It’s available in many places, including:
You can read an excerpt here. This is a Norther Shifters story.
In one week, Running Free will be available. It’s been a little while since I’ve had a book out, so I’m excited. I’ve had a couple of nice reviews at Fresh Fiction and Sensual Reads. For any Anchor readers, this tells Sally’s story and includes a visit to Wolf Town.
While I know not all my readers cross over to my Joely Skye books, Running Wild, which is twinned with Running Free (the heroes in each book are twin horse shifters), got four stars at RT Book Reviews. (This fourth book in Skye’s Northern Shifters series is absolutely adorable… The slow-build romance will keep you flipping pages to see what happens next…)
Well, this week Captive Prince ate my brain. It’s a two-volume set, ending in a cliffhanger, available at Kindle, Nook, Kobo and maybe elsewhere. Over the course of two books, you get to watch two princes, who are enemies, fall in love—in a convincing, complex, and wholly satisfying way. I’m collecting links below, mostly so I can refer to them myself, but also for anyone whose interest is piqued.
Warning: The first half of the first book is difficult to read, with abuse and rape, on page and off.
Different posts in different places have talked about it and the discussion has been fascinating:
So now I’m kind of casting around in terms of what to read next. It’s been a bit of a strange reading year for me. In that I’ve been reading very little, but when I am reading the book has been very long (or very short) and very impressive, if not, well, eating my brain. And it’s all been m/m when I usually mix things up more.
Books I’ve read that bring to mind Captive Prince, or vice versa:
If I think of more, I’ll add them! If anyone else has suggestions, I’d love to hear them.
It’s been a while since I’ve posted links, so some of these aren’t terribly new and they’re kind of all over the place, if still interesting to me.
In some cases I am sure there is “too much” for some people’s taste (and it is important to acknowledge that people’s tastes vary and that is how it should be). More often in my own reading I see less examination of the place of these central human emotions and desires. Consensual sex can be love or it can be sex. It can be romantic but it can be other things too.
I’ve also put up an excerpt here. It’s the opening scene of the book.
The pup had disappeared. Again. Honest to God, thought Zach, these moon-run outings were going to be the death of him.
Storm was too young to be out and about on his own, and Zach was too big and, well, too much of a horse to scrabble under the bushes. He had to go around, and while he had a pretty good idea of where Storm was headed—the pup being fond of the clearing in the middle of the small woods—Zach didn’t like not knowing exactly where Storm was at all times.
There were coyotes out here, and a werewolf pup should be running with older wolves, not on his own. Or should be running with his horse guardian—if only the pup’s mind didn’t forget that important fact the moment the moon called to him.
The damn thing shone overhead, lighting Zach’s way. The wet snow was deep tonight. Not a problem for Zach’s long legs, but a struggle for a small body. Storm would be clumsy and slow in the snow, oversized paws almost flapping. A sitting duck if anything were to attack the child.
Zach knew how it would go. Soon Storm would stop and look around and wonder where Zach was, wonder why a large horse hadn’t been able to follow him under brush. Then he’d be sorry he’d run off, sad he’d disobeyed. He’d been distracted by the smell of rabbit or something, but he’d end up by himself, shivering or yipping forlornly at the moon.
Trying to make Storm’s time alone as short as possible, Zach moved faster. Five more minutes max, he hoped. There had to be a better way to run under the moon than this. The hell of it was, though, he couldn’t quite figure it out.
As he cornered the last bend of the path, the entrance to the clearing came within view—and a scent brought him up short. Despite his urgent desire to find Storm, Zach plowed to a stop and breathed in hard to identify the smell of danger—of wolf. Wolf, adult and male. All Zach’s senses went on high alert. He wasn’t able to discern whether the scent meant wolf or werewolf, and he didn’t care. He didn’t trust either creature. He didn’t trust wolves, period.
Coming out is toward the end of the process for our gay children, but for parents, it’s the beginning. There is remarkably little written or support available for parents who want to protect and guide their children through this vulnerable transition.
When I came out to my parents, eleven Christmases ago, they worried that, at some point, I would find myself limited by who I was. None of their closest friends or co-workers was gay and the only out lawyer who ever appeared in our house was Eric McCormack’s character on Will & Grace—a TV show that I endured in silent terror, dreading discovery, throughout my entire childhood.
Romances often delve into the most intimate of their characters’ feelings and actions, and I wonder if the intimate narrative point of view paradoxically keeps us from feeling like voyeurs, interrogators stripping the lovers of their privacy.
One rather constant claim is that the NFL has always been always been straight about head trauma and that players “knew the risks.”
Jane Austen gave her female characters as much agency as a woman could have in those days, and the narrative is mostly seen through their eyes.
I’m slowly making my way through The Rifter. I’ve reached Book 8, so that was far enough to read some reviews of it at Dear Author. And in one of those reviews Sunita talks about it being an immersive read. Which got me thinking about my immersive reads. So I thought I’d list them here. In no particular order.
1. The Rifter by Ginn Hale. (Of course.) My mother always read books slowly like she didn’t want them to end. I’m usually at the other end of the spectrum, where I need to finish and find out what happened. But with The Rifter being quite long, and having convenient stopping places, I am enjoying my time with the story. And I think about the characters quite a lot.
2. The Lymond Chronicles by Dorothy Dunnett. This was only immersive for me during a reread. I stopped and started the series during my first read-through. But my reread was one right after another, and not only that, I read Lymond directly after reading Dunnett’s House of Niccolo series, Lymond’s prequel. I think Lymond may be my most intense and satisfying read ever. Be warned: Book 4 ripped my heart out.
3. Adrien English by Josh Lanyon. Watching Adrien and Jake slowly get together (and break apart) while solving mysteries captivated me. I can’t say why these guys became so real to me, but they were. It’s interesting to me that this is the only contemporary series on this list. I reread the first two books more than once, and straight through the series once book 4 was released. I still remember the day I started on book 4.
4. Crossroads Trilogy by Kate Elliott. Though this wasn’t a reread like the others, the series was immersive for me. In part because these are three long books; in part because Elliott creates a complex high-fantasy world that drew me in. I was so taken by the giant magic eagles bonded to their humans, as well as the winged horses. And there was lots of creative, thoughtful world-building beyond that.
Oddly these are all from the past ten years of reading, but I’m quite sure I had immersive reads before that! I just can’t think of them. I know that if my series reading is spread out over time it doesn’t have quite the same effect, even if I can’t wait to read the next installment. (The Vorkosigan series by Lois McMaster Bujold comes to mind.)
I’m reading The Rifter by Ginn Hale. It’s a serialized story that came out in 2011. Since I’m not reading it all that quickly now—time constraints—I rather wish I’d read it as it was released. Certainly each episode (ten novellas in total) keeps up the tension, each installment makes me want to read the next. So it would have been fun anticipating the next one as it was released.
I’m not too regretful though, given I’m thoroughly enjoying it now. I’ve finished book three, Black Bones. So don’t spoil me! I’m avoiding any posts about it till I complete the entire book, at which point I’ll go visit Dear Author, which reviewed the bulk of it, and its GoodReads page.
I’m quite worried about the characters. I’m engrossed, the world fascinates me, and I can’t wait to see how the different pieces of the story fit together. But the characters seem in quite a bit of danger in a way that kind of hooks into my chest and makes me fret for them. We will see what book four brings.
But this type of worry reminds me of when I read The Charioteer by Mary Renault. That book rather wrung my heart out—for different reasons. The danger to the characters is entirely different, given the settings (portal fantasy vs. post-WWII England), but neither place is the easiest place for gay men. I think it says something about the writing and the story when the characters come so alive for me that I am concerned for their well-being.
This happens to me less in the romance genre. The Rifter is fantasy and The Charioteer is general fiction (and contemporary for its time). I guess when it’s full-on romance, if you will, I can’t quite escape the knowledge that the two main characters are heading for an HEA.
Don’t get me wrong, I love romance for its structure and its HEA. But it’s been a long while since I fretted about characters in it like this. I do think that used to happen to me with early Susan Elizabeth Phillips, actually, and some Laura Kinsale, but I’m trying to remember others! I’ll have to think on it.
This is basically stuff that interested me in the past week, some of it reading material.