The Long Journey to You by Vincent Traughber Meis #giveaway

NEW RELEASE

Book Title: The Long Journey to You

Author: Vincent Traughber Meis

Publisher: Spectrum Books

Cover Artist: Vincent Meis and Andrew May

Release Date: February 17, 2024

Genre: Contemporary M/M Romance, Literary Fiction

Tropes: Age-gap relationship, friends to lovers

Themes: Survival, overcoming tragedy

Heat Rating: 3 flames       

Length:  97 000 words/350 pages

It can be read as a standalone, but the protagonist also appears in my novel, The Mayor of Oak Street (ages 12-21). The main story of this book takes place 40 years later and we find out what happened to him in flashbacks. 

It does not end on a cliffhanger.

Goodreads

 

Buy Links – Available in Kindle Unlimited

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Nathan’s traumatic past challenges but cannot stop the arc that brings him to Mateo.

 

Blurb

Nathan doesn’t know how to stop dwelling on the failures and tragedies that have plagued him since he was a twenty-one-year-old happily in the arms of the handsome young doctor he had pined for since he was twelve. Many years later after the latest tragedy, who could mend Nathan’s heart? If not a handsome young doctor, would an ER nurse do? After a chance meeting with Mateo, a lot of Nathan’s reminiscing is now devoted to how that encounter made him feel. Will he seize the day or continue wallowing in the past, having lunch with his best girlfriend from high school, and writing poetry?

 

Excerpt 

“Are you okay?” he asked in a slight Spanish accent. His questioning eyes moved directly to the stain on my T-shirt where the juicy tomato from my lunch had squirted. Looking like blood?

I became acutely aware of my attire: baggy sweats that may have had other stains, a baseball cap with a tattered rim, and faded crocs. He wore neat magenta scrubs that matched the color of his full shiny lips. His nametag said Mateo.

The scenario must have been embarrassingly clear to him. I had wandered off from one of the many senior facilities that dotted the landscape of the neighborhood. If I exaggerated the confusion that I, in fact, frequently felt, he might take my arm, walk me back to the facility, put me in a bath, gently wash my back, and tuck me into bed. The more I looked into his onyx eyes, the more I wanted him to do just that.

“I mean, you looked a little lost…and sad.”

“Don’t worry, Mateo.” His eyebrows separated and bounced at the sound of his name. Then he smiled and touched his nametag, realizing how I knew it. “I’m lost in a memory is all.” I chuckled. “I suppose I do fit a profile.”

“You’re okay, then?”

“Yep.”

“My bad. I didn’t mean to profile you. I have experience with that, and it’s no fun.”

I imagined that he was doubly profiled, first for the color of his skin and then a second time when people caught a hint of his accent. 

“No harm done. I appreciate your concern.”

“It’s kind of my job. Sometimes it is difficult to switch out of that mode when I leave work.” He lowered his eyes, making me realize I must have been staring intently. How could I have not? He was an amalgam of all the men I had been attracted to my entire life: Mediterranean, Black, Latino, shorter than me, rectangular solid frame, soulful eyes, thick hair. But with an added twist. A dusting of freckles graced his cheekbones and the bridge of his nose. 

In a thoughtful gesture, he stared at the sidewalk and raised his hand to his chin, rubbing his index finger over his left cheek, revealing another physical trait that rang my buzzer: little tufts of black hair between his major and minor knuckles, a tiny forest to let my tongue wander through. 

Thank God, he couldn’t read my thoughts. Or could he?

“I should let you get on your way,” he mumbled, still not looking at me. He stared at the smashed apricots on the ground with, I imagined, quite a different take than mine.

I wasn’t ready to let him go just yet. 

“Do you work in one of these facilities I might have escaped from?”

“Now, look, I didn’t mean…” He took a step back in what appeared to be a desire to flee.

“I’m teasing. I haven’t seen you around the neighborhood.”

He tapped his nametag and twisted his neck to look at it. “Kaiser. It says right here. Kaiser Permanente.”

“I have trouble reading fine print.” I let out a small laugh, but he didn’t join me. 

He took another step back. “Just moved here less than a year ago.”

I guessed he was mid-thirties, and with his Spanish accent and African features, maybe Puerto Rican? Cuban? I imagined he lived with a wife and multiple niños. They spent Saturdays having barbecues in the park and Sundays from dawn to dusk at church events. He looked far too sweet to be anything but a family man. Now I was profiling.

“From?” I asked.

He let out a protracted sigh, as if the conversation had gotten way more involved than he had intended. His forehead crinkled again, hesitating to give me an answer. 

“The city. Getting too crazy over there.” 

Then he raised his head and his eyes met mine with the twinkle of a forest elf. Perhaps he wasn’t annoyed with me after all. Perhaps I had been wrong about sizing him up, though my conclusion that he was a family man was much easier to handle. Yet, he wore no ring.

 

About the Author

Vincent Traughber Meis is a fiction writer, a world traveler, and a former ESL community college teacher. When he’s not traveling, he divides his time between writing and working in the garden. Most of the characters in his novels and short stories come from across the LGBTQ+ spectrum and are racially and ethnically diverse. He has published eight novels: Eddie’s Desert Rose, Tio Jorge, Down in Cuba, Deluge, Four Calling Burds and The Mayor of Oak Street, First Born Sons, and Colton’s Terrible Wonderful Year. Tio Jorge, Down in Cuba, and Deluge have all won Rainbow Awards. The Mayor of Oak Street and First Born Sons have won Reader Views Reviewer’s Choice Awards. His short stories have appeared in several collections both in print and online, and have reached finalist status in several short story contests. A collection of short stories, Far from Home, was published in October 2021. He lives with his husband in San Leandro, California and Puerto Vallarta, Mexico.

 

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A Reservoir Man by LJ Ambrosio #giveaway

BOOK BLAST

Book Title:  A Reservoir Man

Author: LJ Ambrosio

Publisher: Film Valor

Cover Artist: Strong Book Covers

Release Date: May 3, 2022

Genre: Fictional Buddy Adventure

Themes: Coming of Age

Length:  54 000/340 pages

This is book one in the trilogy called “Reflections of Michael Trilogy”

It does not end on a cliffhanger

Goodreads

 

Buy Links

Author’s Website  |  Amazon US  |  Amazon UK 

 

Critics have hailed this explosive and timely work as “a must-read coming-of-age story.”

 

Blurb 

A Reservoir Man, critics have hailed this explosive and timely work as “a must-read coming-of-age story of 2022.” Twists and turns further pull the reader in to Michael’s action-packed tale, with powerful themes, from betrayal and family, to secrets and identity.

“Be sure not to blink because you just might miss a pivotal moment in Michael’s rousing, larger-than-life story.”

R.C. Gibson, Indiestoday.

“This book is a dream, a gamble, a utopia, even.”  Kalyan Panja, Bookmarkks.

 

Excerpt 

Michael left for New York on a break. He and Ben stayed at a tenement building in the East Village on the fourth floor. The bathtub was in a small kitchen, but the fire escape was the best. They stayed at the apartment for four days and did not come out except to eat. It was the apartment of his technical director, and it had a great aura. When Michael left to get back to Dover, he felt as if he just left a spa in the Caribbean.

Coming back to Dover, he now faced another problem. Al was feeding the press a lot of false information. Now the press saying that Michael was going to leave the Music Hall and develop a new theatre company at the University. Michael told the press this was not true, that his loyalty to Dover was solid. Michael knew it was time for it to be over, and he submitted his resignation to the board.

There was no pleading by anyone except the staff for Michael to stay. Michael, the community, and the board knew it was time for him to go. A search committee was formed, and Michael was vice chair of the committee. In the following days, Michael told Ben he could not go with him; it was better that he established his own life. Wade was moving with him; Michael secured an apartment in Park Slope. Ben understood and hugged Michael. Michael knew Ben was an Everyman in all meanings of the word.

The board had a challenging time finding a replacement. All the funding sources turned their backs on them since they did not listen to them years ago. Michael knew leaving Ben behind completed the circle that made the magic of Dover. The day he was leaving, Ben came to the apartment with a boxed lunch and lots of hugs. Michael got into the car and drove off, never looking back. He would always love Ben.

 

About the Author 

Louis J. Ambrosio ran one of the most nurturing bi-coastal talent agencies in Los Angeles and New York. He started his career as a theatrical producer, running two major regional theaters for eight seasons. He taught at over 7 universities in America. Ambrosio also distinguished himself as an award-winning film producer and novelist over the course of his impressive career.

 

Author Links

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a $15 Amazon gift card

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The Scars of Life by David Blyth #kindleunlimited #giveaway

RELEASE BLITZ

Book Title: The Scars of Life

Author and Publisher: David Blyth

Cover Artist: David Blyth

Release Date:  June 1, 2023

Genre: Contemporary Romance/Literary Fiction, mystery/suspense

Tropes: Sexual identity, bisexuality, forbidden love

Themes: Psychological twist, mystery, family drama

Trigger Warning: Supplementary themes involve sexual identity and a teenage incestuous occurrence: neither are covered in detail, or described graphically, as they were ‘incidents’ rather than relationships, though they have an impact on the development of the narrative.

Heat Rating:  2 – 3 flames

Length: 95 000 words/362 pages 

It is a standalone story and does not end on a cliffhanger.

It has a HEA of sorts – it fits vaguely into the romance genre with a lot of psychological suspense and mystery interwoven.

Goodreads

 

Buy Links – Available in Kindle Unlimited

Amazon US  |  Amazon UK

Paperback also available from Barnes and Noble 

 

A troubled mind, a dysfunctional love story, a psychological twist….

 

Blurb 

Paul Somerfield, a young journalist for Planet Earth magazine, shares a brief friendship with the enigmatic Mike Stokes during an assignment in Devon. It leads to a disruptive fascination and a reluctant complicity in events that evolve from Mike’s tragic past.

 On a journey where emotions influence his brittle control, Paul pursues the truth. But the truth has many disguises which disrupt his relationships, his rationality and his life.

A reminder of how fragile the stability of love and trust can be: a journey that follows fear and doubt as they steer lives into a downward spiral of destruction. 

 

Excerpt 

(To place in context: Paul (the main character) has just taken a trip over the moors (Dartmoor, Devon, UK) with Mike (the mysterious second character) who he met just a few days ago and befriended).

After a few minutes, with the sun transferring energy to untanned skin, Paul plunged forward to swim towards the opposite bank. Standing up in the shallow water, his gaze rested on his friend still stretched out below him. Mike’s eyes remained closed, the gentle rise and fall of breath the only movement in his body. He could almost have been asleep, but Paul knew he was not, and equally certain of Mike’s awareness of a close observer, perhaps another gift to them both from the custodian of the paradise who chose to share it. Paul was neither embarrassed nor aroused by the hedonic posture, which perfectly balanced the equilibrium, complimenting the setting. He only felt gratitude.

Time slowed to allow appreciation of the scene. Eventually, with reluctance lest the spell be broken, Paul spoke again, “You need another cold dip, mate.” The words were an intrusion. He strained to speak at all. An atmosphere of expectancy subdued his responses.

Mike remained silent. As he turned his head, his eyes filled with a remote but compelling vision. Paul was a prisoner to that gaze. The surroundings drifted out of focus as the man held out a hand in an undeniable gesture of reception.

The sensual element formed a command. With water lapping knees, he leaned as fingers enclosed one arm in a soft grip. Mike’s eyes held a silent appeal. It defied refusal. Legs felt weak, folded, he fell forward, his free hand placed near Mike’s shoulder.

“Mike….” Words came like sobs from his lips, “I … I don’t … I can’t….” He took shattered breaths, which formed around, “I’m sorry….”

Steady hands cradled his bowed head in a gentle caress. Wet hair supplemented the tears that unmanned him. The softest touches of Mike’s fingers smoothed them from his cheeks.

“Get out of the water, Paul.” Words almost whispered, close to his ear, with barely disguised authority.

Paul responded, unconsciously, climbing onto the stone.

Lines of sweat blurred his eyes. The atmosphere, heavy with anticipation, directed his senses, regulated his responses. Or, a will projected from a powerful force far below him, buried in the rock beneath. The body below him appeared able to harness that power without the need for physical participation. Paul, aware of the reaction of his own body to so sensual a situation, was powerless to subdue it. His skin absorbed the life below with every touch. Nerves ignited with every caress. His senses stimulated by conduction from another’s, as the strained form below him ascended the pinnacles of climactic rapture. Salt tears and sweat, sun warmed skin against his lips, shared breaths of confined desire; the noise of life pounding at his ear, the considerate grip of passion embracing him with a bond of impregnability. All volition was gone.

Suddenly, as though perpetrated by a violent act upon the man below him, the body became still. Only Mike’s relaxed breathing convinced Paul he was innocent of such a deed. Time was striving to catch up with its unnatural stagnancy. A stale memory of desire stained his mind like a contamination of his thoughts; the fruit of an unguarded crop of passion, which left behind the bitterest aftertaste.

Paul stared at the slope they walked down earlier. Then he stood, turned, and dived back into the water. He held no immediate aspiration to emerge from that tranquil medium, doing so only when the pain in his chest forced him to return to reality. Thrusting his feet towards the bed of the stream, he launched to the surface, gasping for air. The vision that met his eyes when his violent breaths had calmed was of a dream shattered. The picture was not as it appeared earlier. The sky painted a tormented brown. The breathtaking scene, transformed to a bleak and forlorn landscape. Air and water around him, tainted with pollution.

Turning his eyes across the water, he saw Mike walking up the slope wearing his shorts, boots held by their laces in one hand, his T-shirt trailing from the other and dragged along the grass. Swimming to the bank, reaching his clothes, he fought jeans over a wet body and slipped on his shoes. Grasping his shirt and camera bag, he stumbled up the slope in his haste. “Mike! Wait!” he called in a weak voice, breathing hard. The man did not respond to his cry. Catching up as they entered the trees, he reached out to the man’s shoulder, halting his progress.

Mike turned, a hard, almost pitiless stare, as he looked deep into Paul’s eyes.

For a moment, Paul was unable to speak. So intense a visage, it took away what little breath he had left. “You bastard! Don’t walk away from me as though your dignity’s been bruised.” He dropped his shirt and bag to his feet, and braced both hands on his knees. Breathing heavily, he waited for some reaction.

“Don’t lecture me about dignity.” The man answered, sharply.

He felt a consuming fury growing within. Standing again, Paul received a harsh look of accusation. As anger conquered instincts, he swung a clenched fist towards the man’s head. The punch found its target, striking a heavy blow to the jaw. Mike made no attempt to avoid the impact; blood soon appeared between his lips, trailing down the side of his chin. He stood motionless, looking into the eyes of his assailant. Paul remained poised, as though prepared to deliver another attack. Yet, in reality, he’d been stunned by the recognition of his actions. Mike’s eyes never flinched as he reached towards the fist, then enclosed it in a strong grip. Paul stood, mentally helpless and physically defeated, as the man lowered the arm back to his side.

“Paul, let’s go home.” The expression on his face softened before he turned to walk ahead.

 

About the Author  

David Blyth was born in Staffordshire, in the UK. He graduated from Nottingham and Wolverhampton Universities.

He lived for many years in South Africa, where he witnessed the political and social transformation during and after apartheid.

His interests, apart from writing, include anything that helps him to stay relatively sane.

The Scars of Life was written during a two-year overland exploration of southern, central and east Africa; much was achieved sitting under the shade of a huge mango tree on the shores of Lake Malawi, always with a beer near at hand.

Separate Development, which is in fact his second novel, though published first, was written at his home in the English Midlands.

He is currently working on his third.

 

Social Media Links

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Separate Development by David Blyth #kindleunlimited #giveaway

RELEASE BLITZ

Book Title: Separate Development 

Author and Publisher: David Blyth

Release Date: May 1, 2023

Genre: Contemporary LGBT Fiction/Literary Fiction

Tropes: An Intercontinental Love Story

Themes: LGBT, Bisexual, Interracial, South African, Apartheid, Medical (Doctor)

Heat Rating: 2-3 flames

Length: 120 000 words/420 pages

It is a standalone story and does not end on a cliffhanger.

Goodreads

 

Buy Links – Available in Kindle Unlimited

Amazon US  |  Amazon UK 

 

An intercontinental love story 

 

Author’s note:

Separate Development is a work of fiction inspired by real events. Many names, places and timelines have been altered to provide anonymity to third parties. Character names do not reflect anyone, living or deceased, whom I have ever known. However, I would like to thank the real-life members of the family portrayed in this book for being part of my life, and for their understanding and acceptance. I recognise that their memories of the events described in the novel may be different from my own. There was never any intention to misrepresent anyone; in fact, I am honoured to have known them.

 

Blurb

At twenty-five, recently qualified Dr Jonathan Conner leaves his comfortable life and love in London, taking up a charitable post during the last months of South Africa’s apartheid system. Weeks from a planned visit by his long-standing girlfriend, he falls in love with a young African man in the northern homeland of Venda.

Their passionate, heart-rending love story unfolds against the backdrop of conflict between social tolerances that lag behind political freedoms.
Returning to England after eight years, he’s forced to confront the consequences of his decisions for those left behind in two very different worlds.

Through this story of love’s endurance beyond society’s acceptance and geographical separation, can the enduring power of the human heart overcome adversity?

 

Excerpt 

The stark beauty of Venda’s voluptuous landscape could have replaced many an artist’s requirement for naked models of either sex. Rounded hills, writhing between cleaved valleys, yearned for lustful hands to caress their contours in pleasurable embraces. Admittedly, on that solemn day, it was not a mental image to dwell on. But I was to make the journey more than once.

The last twenty miles were dirt, dust dry, following the undulating curvature of parched hillsides. Rain was a distant memory, the last breath of summer’s bounty, yet portions of verdant green interspersed the struggling rampant growth of a forgotten season. Soon the skies would fill again with heat born clouds, storage towers of sustenance, destined to release daily torrents. Today, the brightest greens picked out pockets of humanity, cultivated patches and plots, tall stands of maize, fringed with bananas and peppered with papayas. Water was available for those who worked hard enough to find it, and the rich African soil rewarded those who took the trouble. These oases were increasing in frequency, many still surrounded by round, thatched, mud-wall huts or rondavels, some supplemented by larger rectangular versions, roofs still often traditional but occasionally replaced by bright or rusty zinc. Tracks worn by years of footfall fed the settlements. Vehicular access was rare, but where it existed, the residences built of brick, though often rendered: similar modern bungalows to mine.

As the frequency of dwellings increased, so did the appearance of structures clearly having other functions. Eventually we reached a broad flat plane. Gone were the patches of green, and in their place, the straggling thorn bushes — which conquered any area where humanity didn’t — had grown to tall spreading trees; all were bare of leaf, yet in the seasons of rain, broad panoplies of shade would provide protection from Capricorn’s sun. The space, ringed with buildings of a relatively modern construction, had occasional notices of printed or hand painted letters attached. Enclosing one side of the quadrangle stood a long dormitory style block of rough plastered walls, patched and peeling paint representing the faded choices of many years, or perhaps revealing the use of colours kindly donated at the time. Windows, placed only a few inches below the rusty corrugated overhang of the roof, in some sections without frame or glass, allowed light yet probably deterred its occupants from external distraction. Three well-worn steps led to broad double doors, also reflecting the indecision or availability of bygone supplies of colour. Only the signage appeared to have received regular maintenance. Bold black lettering, written with skilled hands on a fresh blue base, told me Sarah’s directions had led me to park in front of Ha-nthabalala Secondary School, Established 1972. Headmaster: Mr Joseph Ramanala. The name had a slightly deeper blue background, suggesting it represented the most recent promotion to the post.

 

About the Author 

David Blyth was born in Staffordshire, in the UK. He graduated from Nottingham and Wolverhampton Universities with a BSC.hon and a PGCE. He lived for many years in South Africa, where he witnessed the political and social transformation during and after apartheid.

His interests, apart from writing, include anything that helps him to stay relatively sane.

Separate Development, which is in fact, his second novel, was written at his home in the English Midlands. It is due to be published in the spring of 2023.

His first novel, The Scars of Life, was written during a two-year overland exploration of southern, central and east Africa. Much was achieved sitting under the shade of a huge mango tree on the shores of Lake Malawi, always with a beer near at hand. It will be published during the summer of 2023.

 

Social Media Links

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an ebook/kindle copy of The Scars of Life.

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Book Blast – Years of Silence by J.K. Jones

BOOK BLAST

Book Title: Years of Silence

Author: J.K. Jones 

Publisher: Self-published 

Release Date: December 30, 2020

Genre/s:  Dark M/M Romance, Magical realism

Tropes: Friends to lovers

Themes: Russian Mafia, floral horror, body horror romance, interracial romance, cultural diaspora 

Heat Rating:  4 flames 

Length:  91 872 words

It is a standalone book. 

Add on Goodreads

 

Buy Links 

Amazon US  |   Amazon UK 

 

Three friends. Two lies. One truth.

 

Blurb 

Three friends. Two lies. One truth.

Silence can be deafening. Billionaire Tycoon Zander Wright is no stranger to loneliness.

However, what happens when his friend-turned-enemy comes back?  

Knowing Vadim is like dancing the space between heaven and hell. The ocean is an inch between ecstasy and misery. Like all things long since forgotten, young love always remains the most crippling of pain.

Zander Wright is aware of this. He’s felt the fatal blow of being love-struck—bludgeoned violently over the head with the taste and feel of utopia in his arms and in his bed.

Vadim Oblonsky will always be the one thing he wants, but can never have.

Just like Petyr Yahontov will always be the one thing standing in his way. A dangerous man, with a sweet dimpled grin that has connections to the Russian mafia. Petyr wasn’t supposed to take it this far. Now, someone in his inner circle wants him dead. Zander didn’t start this. He didn’t want any part of it.

But he will be damned if he doesn’t finish it.

 

Warning from the author – Years of Silence is a dark MM Romance. This book will take you on a journey of self-discovery and disillusionment, a psychological thriller with so many twists and turns it will make your head spin. Enemies to lovers, floral horror, friends to lovers, hurt comfort, first time mm romance, gay betrayal romance, mental instability and so much more. Read an outstanding piece of literature of three friends and how one truth destroys all of them.

 

Excerpt 

From Chapter 1

Zander recalls these images not to relive them.

But to dance the space between heaven and hell. The ocean is an inch between ecstasy and misery. Like all things long since forgotten, young love always remains the most crippling of pain.

Zander Wright is aware of this.

He’s felt the fatal blow of being love-struck—bludgeoned violently over the head with the taste and feel of utopia in his arms and his bed.

The grotesque and sublime slam into him all at once, he tries to push through, he tries forcing it down, but still, it bubbles up. For once he doesn’t release it, he holds onto it, until it solidifies in his soul.

He knows he’ll never let go. Not now and not ever. Not even if it kills him.

And it surely will kill him, one of these days.

–

Zander raps his fingers on the table, impatiently going over the extensive legal jargon. The leather feels plush and comfortable as he leans back into his chair. The office is spacious and almost too large for one person alone, but Carlisle has insisted.

There’s a large bookshelf in the far corner, hefty enough to fill a library with nearly dozens upon, dozens of cases. Zander read them all.

Not by choice of course, but by necessity. He lives and breathes his work.

Case files lay stacked on his desk, untouched because of the sheer amount of work he still needs to get through.

“Is this all of it?”

The intern nearly jumps, his small lithe frame looking even smaller in his black slacks and white crisp dress shirt. He’s native American, with beautiful tan skin and dark piercing eyes, rimmed with glasses “Yes Mr. Wright.”

Zander looks back at the file, his eyes greedily taking in every single word. The whole case was fucked up. Even as he read more about the people involved, he felt his stomach coil in disgust. Sometimes he wonders why he became a defense attorney in the first place.

You know why.

“Sick fuck,” He mutters under his breath, before tossing the file on the table.

The case is straightforward: billionaire tycoon caught raping an underage girl and somehow thought throwing money at the problem would make it all go away. However, more women started coming out, accusing the defendant of being a rapist.

“A friend of my father’s you said?”

“Yes, Mr. Wright.”

Even after all the evidence proved that the man was guilty, he still had the fucking gull to plead “not guilty”. It was hard to argue against his DNA found in a rape test. Zander knew he had to take this case on, it was expected of him.

His face hardens.

“These are the police reports. I’ve sealed them to make sure nobody has access to them.” Zander says, placing them in a filing cabinet near his desk, and then Zander hands another file over to him. “Seth, take the case report back to Tanya and tell her that I want Mr. Dmitriev in my office Thursday morning at nine am sharp.”

“Yes, Mr. Wright,” Seth says, snatching the file away and nearly sprinting out of the room.

Zander takes a deep breath, loosening his silk fitted Armani jacket.

If this were a normal day, he would have yelled at Seth for not bringing these files in sooner. His father wanted this situation dealt with as quickly and discreetly as possible.

However, today was unlike any other day. His fingers twitch with anticipation as he wills himself to calm down.

Zander moves from his chair, eager to get the blood pumping and not to dwell on the reason why it feels like his heart wants to burst from his chest.

 

About the Author  

Heaven and hell, demons and angels. J.K Jones has always had an affinity for otherworldly things. From her debut novel, it’s easy to see she loves all things crawling in the shadows. As it so happens, J.K Jones is the author of a gritty, fun, action-packed, soul-rending novel. Her characters are so dark and twisted they defy the dimensions of this world. She does not believe in HEA, she does believe in writing a suitable ending for her characters. Never will you read any of her works where the characters ride off into the sunset together. Not going to happen. There is nothing J.K. Jones loves more than a tragic ending. She is an avid reader, poet, and LGBTQ activist. She is a University graduate with a BA in Sociology, also has a TESOL certificate for teaching English as a Second Language.

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