A window into the afterlife – #CozyMystery #London #Giveaway

Blurb

Most sleuths don’t have the advantage of talking to the murder victim for clues, but Saffron has a window into the afterlife. The problem is, she's not a detective and has no wish to be.

In the charming heart of London’s Notting Hill, Saffron juggles motherhood, running an animal welfare foundation, and counseling recently deceased spirits—the invisibles. But her peaceful routine is upended when a spirit insists she solve the mystery of his untimely death. Lucas Troy pops into her awareness claiming he was killed and demanding she figure out who did it. He wants justice before he'll agree to move on. ButSaffron's role isn't to play detective, but to help each invisible plan for the next adventure in living. She asks Lucas if he suspects anyone in the circle at his aunt’s tea party where he died. He can’t imagine anyone wanting to kill him, but he persuades Saffron to interview them all.

She feels for Lucas, who had hardly begun his life, and she tries to persuade him that he can have a great future next lifetime, but finally she gives in and agrees to a little investigating. If she finds out something, perhaps he’ll agree to move forward. But the closer she gets to the possible killer, the more she’s in danger. Saffron has no wish to join Lucas in The Room Over There.

Settle in to a cozy mystery with a touch of the supernatural, the heartwarming chaos of family, and the charm of London’s Notting Hill. "Interesting characters, intriguing mystery."

Excerpt

The letter slipped through the mail slot in their antique front door with an audible swish. Saffron happened to be there to hear and see it hit the polished wood floor. How could a letter carry such a whiff of danger? It was just an envelope, but an unusually shaped, almost square one, and so creamy as almost to be a shade of pale yellow.

But a single envelope, not the usual delivery of assorted mail. Someone besides the mailman had slipped it into their house, and with its thick cream paper and carefully lettered addresses it felt like an intrusion. It wasn’t time for the mail delivery. This was more personal.

She picked it up, turned it over, and saw a gold sticker sealing the point of the flap. Someone had gone to a lot of trouble to make this squarish letter seem like an invitation. The text on her phone came to mind, the warning to stop looking into Lucas’ death. Had it come from Lucas’ killer?

Holding the unopened envelope, Saffron shivered. She stepped to the hallway table and picked up the gleaming silver knife. A letter opener with scrolls and a faux Shelley family crest, gift from her sister Elinor as a joke. For easily opening letters from the living dead, as Elinor’s card had read.

Feeling slightly armed, Saffron sliced open the envelope and pulled out a heavy stock card. It was indeed an invitation.

Do you like puzzles? Come to an evening of mystery, fun, and tantalizing who-dun-it.

It was from Paul Everson, the real estate developer and possible murderer. Did he want to lure her into a trap with a snide reference to her suspicions? And how would he know she suspected him, if he wasn’t the killer?

About the Author

Rachel Dacus is the author of eight novels and five poetry collections. Her fiction features love and relationships, exotic locations and intrepid heroines, and emotional journeys of self-discovery, all with a touch of the supernatural. Her poetry, stories, and essays have appeared widely in print and online literary journals and anthologies. She enjoys life in the beautiful San Francisco Bay Area, with its coast and trails where she walks her tiny but mighty Silky Terrier with her architect husband.

Website: http://www.racheldacus.net/

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

Twitter: https://twitter.com/Rachel_Dacus

Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/racheldacusauthor/

 

Buy Link

https://www.amazon.com/Deadly-Tea-cozy-mystery-Invisibles-ebook/dp/B0GPT7ZLFW

Rachel Dacus will be awarding a $20 Amazon/BN gift card to a randomly drawn winner.

Friday Smooch: Why should we stop? – #BDSMEroticRomance #FirstKiss #FridaySmooch

For today’s Friday Smooch, I’m sharing the first kiss in my steamy yet sweet BDSM erotic romance, The Gazillionaire and the Virgin.

Blurb

She’s the billionaire. He’s the virgin. Still, he knows how to make her melt.

When Silicon Valley entrepreneur Rachel Zelinsky meets reclusive genius Theo Moore, she has a single objective —a deal to incorporate his AI software into her company’s popular virtual world. She finds Theo to be arrogant, sensitive and socially awkward, but his aura of power speaks to her carefully-hidden submissive side. Confused and aroused, she falls under his geeky spell.

Theo Moore can’t be bought. His past battles with poverty make him deeply suspicious of the billionaire CEO, though Rachel’s voluptuous curves and brilliant mind embody his ultimate fantasy. Too bad his knowledge about sex derives from extensive research and a stash of kinky porn rather than real-world experience.

Rachel may be Theo’s first lover, but Theo is her first true Master. One word from him, one touch, and she surrenders to bliss. It seems that love and complementary desire may harmonize their differing values, until Rachel’s unwitting violation of Theo’s trust tears them apart.

The Smooch (Rated R)

“You were doing so well, though. I was so proud of you.” She gives my fingers a squeeze. I squeeze back, amazed that I can be so comfortable with her touching me.

“But now I’ve disappointed you, I imagine.” I try sitting up straighter. It’s awkward with only one hand free. I want to adjust the swollen lump pressing against my zipper, but of course I don’t dare. “And the donors—they’re probably all laughing their millionaire heads off at poor, pathetic Theo Moore.”

“Not at all. Everyone was quite worried about you. Roger Varley wanted to call an ambulance, but I thought you’d really rather go home.”

“You were right. Thank you. But how did you get me up to the second floor and into bed?”

“It wasn’t easy.” Her whole face lights up when she laughs. “You’re a big guy. The gardener helped me bundle you up the stairs. I fished the key out of your trouser pocket.”

The concept of her hand wriggling into my pants, her heat warming my body—it’s too much. My cock surges, threatening a premature explosion. I’ve got to get Rachel Zelinsky out of here, before I really embarrass myself.

As gently as I can, not wanting to offend her, I pry my fingers away from hers. “Thank you for your help, Rachel. You can leave now. I’m fine. And it must be late.”

“Only ten thirty. Anyway, I’m not going anywhere just yet.” She rises from her chair and perches on the edge of my bed, leaning in my direction, her bare shoulder mere inches from my tensed body. Her musky perfume envelopes me.

I draw a desperate breath. My cock quivers. Clearly my expensive, custom-tailored trousers are doomed.

“No, Theo. You and I have some unfinished business to attend to.”

I don’t know how she manages it. It happens too fast for me to analyze. Before I can react or protest, roll off the bed or wriggle away, she has straddled my waist, bent herself double and pressed her soft, firm lips to mine.

I freeze. I don’t dare move a muscle. My hands become claws as I fight the urge to seize her hips and thrust up against the warm fullness of her satin-clad bottom. It’s pure instinct. Nothing could have prepared me for its power. My only recourse is to tighten every muscle in my poor body and hold on.

Her mouth is gentle at first, teasing, exploring. She tastes like the champagne in which I overindulged. As she kisses me, joy bubbles up in my chest, despite the precarious state of my cock. I’m drunk on her nearness. When her agile tongue prods at my tightly compressed lips, I open to let her in, craving more of the scent, the flavor, the texture of Rachel Zelinsky.

My surrender appears to inflame her. Gathering me from the pillow, clutching me to her breast with surprisingly strong arms, she delves deeper. She sucks my tongue into the juicy recesses of her own mouth. I can’t help but think of her other warm, wet places.

Oh my God! I’m leaking into my boxers, poised on the edge of annihilation. It’s glorious, terrifying, sweeter and darker than I’d ever dreamed it could be. Rachel’s kisses steal my breath and my will. Meanwhile she’s swirling her hips in slow circles on my belly, her ripe ass brushing my hardness on each cycle.

“Rachel,” I gasp, tearing myself from her perilous, intoxicating mouth. “Stop. We’ve got to stop...”

Releasing me so that I drop back onto the pillow, she rears back to fix me with her bright, golden eyes. “Why?” Her bruised lips are parted to show her perfect teeth. “Why should we stop?”

Find all the buy links at https://www.lisabetsarai.com/gazillionairevirginbook.html

A life she can never have – #SciFi #GeniusHeroine #Giveaway

Blurb

When Professor Meridia Vail’s space station is hurled across time and dimensions, she and the rest of the Bridgeway crew wake on an alternate Earth that's only five years into the future but looks like it's a century behind her technology. Their goal is to reclaim their crippled station, return to their dimension, and hope that a mysterious interdimensional illness doesn't kill her and her people first.

Stuck on a backwards version of her own planet, Meridia must deal with governments who want her technology and intelligence agencies who want control. Nobody trusts anyone, and the longer they delay, the closer the Bridgeway gets to a catastrophic reentry.

However, the greatest shock comes when Meridia meets her doppelganger, a brilliant mechanic with a loving family that leaves her heart aching for the life she could have had.

As time is running out for her crew and New Earth, Meridia faces an impossible mission: return to the station, save her crew, and prevent a global disaster. Duty first. Family second. When Meridia is thrust into a situation where the two become synonymous, she must decide how much she's willing to risk for a world she's sworn to save and a life she can never have.

Excerpt

I followed her down the semi-busy hall until we arrived at a first grader’s room. Meridia peeked her head inside, smiled at the teacher, and motioned for a little girl to come into the hall. She beamed when she saw her mother and ran into her arms. When she saw me, she stopped, her dazzling light-brown eyes enlarged.

My heart swelled to the point that my gaze blurred with unshed tears. She was beautiful. She had olive skin and frizzy hair that barely stayed in place with two green barrettes to hold back the curly onslaught. Her smile was perfect, even with the one missing tooth in the front. I didn’t believe in instant love, but this little girl made me feel nothing less than that. Meridia—the other me—had a child. I mean, I knew she had a kid, but nothing prepared me for actually meeting her.

"Who’s that, Mommy?" she asked.

Meridia knelt. "Remember when I told you I had a twin sister who came from space and that’s why the reporters were at our house? Well, this is her. This is Astronaut Meridia. Meridia, this is my daughter Felicity."

The little girl let go of her mother before rushing to wrap her arms around my waist.

"I have two mommies now," she declared. "Best day ever!"

Oh. My. God. It took everything inside me not to cry happy tears. Her little arms spewing with love for someone she had just met was incredible. Who would ever deny this beautiful little girl?

About the Author

Amazon best-selling author, V.G. Harrison enjoys creating smart heroines who are more comfortable dealing with things like Fine-structure constant and quantum entanglement than the fallout from their conflict. She loves to write stories that leave her audience so engaged they can't sleep at night, thinking about the possibilities.

V.G. holds a Bachelors in Biomedical Engineering and a Masters in Information Technology. When she's not writing, she's an IT manager for a healthcare information systems company.

Her ever-growing list of hobbies include astronomy, attending comic cons, keeping an eye on the cryptocurrency and stock markets, hydroponics gardening, hiking, and connecting with her daughter, Collie, on a cool level.

https://mochamemoirspress.com

Author website link:

https://www.vgharrison.com/

https://www.vgharrison.com/blog-1

https://www.facebook.com/booksbycoletteandharrison

https://www.facebook.com/marciacolette

Amazon: https://www.amazon.com/Engine-Sky-Dyson-Bridge-Book-ebook/dp/B0H3LWYKRZ/ref=sr_1_1

V.G. Harrison will be awarding a $10 Amazon/BN gift card to a randomly drawn winner.

Either I’m prescient, or I’m insane – #MMParanormalRomance #PrideMonth #MFRWHooks

We’re halfway through Pride Month. I, for one, am still celebrating. For today’s MFRW Book Hooks, I have a snippet from my MM paranormal romance At the Margins of Madness.

I don’t know why, but almost all my MM titles have some darkness surrounding them. This one is no exception; I put my heroes through hell before they get their HEA. 

Perhaps it’s my sense that it’s not easy in this world to be a man who loves other men.

Blurb

Nineteen year old Kyle has devastating visions of horrific disasters. Everyone assumes Kyle is schizophrenic, but Rob, the cop who picks him up off the street, knows better. Since his telepathic sister's brutal murder, Rob wants nothing to do with "gifted" individuals like Kyle. Yet he can't deny his attraction to the beautiful, tortured young man -- an attraction that appears to be mutual.

The Hook

“Kitchen’s here, with the door out to the back porch. Only one bathroom, I’m afraid. Here’s the guest room—your room. The closet’s empty; you’re welcome to put your stuff in there.”

Rob led Kyle through his apartment, fussing and clucking like a mother hen. He wondered for the hundredth time whether this was a mistake. The guy was just so damned beautiful. Rob could hardly bear to be close to him. Driving the few miles from St. Vincent’s to his building, Rob had tried to pay attention to the road, but he couldn’t help sneaking sidelong glances at the mysterious, sensual face of his companion. Kyle seemed to be brooding. Maybe he had his doubts, too.

“What stuff?” Kyle spread his arms, a half-smile on his plump lips. “Everything I own is on my back.”

“I’ll take you over to Greendale Mall so you can pick up some new clothes. Loan you some cash until you get on your feet.”

“What makes you think I’ll ever ‘get on my feet’, Sergeant Murphy?”

“Rob. Please.”

“Okay, Rob.” Kyle stared at the mostly bare maple outside the guest room window, before turning back to confront him. “Why should anything be different now?” Rob heard the bitterness in his voice. “I have a disease, and I don’t mean the ulcer. I’m cursed. I see terrible things, and I can’t stop them. It’s getting worse all the time. There are only two possibilities. Either I’ll kill myself, or I’ll truly go insane.”

Rob suppressed the urge to take the man in his arms. Instead, he settled for an avuncular pat on the shoulder. “It’s only your imagination, Kyle. Your mind playing tricks on you. Once you understand that, maybe you can suppress the visions. Or control them.”

Kyle sank down onto the bed. His dark eyes burnt under exquisitely arched brows. “My imagination? You know that’s not true.”

Rob lowered himself onto the desk chair. He wished that he were somewhere else. He wanted to help Kyle, but he really didn’t like where the conversation was going.

“What else could it be? These spells—they’re like seizures. Storms of random activity in your brain that make you see things. I was there at the hospital, remember, when it hit you yesterday. You were completely out of touch, yelling about the brake, the gas tank, groaning and crying. You were delusional.”

“It was a crash,” Kyle intoned. “At least five cars. Glass everywhere. The screech of rubber, the stink of leaking gasoline, and then the explosion and the smell of charred flesh… Check the papers, Rob. Call the police station. If it hasn’t happened yet, it will soon.”

“You really believe that your hallucinations foretell the future?” Rob remembered the night he’d picked Kyle up, the narrowly averted catastrophe at the address Kyle had seen.

“I only wish that they didn’t. All I ever see is violence and pain.” Kyle buried his face in his hands.

Rob moved to the bed, next to his guest, and put his arm around the denim-clad shoulders. He couldn’t help himself. “Look, that’s crazy. This isn’t some kind of horror movie. This is real life. There’s a rational explanation for everything.” He was trying to convince himself as much as Kyle. He didn’t want anything more to do with psychic abilities. Never again.

Kyle skewered him with a dark stare, hurt and angry. “You don’t know what you’re talking about. I thought that you wanted to help me.”

Rob tensed. Kyle was so close. The funk of his old sweat rose from the worn jacket, along with a trace of disinfectant. Rob could see the pulse beating in the boy’s pale temple. He felt his own blood rush to his cock.

Kyle trembled. His nostrils flared. His eyes gleamed. Rob felt the pull, a magnet focused on his groin. It would be so easy to gather that taut young body to his chest, to fasten his mouth on Kyle’s ripe lips, to take control. But that wasn’t what the man needed. Kyle needed responsible strength. Logic. Maturity. With a heroic effort, Rob smothered his fantasies.

“I do want to help. If I didn’t, do you think I would have taken you in? I just want you to be realistic. To recognize that even when you think you’re seeing future events, that’s a delusion.”

Kyle wasn’t listening, not really. Rob could see him adjust his face, hiding his emotions, shuttering those bright eyes, donning a false smile. Putting on a mask. “Whatever you say, Rob. Maybe you’re right. After all, most nut cases think their visions are real.”

“You’re not a ‘nut case’, Kyle.”

“Are you sure?” He giggled. “You can’t have it both ways, you know. Either I’m prescient, or I’m insane.” He stood, stretching, then grinned at the sight of Rob’s obvious concern. “Hey, lighten up. Either way, I’m not going to stab you in your bed.”

Rob shuddered, despite himself.

Kyle rested a light hand on Rob’s shoulder. “I’m sorry to give you a hard time. I really do appreciate you giving me a place to crash.”

The casual touch re-ignited Rob’s carefully suppressed desire. Fortunately, the phone rang. “Excuse me,” he muttered, beating a hasty retreat to the hall. 

 

Find the buy links for At the Margins of Madness at https://www.lisabetsarai.com/marginsofmadnessbook.html

Note that this novel is available as an audio book as well as an e-book.

Be sure to visit the other authors participating in today’s Book Hooks!

The dead things that live in the dark – #ParanormalHorror #LGBTQ #Giveaway

Blurb

PI Bradshaw receives a late night call from a client desperate to find her missing daughter. The woman asks to meet him at a storage unit in upstate New York. The woman hangs up before Bradshaw can inquire further. Woken by the jarring news, Bradshaw decides to meet the frantic, mysterious woman pleading for his help.

Working as a private investigator has its drawbacks. Bradshaw often receives prank calls from clients with run-of-the-mill requests and chooses his cases wisely. But there is something unusual and unnerving about this particular call. The hopeless plea in the woman’s voice and the anonymity of her demand ignite a maelstrom of questions.

While Bradshaw decides whether the call is worth pursuing, a young dead girl from the Other Side visits him, demanding attention and seeking help for the request he just received. Who is this spirit? What does she want? And how is she linked to the caller?

Excerpt

I backed up against the rain-streaked window and closed my eyes.

Maybe if I stayed in place, camouflaging myself in the scrim of the storm, it wouldn’t see me. Or I’d join my parents on the Other Side.

Let whatever chased me devour me whole. Rip at my jugular, spew all my secrets, and leave me to die. No more running from the dead things that live in the dark.

I ran.

As fast as my middle-aged legs could move, through the maze of corridors, around and around, until I stopped to catch my breath next to a large metal door at the far end.

Something hissed at me somewhere in the enclosing blackness.

I grasped the doorknob and yanked it outward, dashed into the stairwell. I ran down a flight of stairs, my feet pounding like gunfire under me.

I didn’t look up when the doors flung open, and whatever was following me scurried across the ceiling, down the walls, and along the stairs, its legs clicking-clacking like chopsticks.

I lost my balance midway, but reached out to steady myself.

Teeth gnashed and sharp claws raked closely at the side of my face.

I ran down the rest of the stairs to the bottom floor, tripping off the last step and tumbling across the hard concrete.

About the Author

Thomas Grant Bruso knew he wanted to be a writer at an early age. He has been a voracious reader of genre fiction since childhood.

His literary inspirations are Ray Bradbury, Dean Koontz, Stephen King, Jim Grimsley, Karin Fossum, and Joyce Carol Oates.

Bruso loves animals, reading books, and writing fiction, and prefers Sudoku to crossword puzzles.

In another life, he was a freelance writer and wrote for magazines and newspapers. In college, he won the Hermon H. Doh Sonnet Competition. Now, he writes and publishes fiction and reviews books for his hometown newspaper, The Press-Republican.

He lives in upstate New York.

Author Links

Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/8591689.Thomas_Grant_Bruso

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

Blue Sky: https://web-cdn.bsky.app/profile/thomasgrantbruso.bsky.social

 

Buy Links

Barnes and Noble:

https://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/the-dead-hour-thomas-grant-bruso/1148779270?ean=9798896020639

Amazon:

https://www.amazon.com/Dead-Hour-Thomas-Grant-Bruso-ebook/dp/B0FWBRGQBW/ref=sr_1_1

JMS Books:

https://www.jms-books.com/thomas-grant-bruso-c-224_236/the-dead-hour-p-5517.html

Thomas Grant Bruso will be awarding a $10 Amazon/BN gift card to a randomly drawn winner.

Friday Smooch: The Journeyman’s Trial – #Kiss #EroticRomance #FridaySmooch

Some of my creative colleagues have decided to develop a new meme: Friday Smooch. Each of us is going to devote a Friday Facebook or blog post to a sizzling kiss excerpt.

To kick things off, I’ve got a searing smooch from my steam punk erotica tale The Journeyman’s Trial. Enjoy!

Blurb

If she builds it, will they come?

Technically brilliant and thoroughly wanton, Gillian Smith has found her vocation: designing innovative erotic devices for the Toymakers Guild. Lust is a lubricant to creativity at Randerley Hall. But what happens when two Toymakers fall in love?

If you like intelligent, lusty women and kinky steam punk sex toys, pick up a copy of The Journeyman’s Trial.

The Smooch (Adult)

“Jill – please!” Rafe held out his hand. “Come here.”

The raw need she heard in his voice cut through her giddiness. She stared at the man reclining on the thin mattress. Ragged black hair hung over his brow, partially hiding the lump from his fall. His dark eyes seemed to glow in the dimness as though lit from within, while his lips pressed together, serious and unsmiling. There was no hint of his habitual mocking smile.

Something shifted inside her. All levity fled. A pang of desire clutched at her, so acute that she gasped. Without further hesitation, she seated herself on the bed, close enough that she could smell him: earthy traces of the moors where she’d found him; the sharp sweetness of the rum; the ripe animal smell of his horse; and under it all, his own sweat and musk, rich and male. The heady mixture increased her intoxication. He captured both her hands in his, still pinning her with that intense gaze. For an instant, she wondered if he planned to prevent her from touching him, as he’d done previously. Then he drew her down to face him on the bed, into a bottomless kiss, and she understood that their waiting was over.

His lips locked to hers, their breath mingling, he explored her body with eager hands. Though they were both fully clothed, each caress burned like a brand imprinted on her flesh. Her breasts, her belly, her arse, every inch of her was on fire. When he circled a taut nipple through her bodice, she spiralled down into a maelstrom of need. When he cupped her buttocks and pulled her pelvis against the rigid bulk of his prick, she thought she might spend from the mere thought of having him inside her.

Prying off her shoes, she snuggled closer. She ran her hands over his back, sensing the wiry strength in his slender frame. His tongue played along the seam of her closed mouth and she opened gladly, meeting his incursion halfway, revelling in the simple honesty of that kiss: nothing hidden, nothing held back, two souls acknowledging and indulging their mutual desire.

Find the buy links at: https://www.lisabetsarai.com/journeymanstrialbook.html

A center for the Queer Resistance – #MMRomance #DystopianSciFi #MFRWHooks

For today’s Book Hooks blog hop, I have an excerpt from my MM dystopian erotic romance, The H Gene – highly appropriate for Pride Month. In the near future, post-plague world of this novel, being gay is literally a crime. Lovers Dylan and Rafe are on the run and fighting for their lives.

Blurb

When love is forbidden, the whole world’s a prison.

Dylan Moore will do anything for freedom. Seven years ago, a gay plague spread to heterosexuals, killing millions and sparking brutal anti-gay riots. The Guardians rounded up men who tested positive for the homogene and imprisoned them in remote quarantine centers like desolate Camp Malheur. Since then, Dylan has hacked the camp's security systems and hoarded spare bits of electronics, seeking some way to escape. He has concluded the human guards are the only weakness in the facility's defenses.

Camp guard Rafe Cowell is H-negative. He figures the lust he feels watching prisoner 3218 masturbate on the surveillance cameras must be due to his loneliness and isolation. When he finally meets the young queer, he discovers that Dylan is brilliant, brave, sexy as hell — and claims to be in love with Rafe. Despite his qualms, Rafe finds he can't resist the other man's charm. By the time Dylan asks for his help in escaping, Rafe cares too much for Dylan to refuse.

Dylan's plan goes awry and Rafe comes to his rescue. Soon they're both fugitives, fleeing from militant survivalists, murderous androids, homophobic ideologues and a powerful man who wants Dylan as his sexual toy. Hiding in the Plague-ravaged city of Sanfran, Dylan and Rafe learn there's far more than their own safety at stake. Can they help prevent the deaths of millions more people? And can Rafe trust the love of a man who deliberately seduced him in order to escape from quarantine?

The Hook

“You’re not the first.” The three of them sat once again at the kitchen table, which held the remains of wild mushroom omelets and fried potatoes. Artemis was an amazing cook. Even the soy-based sausage links had some taste.

“What do you mean? You’ve met other men who’ve escaped from the quarantine camps?” Dylan asked, leaning his elbows on the table.

“Some from the camps. Some from the eyePorn studios, which supposedly are even worse. Basically sexual slavery.”

“They say all eyePorn is consensual,” Rafe objected. “That the stars make good money, too.” He realized he hadn’t had an eP session in weeks. Probably the first time since he’d reached eighteen and been given his pod that he’d gone even twenty-four hours without eP. And he hadn’t missed it.

“Maybe that’s true of het eP, though I wouldn’t bet on it. But gay eyePorn’s a different situation.”

“There’s gay eP?” Dylan asked. Rafe wasn’t sure he liked the gleam in Dylan’s eyes. “I thought that was illegal.”

“Completely. Possession can get you fifteen years and a memory wipe. Being involved on the—um—creative side is viewed as equivalent to spreading the Plague. These days that means death.” Artemis sighed. “Of course, there’s a huge black market in the stuff. Attractive men with homoerotic inclinations are in high demand as performers. Since few, if any, of them would deliberately risk the penalties, they’re either tricked into it, or forced. Sometimes studios even raid the camps.”

“Hmm.” Dylan’s brows knotted. “There were some guys at Malheur Camp, over the years, who simply disappeared. The Robbies took them away, and we never saw them again. Good-looking men, usually.”

“I’m glad they didn’t take you,” Rafe commented. The notion terrified him.

“Maybe they knew I’d cause trouble,” Dylan laughed. “Or maybe I just wasn’t hot enough.” He ducked Rafe’s playful swat. “So you say that you’ve met other fugitives. What happened to them?”

“Sometimes we managed to help them escape—to Brazil or Korea or Spain—somewhere being gay isn’t a crime.”

Rafe’s stomach twisted into knots. Sure, the system had treated him like shit, but he was still American, through and through. Could he really live in one of those countries who’d robbed the U.S. of its power and glory?

“Sometimes we weren’t so fortunate.” Rafe read sorrow and odd guilt in their host’s expression. Her grave tone suggested that the alternative to exile was far worse.

“Sanfran may be the national headquarters for the Guardians of American Greatness, but it’s also a center for QR. The Queer Resistance,” she added in clarification. “Hopefully, they’ll be able to help you.”

“How can we contact them?” Dylan asked. He seemed unconcerned with the notion of leaving the country of his birth.

“There’s an old bathhouse, in the Castro exclusion zone. I’ll give you directions. I can’t go with you. I’d be too conspicuous. Officially, the Castro’s a contaminated area, completely off limits. It’s in ruins anyway—even worse than the rest of the city.”

She sipped her dandelion tea. “The area’s a last refuge for the tattered remnants of Sanfran’s gay community, the few men who survived the Plague and the riots. Sort of a ghost town for gays. The authorities say that the prion level there is high enough to infect anyone who enters. Even the gangs avoid it. But that’s just hogwash. Nobody’s contracted the Plague in Sanfran for more than two years. Some people have suggested that the Castro should be razed. But the powers that be want to keep it, to remind us how much we need the Guardians.”

“We’ll get in,” Dylan swore. “We’ll find the bathhouse. But what then?”

“Ask for Hammer. He’s the current leader of QR. If anyone can help you, he can.”

Artemis stopped, as though her energy had suddenly deserted her. Rafe thought she’d gained decades of age in an instant. “By now, I expect the Guardians will have your faces plastered on every vid screen in the city. You’re in great danger and there’s a limited amount I can do to help.”

Dylan took her hand but it was Rafe he was looking at as he answered. “Believe me. I know.”

 

Find the buy links at https://www.lisabetsarai.com/thehgenebook.html

Be sure to visit the other authors participating in today’s Book Hooks!