The Sparkle King VBT

Blurb:

In 2014, Patrick lost his partner, Pack, suddenly and without warning. As he struggled to come to terms with this, he was faced with homophobic prejudice from his partner's family. In horrendous emotional pain and feeling desperately lonely and depressed, he started to use recreational drugs heavily and hit rock-bottom whilst on a trip to Las Vegas.

After being diagnosed with bipolar disorder and getting clean from drugs and alcohol, Patrick thought his fight was over. However, this was not the case. Life had many other obstacles in store for him but this time, he knew how to be strong and he knew he had God on his side for support.

This inspiring and emotive true story shows how anyone can overcome the hurdles life presents them with, if they just have faith and focus on their inner strengths.

Excerpt:

I’ve been sober for nearly four years now. It is here that I have stepped into the power of who I really am. I now allow myself to sparkle. It is in this space of love and light that I’ve fallen in love with the man I really am. And that means I protect myself from pain. Yes, it still finds me. Life is life. Life is hard. Pain is an unavoidable byproduct of it. But it is not allowed to ruin me anymore.

Because I now stand firm in the power and strength of my sparkle, I get to work on pain the minute I feel it start to seep into my body. I used to let it hang out, take over and basically encompass me. Now I let it in just enough to feel it. That way I am reminded that I need to heal it, so that I can move on and keep growing in the direction of my dreams. Pain gets in; light comes out.

That doesn’t mean it doesn’t get overwhelming. For a few weeks at the end of last year, it seemed like everything was falling apart: a dishonest publicist stole money from me and almost ended my literary career. But the power of my dream and my desire to share the gift of my sparkle overruled his act of sabotage. It just made me work harder.

Enjoy the Silence

The last day my best friend did drugs I found a large feather in the center of my closet.

I didn’t know this–though looking back I did feel it–but he had been using again for about eight months. It was eight months of not showing up, broken promises, lies, manipulation, cutting remarks, inappropriate comments and sometimes violent rage that he directed at me to mask the pain he must have been feeling inside.

It was eight months of abusive behavior that resulted in the greatest pain and heartbreak of my entire life. His behavior toward me broke me in a way that betrayed me. It clawed at me. It ate at me. For a while, the sticky thickness of this low pulled me into an abyss of sadness and loss that matched how I felt five years prior when I found my lover dead on his bathroom floor.

Only this time I was sober through the whole thing. I endured it all. I felt powerless in a way that I never imagined in long-term sobriety.

I’m the Sparkle King. I have proudly declared myself an overweight, gay, bipolar, drug addict widow abuse survivor because I made the decision to own my flaws so that no one could use them against me anymore. I’m supposed to effortlessly conquer things in the same way I easily sashay through life now that I’ve found my sparkle.

But this pain hung on like an uninvited guest–a dark passenger that hovered and stayed and gnawed and broke and ruined. I couldn’t shake it. It lingered. It pulled. It kicked. It took. It stayed. It took more.

It wasn’t always like this with my friend. For a long time, it was the greatest relationship I had ever had with a man. A straight man, he had always accepted me in a way that made me feel safe and sound. He made me feel seen. Loved. Heard. Understood. Human. The relationship had always been easy, effortless, fun, and joyful–even whimsical. In it he had given back years of bullying and abuse by just being present, nurturing and loving.

I know I never loved anyone more for this healing. Drugs ruin everything.

This gift of friendship–of brotherhood–that I cherished more than anything in the world had become strained, difficult, wretched, mean, cruel and distant. Even worse, whenever I questioned anything or asked why he acted the way he did, he pointed the finger back at me. He said I was acting bipolar. He asked me if I was off my meds. He called me crazy. He said I over-dramatize things. He also attacked my sexuality and made insinuations about my sadness and confusion because I was gay. He told others these things too. Our friends. He took everything that made me feel seen, heard and understood and made it ugly and sinister. This behavior made me feel like everything I believed in and loved was a lie.

Despite this, or maybe because of all this, I upped the ante on my side, offering to do more and more to placate him and keep him happy. It was a lot; and this is how all of his stuff ended up in my closet the last day he did drugs. I had let him put it there because he had nowhere else to put it when he moved back in to a halfway house. 

For several weeks after his relapse admission, every time we interacted, we ended up screaming at each other. The relationship that I loved more than anything was severing, maybe even severed. Several people in our lives had suggested we take a break from each other, so I initiated that. That’s when the pain I described before set in and almost smothered me.

A few weeks in to this break, we were forced to see each other at an event we were co-chairing. Our relationship had begun because I had given him his first service commitment in our shared 12 step program and he had said he had a spiritual experience as a result. He was grateful for me. But on this day, his cold, ungrateful, demanding behavior and blatant disrespect toward me hurt so much I walked away from the event in the middle of it. He had finally taken away the very thing that had cemented our bond in the first place by insinuating I didn’t know how to do the very service work that had initiated our friendship. This time, instead of fighting, I said nothing. I walked away in silence. I have stayed that way since.

When we make space for silence, we give God room to help us find peace, renewal, self-love, clarity gratitude, grace, guidance and forgiveness. Silence is where the great work happens. It’s a resting space to make the flower bloom more beautifully.

And in the silence, I remembered the feather I found in my closet that day and took back my power.

I asked him to get his stuff out of my closet. I had a mutual friend take him there and help him while I was in school so that I could honor my decision to choose silence. When I got home from school, I walked in my bedroom and marveled at my empty closet. With a single decisive move that honored myself, I felt myself stepping into my sparkle again. I realized that I was powerless over this situation and that it was time to let go. Cleaning out my closet was an act of cleansing, a purification that led to my healing, allowing myself to grieve without the pain of uncertainty. I felt peace for the first time in months. And I realized something that helped me move toward acceptance: The heart wants what it wants, but if it keeps driving you toward someone who constantly hurts you, you need to do the work and break it yourself before they break you.

Standing in my now empty closet, I found a pair of sparkly shoes I had bought almost two years prior. I had always been saving them for a special occasion like Oprah or something.

As these beautiful shoes glimmered in the stillness of my empty closet, I made the decision that I was the special occasion I had been saving these shoes for. I was Oprah. I can be anything I want to be because I love myself. These shoes remind me who I really am: bright, beautiful, resilient, amazing, magnificent, special, joyful and exciting and fun. 

I put the new (old) shoes and made the decision to walk out of this darkness that knocked me off my game for a minute. I decided to walk toward peace, renewal, self-love, clarity gratitude, grace, guidance and forgiveness. I decided to enjoy - and embrace - the silence.

I’m still not talking to my best friend, though he remains in my prayers. I know his behavior was because of drugs; and I know that’s not who he really is.  I also know that what was the most beautiful thing I ever experienced in my life was true in that moment and that it may not be in this moment, but that doesn’t mean that it wasn’t. I can accept that, let go and move toward a new beginning that might be even more beautiful. It might even be with him again. Or not.

In this new power, I will bask and dance in the joy and even gratitude I found as a result of surviving yet another storm; and I will sparkle brighter than I ever have before. 

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Author Bio and Links:

Patrick A. Roland is a gay, bipolar, ex-drug addict, widowed abuse survivor and the author of three great books. His first, Unpacked Sparkle: a Story of Grief and Recovery, kicks off his journey of sobriety and self-love following the death of his partner, Pack, in January 2014. This book was published by Az Publishing and is available on Amazon.

His second book is a children’s book called Sparkle On! This book is about a gecko who is constantly constant bullied but chooses to fight this with love.

His new book, The Sparkle King, keeps the sparkle flowing as Patrick finds his way through several fear-inducing experiences by constantly choosing faith to overcome them in long-term sobriety.

Patrick lives in Phoenix, AZ. He is a peer support at a mental health clinic, where he helps others just like himself. He’s also earning a Master’s in Addiction Counselling at Grand Canyon University and is taking care of his elderly, terminally ill parents. He wants you to know you can do anything you decide to do if you love yourself. 

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The Hierophant's Daughter VBT

Blurb:

By 4042 CE, the Hierophant and his Church have risen to political dominance with his cannibalistic army of genetically modified humans: martyrs. In an era when mankind's intergenerational cold wars against their long-lived predators seem close to running hot, the Holy Family is poised on the verge of complete planetary control. It will take a miracle to save humanity from extinction.

It will also take a miracle to resurrect the wife of 331-year-old General Dominia di Mephitoli, who defects during martyr year 1997 AL in search of Lazarus, the one man rumored to bring life to the dead. With the Hierophant's Project Black Sun looming over her head, she has little choice but to believe this Lazarus is really all her new friends say he is--assuming he exists at all--and that these companions of hers are really able to help her. From the foulmouthed Japanese prostitute with a few secrets of her own to the outright sapient dog who seems to judge every move, they don't inspire a lot of confidence, but the General has to take the help she can get.

After all, Dominia is no ordinary martyr. She is THE HIEROPHANT'S DAUGHTER, and her Father won't let her switch sides without a fight. Not when she still has so much to learn.

The dystopic first entry of an epic cyberpunk trilogy, THE HIEROPHANT’S DAUGHTER is a horror/sci-fi adventure sure to delight and inspire adult readers of all stripes.

Excerpt:

VIII

Miki Soto

What couldn’t a person access from the Japanese Internet? The question inspired Dominia to get out of the bathtub for another look at the card. There was no address, whether web or physical, as there hadn’t been an address on the ad floating across that billboard; instead, when she studied the lotus embossed upon the card, the DIOX-I highlighted it as though it were a link. How fascinating, this augmented reality! After fixing the device’s settings back to manual control, she “clicked” on the link with an unsteady wink, and her right field of vision was covered by the floating window of a browser. Had she cochlear implants, she would have heard some sort of music, or even a voice accompanying the woman’s writhing in and out of the browser’s dark: less a whole person, and more a disembodied assortment of lips, fingers, lower backs, and thighs. At last, the vision disappeared to present her with the crimson words, “WELCOME TO THE RED MARKET.”

A button appeared: “Connect Your Halcyon for Age Verification.” The idea of giving the women of the international and highly loathed illegal organization any information might have stopped her in a simpler time, as it surely stopped 70 percent of potential Red Market customers—the ones able to access the site, anyway, inaccessible from Europa and the Front through traditional routes. That had been all the Hierophant could do to combat in any meaningful way the world’s oldest profession-cum-cult. Far trickier than hampering Internet access was controlling in-person transactions in gold or silver, or the off-brand cryptocurrency, Redcoin; and because there were almost no freelance prostitutes left in the world, catching a working girl was difficult.

Any weird things you do when you’re alone?

Do psychedelics count?  No, really, I’m a very responsible citizen. Probably the weirdest thing I do is dabble in the esoteric arts, but that, like all things, is an extension of my writing.

What is your favorite quote and why?

Too hard! I don’t think I have one particular favorite quote—at least, it shifts all the time. But if I had to pick one it’s usually “A paranoid is someone who knows a little of what's going on.” William S. Burroughs.

Who is your favorite author and why?

If you had asked me six months ago I would have still said Nabokov, but this past year I’ve read Gene Wolfe’s Book of the New Sun and about 10 Philip K. Dick novels. I’m going to have to give it to either one of those fine fellows—Wolfe because his prose is just stunning, and his stories elevate me to another plane of existence. His prose had a really positive impact on The Disgraced Martyr Trilogy, because I read it while in the early phases of the editing process. But PKD was a visionary genius whose echoes are felt in all sci-fi to this day, whether literature or film.

What, in your opinion, are the most important elements of good writing?

There’s a balance of linguistic flow and plot pacing which must be delicately struck. I don’t have patience for writers who wander off for ten paragraphs telling me about a field of flowers, but I also lack patience for authors who hasten through all their descriptions and give barren, staggered sentences. I love Chuck Palahniuk but I think he has a lot of imitators in the adult fiction world right now, and they’re not all as good as he is.

Where did you get the idea for this book?

My biggest goal with this story was to give the vampire back its fangs. The archetype has been one linked to romance and sexuality since before Stoker, but I feel from a social standpoint we’ve neglected the horrific aspects of the figures for about a decade now. Is that healthy for us? I don’t really know. I’ve talked about it elsewhere so I won’t ramble here, but the first thing I wanted to do was to push vampires, or something like vampires, back into the arena of actual horror. And what’s more horrific than outright cannibalism? One step beyond the romantic blood-drinking of Dracula—but, at the same time, the horrific aspects of the martyr race in The Disgraced Martyr Trilogy are still couched in this psychosexual atmosphere, and, when it comes to the Holy Martyr Church, a religious atmosphere. I guess I wanted to explore our Western cultural tendency toward fetishization—of celebrity heroes and villains, of violence, of religion, of even our monsters—and how important it is that we examine our urge to that.

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Author Bio and Links:

M.F. Sullivan is the author of Delilah, My Woman, The Lightning Stenography Device, and a slew of plays in addition to the Trilogy. She lives in Ashland, Oregon with her boyfriend and her cat, where she attends the local Shakespeare Festival and experiments with the occult. Find more information about her work (and plenty of free essays) at https://www.paintedblindpublishing.com!

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Shape of Secrets Review Tour

Blurb:

Seven year old Zane vowed to become a superhero. As a child too smart to fit in, he studied chameleons and muscle groups to learn to alter his appearance.

Now Zane is starting his first job at Penthes Pharmaceuticals, where he finds layers of corporate secrets and learns that knowledge is dangerous. Good thing he excels at blending in.

Once upper management discovers him, life gets more complicated. A sales trip to the South Pacific leaves Zane dealing with an unsolved murder, an unsavory boot camp manager, and new friends with abilities as surprising as his own and with problems far worse.

Zane wants to help them all. First, however, he has a few work-related issues to handle. Someone at Penthes will kill to protect mysteries the company has worked so hard to keep hidden. He has to figure out who, and then use his unique talents to stay alive.

Excerpt:

As one boy came close to the bushes where he hid, Zane saw his own bare foot sticking out over the orange-brown soil. He dare not move it, so he thought hard about his foot and tried to flatten it tight against the ground.

The skin on his foot had started to burn and itch, and an alarmed Zane saw his foot was blushing. At least, it had turned an orange brown that mimicked the dirt. It had been his first inkling he could do more than make his body's shape twist and warp. Zane watched his orange brown foot in fascination while the neighbor boy ran by.

Every so often after that, Zane's skin would surprise him in the same way his muscles did. He could feel a color change coming, but didn't know how to control it. He figured he needed a wise teacher, like Balthazar.

"Can I learn to do that when I want to, wise one?" he asked his chameleon. He tried to make the feeling he felt when his skin did this. He concentrated hard on his arm. At first nothing happened. Then, yes. He felt the feeling. He made the feeling. His skin went from its normal color to a tan orange.

"You and I are going to be great friends," Zane told Balthazar as his grin widened. "You can teach me ways to fight bullies and you'll be the only one who knows what I can do."

My Review:
4 stars

After reviewing the first and last book in the series, this time it’s on to book 3. As a note, while this is book 2 in the series, it’s not a direct sequel, more like a companion novel set in the same universe. I would definitely recommend reading the entire series in order though since there are people and events here that do come up later in the series.

As I’ve said before, I love the amount of research this author puts into her books. The worlds and backstories she builds come to life because of it, and I learn something new every time I read one of her books.

I also loved the characters. This book is focused on multiple storylines and characters, and the mystery is how they all fit together. Plus, then there’s the actual mystery plot, which once it started going, kept me on the edge of my seat.

Which bring me to the main downside again: the pacing. The book was slow to start, and with all the different storylines and characters, there was a lot going on, which made it hard to focus at times. Some judicious editing and cutting down on content would have helped the story flow more smoothly.

All in all, I’m still enjoying this series, and recommend it to sci-fi fans or anyone looking for something different.

*I received a copy of this book in exchange for an honest review.*

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Author Bio and Links:

Sherrie Roth grew up in Western Kansas thinking there was no place in the universe more fascinating than outer space. After her mother vetoed astronaut as a career ambition, she went on to study journalism and physics in hopes of becoming a science writer.

She published her first science fiction short story long ago, and then waited a lot of tables while she looked for inspiration for the next story. When it finally came,  it declared to her it had to be a whole book, nothing less. One night, while digesting this disturbing piece of news, she drank way too many shots of ouzo with her boyfriend. She woke up thirty-one years later demanding to know what was going on.

The boyfriend, who she had apparently long since married, asked her to calm down and  explained how, in a fit of practicality, she had gone back to school and gotten a degree in geophysics and spent the last 28 years interpreting seismic data in the oil industry. The good news, according to Mr. Cronin, was that she had found it to be entertaining and ridiculously well-paying. The bad news was the two of them had still managed to spend almost all of the money.

She was now Mrs. Cronin, and further good news was that they had produced three wonderful children whom they loved, even though, to be honest, that was where a lot of the money had gone. Even better news was that Mr. Cronin turned out to be a warm-hearted, encouraging sort who was happy to see her awake and ready to write. "It's about time," were his exact words.

Sherrie Cronin discovered that over the ensuing decades Sally Ride had already managed to become the first woman in space and apparently had done a fine job of it. No one, however, had written the book that had been in Sherrie's head for decades. The only problem was, the book informed her it had now grown into a six book collection. Sherrie decided she better start writing it before it got any longer. She's been wide awake ever since, and writing away.

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Treasure Hunting for a Good Time

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Derrick NBtM

Blurb:

In Hyde Park, a movie theater erupts in flames on a bitterly cold November evening.

It seems like a job for the fire department, but under Captain Creighton’s direct orders, Detective Gavin Nolan and his partner, Derrick Williamson, must investigate. Arriving on the chaotic scene, they find multiple fatalities —but one of the victims is most peculiar…

Gavin soon discovers that this fire wasn’t the first of its kind. The arsonist has set ablaze other buildings around Chicago, and more female victims left in the same gruesome state have been discovered.

Gavin and Derrick determine that the arsonist is not an arsonist at all—but a sinister serial killer with an agenda.

Juggling the unexpected events in his personal life, Gavin digs into the locations of the explosions. At the same time, Derrick probes into the victims’ lives, searching for any possible connection. 

However, when the next explosion occurs, the killer leaves behind a significant object, and Derrick becomes noticeably reserved. Gavin soon uncovers an enigmatic link, one that points to Derrick’s military past. A time that his partner had wished to forget. Yet, to catch the vicious maniac, Derrick must tell Gavin everything.

In a suspenseful, gripping ride to the end, it is up to Gavin to rescue his partner from the clutches of a  killer. But will he make it in time?

WARNING: This book contains graphic scenes, explicit language, and violent sexual situations.

Excerpt:

The Opus Theater was a gouged-out smoldering shell of a building, resembling a nefarious beast defeated at the hands of a mob of local villagers. Its massive first-floor entrance breathed out the last of the smoke, the toothy marquee scarred with black soot. Above, its blackened window-eyes stared down upon the people menacingly. As Gavin ambled closer, avoiding the other officers, a gripping scent of chemicals, fabric, and noxious gas filtered into his nostrils, then wafted away with the wind. Next to the theater, a pair of smaller sibling buildings, a shoe business and a comic magazine shop, were scarred and smoldering as well. Even from here, Gavin could make out the shattered glass sparkling grimly against the siren lights.

As he had seen on the news, the fire trucks clustered near the front of the buildings. The crews were already wrapping up their gear, and one was lowering its long ladder. Firemen dashed from the trucks into the dark façade of the building, being swallowed up by the dying beast. Other men tugged on the thick gray hoses that were haphazardly tossed around on the street. Already, pockets of ice were forming on the standing water and small icicles began to grow from the edges of the building. Gavin carefully stepped over the hoses, which reminded him of ripped-out intestines from the gut of the savage beast, and tried to get out of the firemen’s way.

Hastily, a fireman rushed past him and knocked him slightly. Grunting an apology, the man kept talking into his radio and rounded one of the trucks. The smell of smoke invaded Gavin’s nostrils once again.

From behind him, Derrick shouted, “About time you fucking got here.”

Choosing the City of Chicago as a Setting

Even from the very moments of the opening scenes, DERRICK transports the reader to the heart of Chicago. Throughout the book, various locations around the city and iconic destinations, the reader will admire the beauty and even darkness of Chicago. In Book 1 of the Gavin Nolan Trilogy, GAVIN immerses the reader in the vibrancy of city life.  When I wrote both GAVIN and now DERRICK, Chicago was a just a natural choice as a setting for several reasons.

First and foremost, Chicago has a rich, turbulent history. Between the historic landmarks, the Great Chicago Fire, infamous gangsters, 1893 World’s Fair, and the fated Chicago Stockyards, Chicago was built on determination, dedication and devotion. The city created a unique cityscape in the heart of the Midwest which bridged the East Coast and the West Coast. The beautiful turn-of-the-century architecture, the towering skyscrapers and the futuristic modern glass structures line Michigan Avenue, State Street and Wabash with both reverie and prestige. One can only imagine the streets of the burgeoning city in the Industrial Era, changing landscapes as buildings rose to the heavens in midcentury and the modern expanse circumventing the city to spiral out in the neighborhoods.  In addition, Chicago truly becomes a tertiary character. Echoing New York City and Los Angeles, Chicago’s bustling city life does not cease. Within the subtle shadows of DERRICK and GAVIN, Chicago can be seen as constant moving mechanism as it always stirs at any given point of the day. As you read my books, you will feel this motion of city life through bustling traffic noises, an intoxicating fragrance and busy streets full of people.

On a personal note, I lived in Chicago for nearly two decades. Having been raised in Milwaukee, WI, I didn’t know of any city larger. When I was eleven, my older sister and I travelled to Chicago, which had a profound effect on me. The grandeur and beauty of the city stole my imagination, and even then, I was instantaneously smitten for Chicago’s zeal of life. About fifteen years later, an opportunity rose for relocating to Chicago, which I grabbed immediately. With much excitement and trepidation, I became immersed in the city by touring and visiting as many sites, locations, museums and neighborhoods throughout the area. My admiration for Chicago comes out through Derrick’s poignant moments in the book.

Even though I currently live in South Texas, and had lived in Upstate New York, I often go back to my pseudo-hometown of Chicago and admire the beautiful glass and steel scenery. The city gives me a sense of wonder and awe. Each time when I see the beautiful city scape, I feel the goosebumps rise on my arms, and become memorized by the beauty.

Please check out both GAVIN and DERRICK today. Currently, I am working on the final part QUINN. Also, follow me on Instagram, Twitter and Facebook.

Read to Escape!

Russell

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Author Bio and Links:

Russell has been writing for the majority of his life. Slipping into alternative universes allows him to enjoy the process of creativity from the novel’s conception to its final draft. Currently, he lives in South Texas with his wife, two kids and several cats.

DERRICK is a 2018 Winner in the New Apple Literary Awards, receiving Official Selection in Psychological Suspense.

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For Fox Sake Book Blast

Blurb:
Tate and Clay's newest case has all the earmarks of typical investigative work: lies, deception, collusion, and a dead body - except the body was found in Fetish Alley, and nothing that happens there is typical.


Excerpt:

Tate sat beneath the covers, his iPad propped up against raised knees as he scrolled down the screen. His brow furrowed as Clay climbed in next to him. “Look at this. Rick’s sent me the police report from Dixon’s case. No one could find them earlier in the station. He made a stink about it and hey, presto. Now we have it.”

Clay picked up his reading glasses from the bedside table, unfolded them, and perched them on his nose. “What am I looking at?” he enquired, peering over at the tablet.

Tate’s finger moved across the screen as he pointed out areas of interest. “The man who alerted the cops didn’t find the body himself. He saw a severed hand, and what appeared to be a costume, then called the cops.”

Clay blinked. “But Dixon wasn’t missing any hands.”

Tate nodded. “I know. Turns out it was a prop, something used in a previous production of who knows what. The place was full of old stage stuff.” He ran his finger across another area of the report. “The cops checked it out, just in case, and they were the ones who discovered the real live body.” He sniggered. “Well, not live, but you know what I mean.”

Clay did. His partner’s dark and often twisted sense of humour was entertaining even if sometimes it bordered on being downright scary.

Tate frowned. “They found Dixon in the basement, still dressed in his fox costume. He must have had his suit on underneath, because, look here.” Tate pointed to what looked like an amateur mobile phone shot. “There’s a cufflink right there.”

Clay leaned in and sure enough, there was a gold cufflink in the shape of a fox in the right shirt cuff. “Hmm,” he mused. “The report says he’d collapsed there on the spot. Then the doctor on scene confirmed it looked like a heart attack and that was it. No bloody post-mortem or anything.” He rubbed his chin thoughtfully. “He must have been boiling in his suit and the costume. I suppose it was a cold night, and it was raining, so that might explain it. I’d be interested as to why no one saw a man dressed as a fox walking down to the theatre. I mean it’s not that far from the club, but the area is populated.”

Tate nodded. “I wondered about the lack of witnesses too. Someone should have seen something. And how could the cops not find the death suspicious, even a little, when the man was wearing a fox costume over his suit?”

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About the Author:

Susan writes steamy, sexy and fun contemporary romance, some suspenseful, some gritty and dark, almost all M/M, and some stories that she hopes makes you think. She’s also Editor in Chief at Divine Magazine, an online LGBTQ e-zine, and a Charity Board trustee at The Being Me Campaign in London.

Susan attained PAN status with the Romance Writers of America with her first M/M book, Stripped Bare. She’s currently a member of The Society of Authors in the UK, and the Authors Guild in the US. She enjoys being a member of Queer Romance Ink, All Author, Book + Main Bites and the Paranormal Romance Guild.

The ‘Unofficial’ stuff

She loves going to the theatre, live music concerts (especially if it’s her man crush Adam Lambert) walks in the countryside, a good G &T, lazing away afternoons reading a good book, and watching re-runs of Silent Witness.

Her chequered past includes being mistaken for a prostitute in the city of Johannesburg, being chased by a rhino on a dusty Kenyan road, getting kicked out of a youth club for being a ‘bad influence’ (she encourages free thinking), and having an aunt who was engaged to Cliff Richard.

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Black Waltz Review Tour

Blurb:

As a Black Waltz—a magical ballet dancer—Stella Azrith appears to all as a composed, no-nonsense sorceress of notable talent. Yet she is deeply dependent on her muse for far more than most artists, complicating her relationships. Nyte Lysander is a suave, emotional cellist who once struggled in her obsession to stay in Stella’s world. She and Stella find one another again after a tumultuous breakup, needing the other for reasons warped beyond the norm. Black Waltz is a sprawling urban fantasy romance set 350 years after The Scorpion’s Empress and 100 years after Venus and Lysander, concluding the trilogy. Can be read as a standalone.

Searching for acceptance, Stella and Nyte learn to understand each other anew, strained only by disagreements past and unspoken. Nyte’s living situation in the crime-ridden district of Maleficus in the city of Eden pushes her and Stella to pursue better artistic opportunities elsewhere. As they toy with the idea of exploring a power play relationship, they learn about a greater evil that threatens the Azrith and Lysander families. The true enemy twists on its head through whirling rainstorms, driving Stella and Nyte to prove who and what they stand for.

There can be no waltz for three.

Excerpt:

I had to stop myself from pulling Nyte inside with me.

“So…” she trailed off. “Stella…what do you wanna do—” Nyte gestured between us; “—about this?”

And yet I had to be honest with her.

“I miss you,” I admitted.

“You do…?”

I reached up, wrapping my arms about Nyte’s lean shoulders. I palmed the space between her shoulder blades with one hand; the back of her head with the other, trailing my nails through her short hair. The smoothness of her slicked back locks was such a lovely contrast to the precise, trimmed strands of her fade along the sides.

Nyte moved into me as she held my waist. She let me cradle her head in my hand, backward, as she breathed along my ear. I heard her comfort. I listened to the way she lost herself in my hold. I felt the slight tremble of her body against mine. Nyte tried to control herself, now that she had fallen past her pride.

As much as I loved this, I couldn’t linger here. Conflicting forces worked to confuse me. I wanted Nyte. I wanted her.

But I couldn’t live in both worlds: here, in this undeniable closeness with her, and there, onstage, or practicing, or simply in my room, fantasizing about all the ways I knew how to express myself with dance. The one thing that drove me, that moved me, was my muse, as the one flame that burned endlessly within me.

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Author Bio and Links:

Yoshiyuki Ly was born in San Diego, CA. Her pen name represents her multiracial heritage and a unique, diverse outlook that reflects in her work. She is a writer and a gamer, primarily inspired by thought-provoking, well-written video games such as the Shin Megami Tensei, NieR, and Drakengard franchises.

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