P.G. Forte's Blog, page 30

Musical Monday: Nessun Dorma (Puccini)

 

Welcome to Oberon releases tomorrow, so I wanted to post a song that I'd listed on one of the playlists for the first three books. There are a lot of them, and I wasn't sure which one to pick, then I happened to see the video below, and that decided me. 
I actually listened to A LOT of Puccini while I was writing Oberon. I'm not sure why, exactly. I listened to a lot of different music. Nessun Dorma has always been one of my favorites. It's just so ineffably beautiful. I grew up listening to a lot of opera--my father's entire family sang. But my earliest recollection of this song was from the movie Yes, Georgio, which featured Pavarotti. I remember NOTHING about the movie, but THIS SONG, which I've always felt is far too short. It needs to be at least six times longer. 
Anyway, OBVIOUSLY I wasn't listening to this version of the song while I wrote Oberon, but flash mobs were a big thing back then, and this one takes place in a bookstore! Also, Jonathan Tetelman is gorgeous and someone needs to write a romance book with a hero who looks (and hopefully sings) just like him. 
 




And now, here's the "Nessun Dorma" excerpt from A Sight to Dream Of:

Daylight was dying in the air when Marsha arrived at the cabin. It was still a little early in the day for a full moon ceremony, but she just couldn’t handle the trip both ways in the dark. It would be hard enough driving back, but her need to come here tonight—to ground herself and find peace and balance—had overwhelmed even the fear she harbored of being on the road at night.

It was Alex’s fault. Try as she might to forget about the scene with him earlier this evening, she had not been able to let go of the nasty, painful emotions he had stirred up. Grief and loneliness had roiled around inside her all evening, pushing her ever closer to the edge of a seemingly bottomless well of despair. Even after all this time, even after all her vows of indifference, he still could get to her. She was still tied to him with emotional threads she had woven herself—with spells and prayers and incantations. Threads she couldn’t seem to sever no matter how badly she might want to.  

Never again, she swore, taking a couple of slow, deep breaths. Never again would she make herself so vulnerable. Never again would she allow herself to become so dependent on anyone that the fear of losing them would lead her to make the kinds of mistake she had made with Alex.

Never again would she use magic to hold someone—she’d seen firsthand the damage it could do.

As she stepped out of the van she was practically knocked over by swells of music—lovely and otherworldly—pouring from the cabin.  She wandered around to the back, following the sounds; seduced, not just by the beauty of the music, but by the purity of the tenor voice, singing words in a language she did not recognize, but which moved her almost to tears, nonetheless.  

As she rounded the corner, she saw Sam sitting on the back step, eyes closed, lost in the music—like Merlin enchanted by Nimue. Reluctant to break the spell, she waited, watching him, as the music eddied and swirled about them both, rising at last to a sweeping crescendo, before ending, almost too abruptly.

Sam opened his eyes and stared at her for a long time without speaking. She was startled into immobility by the intensity of his gaze. After a moment, he relaxed back against the doorframe with a sigh, and veiled his eyes again as if he were shutting out the sight of her.  

“Hey,” he said, breaking the silence at last.  His voice sounded harsh, as if it had not been used in days.

“Hi. That music...what is it?”

“Nessun Dorma,” he answered, not opening his eyes. “Puccini, of course. It’s from Turandot.”

“Oh. It’s very beautiful.”   

“Yes, it is.” His mouth quirked upwards in a wry smile. “And believe it or not, I usually find it very calming.”

“But not tonight?” she asked curiously.

“No. Not tonight.” 

She was suddenly aware of the rigidity in his posture, the tension that shimmered in the air around him. He didn’t want her here, she felt certain of it. Disappointment pressed on her heart with a crushing weight.

“I-I’m sorry,” she stammered. “I know I’m probably interrupting your evening, coming here like this and…I’ll be out of here as quickly as I can. I’ll try to stay out of your way and—”

“Marsha,” he interrupted her, his eyes open again, the ghost of a smile flitting across his face. “You’re not going to be in my way tonight. I promise.” He got to his feet, and stood, irresolute. “So, a Mabon ceremony, huh? Out there in the glade?” His glance strayed to the ring of trees at the back of the property. “Sounds like fun.”

“Yes. Well, no, not fun exactly. It’s a spiritual ceremony, and...” Her voice trailed off as another thought struck her. Oh, dear heaven, he wasn’t going to ask to watch, was he? She’d feel guilty turning him down, but at the same time, there was no way she could let him stay.  

“Oh. I suppose you’ll want some privacy?” 

“Yes,” she breathed gratefully.  

He nodded and pulled open the door. “Okay, well, let me know if you ah, need anything.” He flashed her a wry smile as he disappeared into the cabin.

“I will. Thanks,” she whispered to the empty air. She stared at the closed door for a long moment, before heading back to the van for the supplies she’d brought with her.

Ever wish you could find a small-town love story with magic, mystery, a huge cast of characters and a happy ending? How about an entire series like that? 
Welcome to Oberon, California. Where murder and mysticism combine. Where the focus is always on friends, families and feelings. And where love will save the day…eventually.

Welcome to OberonOmnibus One: Books 1 - 3
https://books2read.com/Welcome-to-Oberon ​

Three connected tales of love, murder, mystery...all set in a mystical small town where anything might happen.

 

Contains the first three books of the Oberon series:

 

Scent of the Roses

A Sight to Dream Of

Sound of a Voice That is Still. 

Second Chances, Friends to Lovers, Opposites Attract, Hurt-Comfort, Age Gap, Betrayal, Suspense.

Romance Writers Weekly ~ Writing Goals 2024 ~ #LoveChatWrite

 This week, on the Romance Writers Weekly blog hop, we're asked, "How many books (stories) do you plan to write in 2024? Is this the same or different from previous years?"
This should be a simple question, right? After all, it's just math. Somehow it's not that simple. I actually wrote about this in last week's newsletter . 
See, the last couple of years, I've overreached a little...or, you know, A LOT! I signed up for too many anthos and collaborations and then had to bail on some of them. This year, I was trying to cut back on my commitments, but with a dozen books being re-released, it doesn't feel like cutting back at all!
Last year, I think I wound up writing and releasing three new books. And re-releasing...five? This year, I'm almost tripling the number of re-releases while attempting to finish four new books. Which is...still a lot.
I guess I'll see how it goes! If you want to track my progress, sign up for my newsletter!
  https://www.pgforte.com/newsletter

Now, hop on over to Jenna Da Sie's page  to learn about her writing plan for 2024. 

Releasing in One Week!
Welcome to OberonOmnibus One: Books 1 - 3​

Three connected tales of love, murder, mystery...all set in a mystical small town where anything might happen.

 

Contains the first three books of the Oberon series:

 

Scent of the Roses

A Sight to Dream Of

Sound of a Voice That is Still. 
Second Chances, Friends to Lovers, Opposites Attract, Hurt-Comfort, Age Gap, Betrayal, Suspense.
Now available for Pre-Order!

https://books2read.com/Welcome-to-Oberon

Musical Monday: Carole King Now and Forever.

Here's a song that I listened to a lot when I was working on Scent of the Roses. But it feels particularly apropos for this past week which saw the anniversaries of my Mother and Mother-in-law's passing (six years ago and eleven years ago--although I swear it feels like two or three. At most!). They died exactly five years and two days apart. Which means this is really not a good week for us.
Oddly enough--or maybe not--I've been missing my dog more than usual. I think because he was such a comfort to me when I was caring for them both. 
Anyway, grief sucks. 
 

Steamy MM FR33 Reads!

 

Check out these FREE Steamy MM Books on Bookfunnel:

https://books.bookfunnel.com/mmfreebies/vu34moeomo

Includes my story, Angel Mine

http://tinyurl.com/Angel-2

Excerpt:  

It’s night now. Or, at least it’s something that looks and sounds and feels convincingly like a night at the lake, even though I’m not altogether convinced time is actually passing—or that there’s an actual lake out there at all. But I can hear the sound of water lapping softly against the dock. Shooting stars blaze lazy trails across the sky. There’s a soft breeze, scented with wood smoke and pine.

It’s pretty damn realistic and romantic as fuck. Which, given the company I’m keeping, is a total waste of ambiance. 

Still, as much as he obviously wants to be rid of me, I can tell Edge feels bad about leaving me here all alone. I guess that’s something. He clearly doesn’t know what else to do with me, however, and I’m no help. I can’t think of another place I want to be either, other than somewhere I’m not dead. And since time travel is, apparently, not an option, he blinks himself away with a thought. 

And there I am: all by myself once more, stretched out on the bed I outgrew in my teens, in a house that no longer exists, wondering who’s been paying to keep the lights on all these years, and how it is that the sheets still smell fresh?

As philosophical questions go, I bet no one’s heard either of those before.

So, here’s another little fact that I managed to pry out of Edge on the subject of limbo. Unlike purgatory where, after you’ve served your time, so to speak, you’re automatically cleared for heaven, limbo has no set timetable. You could be here for a week, a year, an hour. Or you could stay for eternity. No one knows. It all depends on how quickly you clear up your issues. 

Edge won’t say how long he’s been here—shocking, I know. But I get the feeling, from stuff he’s let slip, that it’s been awhile.  And since I can’t even figure out what my issues are yet, I suspect my stay here might also be lengthy.

At least I’ll be in good company, I think in the instant before it occurs to me that I may be completely delusional. I’m stuck here with a man who drags me out to the middle of nowhere without explanation, who snarls at me for no reason, won’t divulge any personal information, and runs when I try to get close. And this is my idea of good company now? Clearly, I’m not only delusional and masochistic, I’ve also lowered my standards.  When did this happen?  Is it an aftereffect of being dead?

If that’s the case, however…it does make me wonder what Edge used to be like before he died. Was he always this surly and uncommunicative? Not that he’d ever tell me, of course.

Edge claims he doesn’t like answering questions about himself because he’s here to help me, not the other way around. I guess that makes some sort of sense. He is older, after all, and more experienced in the ways of the afterlife, so I suppose he figures that’s all the reason he needs to take the lead. But it just doesn’t sit right with me. Competitive remember?  

The way I see it, we’re both in the same situation. He’s not doing any better than I am, so why shouldn’t I give it a try? Or, here’s a compromise for you, why can’t we work together to help each other out? 

I did try to point out that, most of the time, two heads are better than one, but he took it the wrong way—thought I was making a reference to his little head—and got all flustered again. 

Even though it pissed him off, I’d do it again in a heartbeat. It gave me the best laugh I’ve had since I’ve been here.

I suppose I should stop. I should give up on Edge; find someone else; or say the hell with sex and just focus on getting myself out of here. Honestly, I’m not sure why I don’t do exactly that.

Why am I trusting Edge to help me get out of here when he can’t even get himself out?  Even more to the point, why am I wasting time on him at all?

He’s clearly one of those guys who likes to pretend that he isn’t interested, that sex is the last thing on his mind. And I’ve never been one to play those games. Life’s too short, you know? 

Although, I guess that’s no longer an issue, now is it? Besides, I can tell he’s not as indifferent as he wants me to think. Every now and then he lets his guard down. And the yearning I read in his gaze then, the looks he keeps shooting me, so full of heat and hunger, how could I not respond to that? How can I give up on him? How can I see all that potential and just walk away?

I just wish he’d give us a shot. I wish he’d given me one lousy dance. One dance, that’s all it would take. Afterwards, I bet we’d both know exactly where we stood with each other.  

If I close my eyes, I can feel it.  We’re back in the bar, and it’s still just the two of us.  There’s no one to see, or judge, or bother us. The jukebox is playing something sweet and slow. I don’t know what it is, but it sounds exactly right. We’re holding each other close and swaying to the music. No pressure, no tension, no expectations, we’re just two strangers finding comfort in the touch of someone else’s hands on their skin. 

It doesn’t have to be forever. It doesn’t have to be anything more than one, perfect moment. 

I lean in and press my lips to his. He hesitates for just an instant, then a soft sound breaks from his lips. A whimper, a sigh, a moan, a groan—is there even a word to describe it? It doesn’t matter, whatever you call it, it’s the sound of surrender. Then he’s kissing me back, and I know I have him. I know that, for tonight, at least, he’s mine. 

I cup his face in my hands and feel the flare of heat beneath his skin. His hands on my hips pull me tight against him. His cock rubs against mine, both of us hard. 

“Matteo.”  My name on his lips, his voice in my ear, and I can’t tell anymore if any of this is real, or if it’s all a fantasy. 

Alone in my room, I reach into my shorts and free my dick. As I stroke myself, I imagine it’s his lips wrapped around me, that he’s gone to his knees—right there on the dance floor—and taken me in his mouth. 

Our gazes lock, as he sucks me off. Yet I swear his voice is still whispering in my ear. I come hard, laying down stripe after stripe of white hot cum all over the bedspread. 

As I’m dragged back into sweet oblivion, I wonder if the sheets will still smell fresh in the morning?

 

Thankful Thursday post for January 11, 2024

 One of the things I'm most thankful for today is my new(ish) computer. I was finally able to update some of the programs that have been glitching for the past few years and it's DELIGHTFUL. Especially the WORD program. It's SUCH a relief not to have to stop every couple of words and remove the extra letters that the program was randomly throwing into every sentence. 

It was also nice to be able to let my old and new computer handle the transfer of files from one computer to the other all on their own. 
I COULD wish that it hadn't taken ALL WEEKEND for that to happen, but it's all good. And I have a cool, new Sonoma screensaver now, so that's another plus.
It was my son and DIL's anniversary yesterday. I'm thankful for them--and the fact that they produced my wonderful grandson. 
I'm thankful for the weird Texas weather. It's supposed to get pretty cold here in the next few days, but then it's supposed to warm up again. Which, like I said: weird. But, hey, it's better than weeks of cold weather. So, no complaints here. 
And speaking of cold weather, I'm thankful that it's January because there are so many freebies and health challenges and other start-the-new-year-off-right events going on. Not that I'm attending most of them, but I COULD!
Mostly today, I'm thankful that I have a little bit of time free in which to WRITE. I've been neglecting my WIPs shamefully and I REALLY need to get on that, STAT.
So...that's it for now. See you next week!

Romance Writers Weekly ~ Affirmation ~ #LoveChatWrite

 This week, on the Romance Writers Weekly blog hop, we're asked to "Pick a one word affirmation for this year. Tell us why you chose it."
So this is not as easy as it sounds. Unless I take AI's suggestion of creating my own word--Tranquiforce--to combine the idea of equanimity with forward movement. Which, yeah, I'm not doing that.
I guess I'll have to go with Productivity. Which isn't exactly right, either. What I want to achieve this year is to take inspired action in a calm and balanced way and to be productive without overwhelm. There's a lot that I want to accomplish in 2024, but I'd like to do it in a calm, rational, happy and non-stressful way.   
Anyway, that's it for me. Now, hop on over to Jenna De Sie's page to learn what her affirmation is for 2024!

 I think Christmas Angel is the cutest Christmas story I've ever written--and that's saying something, because I love ALL my Christmas stories! It came out unexpectedly sweet--which I did not see coming. It's funny, romantic, VERY Christmasy, and makes me feel hopelessly nostalgic. 

The price is going up soon, but right now you can still get it for only .99!

Christmas AngelAn Angels in the Afterlife Christmas Story​

Being fully transparent is good for a relationship, right? Well, maybe not when it’s literal.

 

Christmas Angel is a second-chance, holiday romance with a celestial twist. Probationary angel Jake Hennessy's been sent back to earth to mend fences with his ex. Or has he? Certainly Tony doesn’t seem to think that's the case. 

 

Tony DiCecco might have ninety-nine problems—and then some—between dealing with his meddlesome family AND running the family business (a Christmas tree farm in rural Texas) but he's pretty sure that playing catch-up with his ex-husband isn’t supposed to be one of them. 

 

And what would even be the point? It’s hard to imagine what kind of future the two of them could have when one of them is alive and the other...isn't.

https://books2read.com/Christmas-Angel

Flashback Friday: Never Have I Ever

 I nearly included Never Have I Ever in my 12 Days of Yule Giveaway because the first chapter (really should have been a prologue, but some people don't read those--go figure) takes place on New Year's Eve. So, instead, I'm posting it here:

Atlas Beach, New Jersey

Two months earlier…

That strip of bare skin across Kristy’s back—the one that appeared in the gap that stretched between the hem of her shirt and her pants’ waistband whenever she bent to get something from beneath the bar, as she was doing right now—had been driving Luke crazy all evening. Working this New Year’s Eve party together—why had he ever thought that was a good idea?

Oh, yeah. The money—she needed the tips as much as the hotel needed the income they were hoping to generate with parties like this. Coupled with that was his sad and pathetic crush on the girl, and his even sadder and more pathetic hope that he might get a chance to sneak a kiss at midnight.

The kiss hadn’t happened. When the balloons had dropped, just a couple of minutes earlier, they’d both been far too busy pouring drinks and making sure everyone’s glasses were topped off for the thought to even enter his head.

The guests were kissing though, especially that one couple on the other side of the bar. They’d locked lips even before the final ten-second countdown had begun, and if they’d come up for air any time since, Luke must have missed it. All around them, people continued to celebrate the new year with toasts and smiles and kisses.

“Hey, bartender, can I get another over here?”

All except for that one guy, the big, bearded ginger sitting alone at the end of the bar, nursing his Guinness. He wasn’t a regular. Luke had no idea who he was or what the guy had thought he was doing coming here tonight. Who went to a New Year’s Eve party alone? Who sat by themselves and drank by themselves—all night—without even trying to connect with anyone else?

“Bartender?” the man repeated.

“Yes, sir,” Luke replied. “Right away.”

But getting the man his beer meant passing behind Kristy, who was still bent over the bar. And that was a problem because all Luke could think about was how it would feel to press close behind her, slide his hand up her back beneath her shirt, and pin her against the polished teak surface of the bar. He could imagine the look of surprise on her face as she’d turn to look at him.

Luke. What are you doing? she’d ask. Maybe she’d sound annoyed with him, as she often did. Or maybe there’d be a hitch in her breathing, a flare of heat in her cheeks. Maybe her eyes would grow dark with desire in that way he’d rarely seen but often fantasized about…

 “Don’t move,” he said, using his other hand to tug at her pants, so curious to discover what type of underwear she had on.

A thong would be hot, but he doubted that was the case. Wouldn’t the strap be visible with her bent over the way she was, her tempting derriere on display? Maybe a pair of bikini panties, then…but on second thought, surely there would be lines, if that were the case?

He glanced again at Kristy’s upturned butt. Could it be…?

“Going commando?” He raised an eyebrow, put on an expression of shocked disapproval. “Have you been a naughty girl this year?”

So, okay, the year was, technically, only a couple of minutes old, and besides, he was a week late for the whole naughty or nice thing, but who could resist the temptation she represented? He pushed his hand deeper into her pants, seeking the wetness that would let him know she was enjoying this game as much as he was.

She wiggled her ass, almost as though she were trying to get away, but her fingers were clenched on the edge of the bar. She rocked her hips, pushing herself more firmly into his hand with every motion until his fingers were sliding back and forth over slick, wet flesh. He leaned in even closer then and whispered, “Do you need a spanking?”

She gave a gasp. “Luke, no. There are people watching!”

Well, that was a given. Of course there’d be people watching. What good was a show without an audience?

“Let ’em watch,” he murmured, stroking harder…

“Hey! Buddy,” the man at the end of the bar barked suddenly. “Think there might be a chance of me getting that beer sometime this year?”

Luke started, coloring as he was jerked back to reality. “Yes, sir,” he replied, shaking his head in an effort to clear away the fantasy.

He headed for the cooler where the beer was stored. “Behind you,” he said as he passed Kristy, his voice so thick with lust, he barely recognized it.

She straightened abruptly and collided against him as she took a startled step backward. Her hair and the scent of her fragrance tickled his nose, and he reached for her without thinking.

“Careful,” he cautioned, instinctively taking hold of her hips to help her regain her balance.

“Luke.” She craned her neck to glance up at him, arching her back a little as she did, so that her butt brushed against his groin. He groaned softly. A faint flush colored her cheeks. “Sorry. I didn’t see you there.”

“No problem,” he said with a weak smile. Impulsively, he leaned in and kissed her cheek. “Happy New Year.”

Kristy’s eyes widened in surprise. “Thanks.” She turned and pressed an all-too-quick kiss on his lips. “You too.”

Oh yeah, baby. Luke slid his arms around her, but Kristy was already pushing out of his grasp.

“What did you need?”

You. Always. Luke was surprised she was asking, surprised it needed to be said—but only for an instant. Then he realized what she was actually asking. He motioned at the tap. “Oh, uh, get me a Guinness. Please.”

Kristy flashed him a tight smile. Then she spun around again, grabbed a pint glass from the rack, and began pouring. He watched her in silent frustration. He should be used to it by now. Kristy DiLuca had been driving him crazy for as long as he’d known her—which was basically all his life.

“Here you go,” she said as she passed him the beer he’d come to get.

“Thanks.” Luke resisted the impulse to brush another kiss against her lips.

Another couple of hours and this party would be over. He could go home and jerk off to yet another fantasy about her. He sighed and shook his head and then went off to deliver the drink. Oh yeah, the New Year was off to a great start. Not.

Never Have I EverGames We Play Book 3.0

Kristy loves Luke but if anything was clear to her back when they were kids it was that gawky, awkward, tomboys didn't stand a chance with the king of the schoolyard. She watched her older brothers set their caps for Luke's glamorous cousins and get shot down. So, she did what she had to in order to salvage her friendship with Luke. She hid her true feelings and her need for him to take control. 

 

Luke wants Kristy in the worst way -- actually, in all the worst ways: tied up, held down, beaten, bitten, whipped. But he knows he has no chance of ever having her. They'd been childhood friends and sweethearts, until she friend-zoned him in the fifth grade. He knows he can either keep her as a friend or take her to bed and lose her forever. His biggest mistake—so far—was in hiring her to work alongside him in the bar he and his cousins inherited from their grandmother. He knows Kristy needs the money and the job, but Luke's self-control can't take the constant contact with the girl he wants to dominate–both in and out of the bedroom. Something has to give—and soon! 
https://books2read.com/NeverEver

Wine Wednesday: Ménage à Trois Midnight

As a general rule, I really enjoy Ménage à Trois wines. As I've mentioned before, I think a lot of that is because I have good associations with the Folie à Deux winery in Napa. However Midnight has always been one of my favorites. I  like red wines that are dark and full bodied and this definitely qualifies. I also tend to like a lot of tannins, which this doesn't have. But that might be in part because the bottle I opened (on Christmas Eve Eve) is from 2019, and is therefore softer than the newer vintages might be. I have several bottles of red wine from the 2010s, and I'm going to have to bite the bullet and start opening them sooner rather than later.
I'm not living in California anymore, so it's always somewhat wrenching to watch my stock get depleted when getting more is no longer a ten minute drive.
But, getting back to the wine. The label talks about black cherry and mocha. To me, the aromas are more raspberry and cocoa and maybe a hint of tobacco. The taste is lovely, very fruit forward. And the finish--ah, there are the tannins!--is dry, with once again a hint of tobacco leaf. 
I  would pair this with a pork roast or turkey. Maybe pumpkin ravioli or stuffed acorn squash. I think beef or anything with tomato sauce would overpower it. 
I probably should have opened it at Thanksgiving. But, as Viriginia Madsen's character says in Sideways, "The day you open a '61 Cheval Blanc, that's the special occasion." And I  suppose the same holds true here. Tonight was the perfect time for me to enjoy it. Cheers!



 
 
 

Tuesday's Tea for January 02, 2024

I could call this post "things that annoy me today" but I like alliteration too much for that. 
First of all, ooh, look. Someone who clearly knows NOTHING WHATSOEVER about Romance has written an article explaining all about it. That's never happened before. 
This one has the most pompous title EVER:
125 Best Romance Books of All Time
I've bitched about it at length here: 
  https://oberoncalifornia.blogspot.com/2024/01/what-im-reading-post-for-wednesday.html
so I'm not going to repeat myself again here other than to say that some of the authors quoted in this article REALLY ought to know better! 
https://parade.com/books/best-romance-books-of-all-time 
My second peeve is the abundance of articles informing us on when the proper time is to take down one's Christmas Tree. And I KNOW: we get them every year. But there seems to be SO MUCH MORE OF THEM this year. Does it come down the day after Christmas?  On New Year's Day? Not until Twelfth Night?
I mean really?  Who cares? I'm definitely Team DoWhateverTheFuckYouWant on this one. 
Finally, there's this. I'm a little concerned, because I'm feeling a definite Lack Of Filters, atm. And the last time that happened was January 2020. And we all know how THAT turned out. So all the articles suggesting DOOM and KARMA and planets doing bad things (looking at YOU Saturn!) and END TIMES...are not giving me happy feels. 
But I will say this: having lived through 1984, Y2K, The End of the Mayan Calendar, the return of both Hale-Bopp AND Hailey's Comet, not to mention the last four years! I refuse to get all that upset again now.  Que será, será.

12 Days of Yule: Day Twelve

Welcome to Day Twelve of the 12 Days of Yule--the final day! The last story I'm sharing is Finders Keepers, which is my only Futuristic Romance to date. And which ends on New Year's Day, so it seemed fitting. 
The book is set in Oakland and the Lake Tahoe area in the “near future” which keeps getting nearer all the time and…maybe not going quite the way I thought it might. 
So, this is definitely more of an alternative future, at this point. Which, let’s be honest, wouldn’t have been such a bad thing! “May you live in interesting times,” my ass!

Here's the download link:
https://dl.bookfunnel.com/2afw0mjyxv

I love playing with tropes and genres and mixing them up together, perhaps in ways they haven’t been before. So, this is a friends to lovers, enemies to lovers, maybe a second-chance romance story with an amnesia subplot since my soldier gets his mind-scrubbed after every mission and has no idea who he originally was. 

You’ve heard of found family (yet another favorite trope of mine)? Well, this book is more about lost family. All the characters have suffered serious losses over the years and need each other this Christmas way more than they know or are willing to admit. But thanks to a little Christmas magic (and Science, of course because Sci-Fi) AND getting snowed-in at an isolated cabin (yay! More tropes!) they just might find their happy ending. 

 

Who am I kidding? It's a romance. OF COURSE, they will!

 

Another thing I love to write about are morally gray characters, and the heroes in this book were not all that good to their partners in the past. One used his bi-sexuality as an excuse for cheating, the other refused to accept that bi-sexuality existed at all (in part because he was in denial about his own nature). 

But the point of this book is not just about how they acted “then” it’s about what they're going to do “now”. Because they’ve changed, they've grown, they've learned some hard lessons over the years. They're not the same people they were back then and--just maybe--this time around, they'll get it right; and then they'll get to keep what they've found.