2Bottom Reviews! Thank you!

NOW AVAILABLE AT KOBO, iTUNES, NOOK, and AMAZON.

The Difference Between, written under a new pen name reserved for darker or challenging themes, should be read with caution. Read the blurb carefully and the trigger warning at the start of the book as well. While this book isn’t an easy read, I do consider it one of my most romantic books and I’m proud to have it out there. The emails I’ve received from people who have been prompted to seek out help for their traumas after reading the book in order that they may live a more full life going forward have touched me and made me come to realize that while this was a scary thing to release, it was worth it in every way. Thank you to everyone who chooses to go on this journey and thank you to all who don’t as well. Only you know if this is a journey you want to take.

— Leta Blake

 

WHAT’S NEW, LETA?

1) Slow Heat! myBook.to/SlowHeat
2) Training Season audiobook! http://adbl.co/2qGrInD
3) Will &Patrick’s Endless Honeymoon on Patreon! http://bit.ly/2k45lcm
4) Will & Patrick in Kindle Unlimited! http://amzn.to/2qK9vtj

***

Let’s talk about Will & Patrick’s Endless Honeymoon. It will be available to $1+ patrons at my Patreon account as a thank you for their generosity and support. Without them, the Training Season audiobook wouldn’t have happened, and the Will & Patrick audiobooks wouldn’t be on their way.

In order to get access to this continuation of Will & Patrick’s story on June 9, 2017, you can join my Patreon with a $1 monthly pledge (or more). The story will be posted as a chapter a week and it will be unedited. Eventually, when I have the funds and time, I’ll pay for edits on the story and put it out on Amazon, but, for now, it will be available only to patrons for the foreseeable future.

***

 

Let’s talk about the Training Season audiobook! Narrated brilliantly by Michael Ferraiuolo, it is now available on iTunes, Audible, and Amazon. Over twelve hours of Matty goodness available for your ears! 😀

https://letablake.com/2017/06/07/9976/