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“So, are you going with the traditional flowers and chocolates, or are you being a bit more creative?”

Talon blinked at Gael, having no earthly idea what he was talking about. “Please don’t tell me you forgot,” Gael said flatly.

Talon paused, his mind going a mile a minute. It wasn’t Finn’s birthday. “Fuck,” he swore succinctly. Fucking Valentine’s day was tomorrow. Gael slapped him on the back, grinning.

“He’s a guy,” Talon said defensively after a few seconds.

“Who’s a guy?” They both glanced up as Vance came down the corridor toward where they were standing outside the medical bay.

“Finn, apparently,” Gael drawled.

“Huh?” Vance looked from one of them to the other in confusion.

“I mean he’s not going to be into all that stuff, flowers and shit,” but even as Talon spoke the words, he knew it was a lie. Gael just raised an eyebrow. Vance barked out a laugh.

“You forgot Valentine’s day.”

“You could just take him out for dinner,” Gael suggested.

“When?” Talon nearly wailed not even attempting to disguise his I know and freely admit I’ve fucked up voice. It was nearly ten p.m. They had just finished up a really long day and they’d all eaten take-out earlier. “He’s going on that crime scene forensics course tomorrow, and I have no idea what time he’s gonna be done.”

“There are one or two places that will be open late in Ybor,” Gael mused. “Although, Friday and Valentine’s Day? It’ll be a zoo.”

Talon nearly growled in frustration. He hated eating out. Hated the stares, the whispers when they saw the mark on his face. The fear and mistrust many didn’t bother to hide. “Gianelli’s,” Vance pronounced naming their favorite Italian restaurant. Gianelli’s had a private back room, and they had originally gone to celebrate Doctor Natalie’s engagement. The doc had gotten Gael the private help he had needed when he was diagnosed with skin cancer and had kept it away from the bureau. When she’d asked them to come, they couldn’t say no. They’d all been eating and suddenly heard the sound of raised voices in the main dining room. It had turned out there was a birthday party going on, except the boyfriend of the birthday girl had objected to her ex thinking he could turn up and it had quickly become a fight. Talon and Vance had just grabbed a man each by the collar and hauled them outside. It had been over and done with in a few seconds, and the owner was so grateful his restaurant hadn’t got wrecked, they’d all drunk complimentary champagne. It was the only place the team ever went to eat out, not including Betty’s Diner.

Talon pulled his phone from his pocket and started dialing the number. Three restaurants later he gave up in disgust. Everywhere was slammed. The others didn’t take bookings but were expecting wait periods of at least an hour and the thought that he had no idea what time Finn was going to be back made the two early slots he was offered impossible to accept.

“Can’t you stop and get him something on the way home?” Vance asked.

“The truck’s in for service. We’re both in Finn’s.” In fact, any second his boyfriend was going to come out of the locker rooms looking for him. As if Finn had heard him, the door opened at the end of the corridor and Finn came out with Sawyer. Finn was laughing, and Sawyer was shaking his head in amusement. Finn looked up, and Talon met his green eyes. Everything in him soothed instantly. He wanted to do something special. He didn’t want to do chocolates and flowers, and yeah, he’d stuffed up the chance of both because he’d forgotten. Forgot Finn was normal, and he was anything but. Forgot his boyfriend was and would always be the very best thing that had ever happened to him. Forgot he wasn’t supposed to take him for granted. His lips curled upwards in the answering smile to Finn’s soft one.

“You done?” Finn said softly and gasped as Talon drew him in close to his body. Finn looked around, alarmed.

“Everyone’s gone home,” Talon murmured desperately wanting a kiss.

“Well, we haven’t,” Sawyer groaned, turning and following a chuckling Vance. Gael threw him a pointed look and then ruffled Finn’s hair.

“Knock ‘em dead, tomorrow, kid.”

Finn’s eyes sparkled, all eager. “I can’t wait.”.

Talon smiled indulgently. He couldn’t imagine anything more boring than discussing the nuances of directional blood-spatter, but he knew Finn had just bought a book by a famous forensics scientist in preparation for the course and Talon had already been lectured by his boyfriend on the value of it. Apparently, the book – Forensics for Fiction – had been written for authors, but Finn had raved about it and had even gotten their boss Gregory interested. Their team didn’t have the experience to handle murders in any way, and to be honest, they were having enough problems with the living, but Gregory was trying as hard as he could to plug all the numerous gaps in their training.

And Finn was an asset Gregory had recognized when he had been too stupid to. No, he had to get Finn something special…





Talon was fairly pleased with how things were going so far. He’d deliberately turned off Finn’s alarm and woken him up with breakfast in bed. Just a little too late to have Finn worrying about anything other than ramming down his chocolate chip muffin and racing in and out of the shower. He’d arranged for Gael to pick him up as he was still without the truck and after Finn had disappeared in an eager blur, he was showered and ready for Gael when he showed. Gael quizzed him immediately when he’d arrived, but Talon had just said everything was in hand. Gael had grinned and called him a lucky bastard. Which he knew. He had a dozen stops to make when he got his truck back but was waiting outside the training area next to the Tampa PD building when Finn came out of the door. Finn looked in surprise when Gael took his keys from him and promised Finn his “baby” would be safe and sound in their parking garage when he needed it tomorrow. Talon steered a bemused Finn to his truck and got him settled in there.

He started the truck and turned around. “You thought I’d forgotten, didn’t you?”

Finn opened his mouth, then closed it, and Talon smiled at the pink flush that started in his neck. He leaned over and pressed his lips to Finn’s, satisfied when he felt Finn’s hands creep around his back. He pulled back and then nearly—for a split second—thought to hell with the plan and wanted just to drive Finn home and carry him to bed, but he didn’t.

“I hope you’re hungry.”

Fifteen minutes later they pulled up outside Betty’s Diner. “What are we doing here?” Finn asked in astonishment. Talon grinned and jumped down from the truck and was at Finn’s door before he’d recovered from his shock enough to open it. Betty served breakfast and lunch six days a week, closed at 3 p.m., and it was the first place Talon had ever taken Finn to. To be honest, the diner looked closed. All the shutters were down, and it looked like the usual emergency lighting was on when you glanced at the door.

Talon just smiled and clasped Finn’s hand which he almost never did. He led Finn solemnly to the door and opened it. “I screwed up and forgot to book anywhere early enough.”

But Finn didn’t answer. He was too busy staring at the setting inside. Betty stood beaming, but even Talon was impressed at the table. All the smaller tables usually in the middle had been pushed to the side against the booths. The only table left was set up in the middle of the now empty floor. Talon blinked at the snowy white tablecloth and napkins, and the two candles flickering gently. The bottle of champagne he had dropped off earlier was chilling in the ice bucket. There were rose petals sprinkled over the table, and a single rose in a vase next to the candles.

Finn’s hand tightened in his, and he glanced at him quickly. The green eyes he loved shimmered as he stared, and then Finn gazed back at Talon and swallowed.

“It’s beautiful, Betty. Thank you,” Talon said, quietly.

“How?” Finn swallowed, and Talon guided him to the table. Talon didn’t answer because Betty was busy serving the soup. Finn inhaled. “My favorite.”

Betty beamed. “Of course,” and then she sniffed in that what did you expect kind of way. Talon’s belly growled as he smelled Betty’s homemade tomato soup. He’d spent all day worrying about making tonight perfect and hadn’t even thought about eating anything.

“How was your day?” Talon said.

Finn’s face lit up, and Talon listened as Finn eagerly told him what he had learned. They finished their steak and Betty pulled over a cart with some tiny deserts for them to share, and pressed a set of keys into Talon’s hand. “You just lock up when you’re done.” Finn stood up and threw his arms around her, and she chuckled and left them alone.

It was immediately quiet, and Talon swallowed down his suddenly dry throat. “You would be right thinking I forgot about Valentine’s day…I did.” Talon watched the green eyes he loved widen a little at his pronouncement, but then Finn’s face softened, and his smile was back. Gentle, forgiving and sexy as all hell. He was crap at sharing, but Finn deserved the truth and so much more.

“Normal life stopped for me the day I woke up with this.” Talon gestured to his face, then took Finn’s slim hands in his because he needed the touch. “Grandma and Grandad tried, but after Grandad died I stopped bothering.” He shrugged. “I never saw anything worth celebrating.” Finn’s hand tightened in his. “No, that’s not even strictly true. It…” Talon swallowed again, searching for the right words. “It was as if normal life didn’t involve me. Other people had lives. Went to ball games, hell – even dated. So, I didn’t forget exactly. I knew it was Valentine’s day. I just stopped thinking anything like that applied to me.”

Finn’s eyes glittered, and Talon brought Finn’s hand up to his mouth and kissed Finn’s palm. He needed a few seconds to cover his own eyes becoming suspiciously bright. Talon slid a hand into his back pocket and brought out an envelope. He squeezed Finn’s hand before he let go and straightened the envelope a little before handing it over. Finn’s lips parted soundlessly. “Yours is at home.”

Talon understood immediately. “And I bet you would never have said a word about it if I hadn’t.” Finn would never try and make him feel bad. Finn’s lips curled up into the shy smile he loved. “Open it.”

Finn tore the envelope and grinned when he saw the card. He arched an eyebrow. “This is a valentine card?”

Talon chuckled. “I think it’s a birthday card, but I managed to find one with nothing written on it. He watched as Finn read the words Talon had written and saw the lump travel down Finn’s throat.

super hero with heart

“I think this is you, not me,” Finn said quietly. “You’re the one with the super abilities.”

“Come here,” Talon ordered quietly, and Finn got up, and Talon drew him close until he was sitting on his lap. Talon gently raised Finn’s chin with his finger until their eyes met and held. “Every day. Every day you make me a better person. Every day when I can’t love myself, you do it for me. You have the biggest heart of anyone I know, and I don’t know how the hell I ever got so lucky that you make room in it for me.” Talon thumbed the moisture from under Finn’s eyes and captured his lips with his own.

He had gone to five stores before he had found the card he wanted. It had a picture of Superman on it, and Talon could hear the words as he had written them.

“You are my hero. Love is your superpower, and you save me with it every day.”

Because this one was all about the science.
I wanted superheroes, but I didn’t just want a man in tights (not that a lot of people would object to that) but I needed a reason.
According to the fountain of all knowledge – Google – some babies are being born without their little toe. Some scientists say this is ridiculous, but others are more specific. The plantaris muscle in the foot is used by animals for gripping and manipulating objects with their feet – something you see in Apes. Humans also have this muscle but because of evolution is now unimportant to the extent that 9% of humans are now being born without it.
1 in every 100,000 people are now born without an appendix.
I was now thrilled that I didn’t need a magic wand/Aliens/ a futuristic deadly strain of the common cold or glow in the dark vampires.
My heroes are ordinary humans undergoing natural physiological transformation.
I admit to speeding evolution up a tiny bit, but hey – this is fiction.
And this is where it got to be fun.
In Five Minutes Longer each of my team of enhanced humans have a scientific reason for their ability.
In the first book we find out about Gael:
“I want to know what just happened,” Finn demanded as they shut the truck doors.
“You okay?” Vance asked Gael as Gael winced a little and took his shirt off. Vance brushed a hand over Gael’s back. No bullet hole, no blood.
Finn looked at the material on the shirt suspiciously, then picked it up. He carefully poked his finger through the hole in the back where the bullet had gone through, and with a sinking feeling, raised his eyes to where Vance was watching him steadily.
He thought a second before he ran his mouth off. Then he turned to Talon, who was sitting quietly in the front seat, watching him. “So next time someone’s waving a gun around, can I stand next to Gael, boss?” Finn asked innocently.
Gael guffawed and slapped Finn on the back. Finn tried not to wince.
“I take it this is your other ability? What is it, rapid healing?” Finn frowned. That still didn’t explain the lack of blood, though.
“Not exactly,” Gael answered.
“Gael,” Sawyer said warningly.
Gael looked at the guys sitting around the truck. “We’ve got a decision to make. We can’t work as a team without trust.” He looked at Finn. “To be honest the TV cameras saw me take the bullet, saw me move fast. There’s going to be questions anyway.”
Finn took a breath. “I know you don’t trust me.”
Talon interjected. “It’s not as easy as that. Even Gregory doesn’t know all our abilities, and we can’t expect you to lie if you’re asked a direct question.”
“I can change the…. I dunno.” Gael shrugged. “Last year I got skin cancer.”
Finn gaped.
“Cutaneous Melanoma, to give it its full title.” Gael’s scars twisted when he tried to smile. “It was shit really. It’s the most aggressive form of cancer, and you’re pretty much out of luck if it’s spread.” Gael gazed at Finn. “Mine had. Anyway, Talon and Gregory gave me a chance. We can’t get health insurance, and because the team wasn’t official, the bureau wasn’t gonna pay for anything…. So you met the Doc?”
Finn nodded.
“Well, turns out her daddy is one of the most renowned dermatologists there are, and he was fascinated with me. I had a shit-ton of tests, and I was waiting for the results when we were asked to help with a special op last year. Drug running, but they thought an enhanced was behind it, so they asked for our help… unofficially.”
Finn returned Gael’s smile automatically, even though his heart was doing its best to escape his chest.
“Things went wrong, and Talon got knocked out so he couldn’t help. They had Vance pinned down and were just going to shoot him. I thought, what the hell. It was likely I was going to die anyway so—”
“What he means is, he threw himself at the dick-head with the Tec-9 that was just about to blow my brains out,” Vance interrupted.
Gael chuckled. “The thing happened with my skin like you saw today. None of the bullets touched me. I went for a load of tests, and they found out there’s something called a Klf4 gene in everyone that is responsible for making human skin a barrier. Anyway, I won’t bore you with science, but basically the levels of it in me are off the charts. This gene doesn’t just protect the skin, though—it can have something to do with melanoma and other cancers. The doc called it ‘a double edged sword.’”
Finn swallowed. “It’s an activator and a repressor. That means it helps as well as harms.”
“How the hell do you know all this shit?” Sawyer burst out.
Finn shrugged. “It took me so long to learn to read, once I had, there was no stopping me.”
“Anyway, my skin changing didn’t just save Vance. When I got back and went to Doc’s, all traces of my cancer had gone, and Gregory doesn’t know because Doc’s father doesn’t work for the FBI. Doctor-patient privilege.”
“We keep it secret because we don’t want to end up as lab rats,” Talon said quietly, his blue gaze resting on Finn’s.
Finn frowned. “Secrecy won’t necessarily help that, though. The public knows you saved Cryer’s life—they’re gonna be more on your side.”
“Agreed with provisos,” Talon said. “I don’t want a perp suddenly deciding to see if Gael can withstand armor-piercing rounds.”
They all winced.
Talon started the truck and looked around at everyone. “We agreed on secrecy a long time ago. I get where Finn is coming from, but I’m not gonna insist on it. You all will have to come to your own decision.” Without waiting for a reply, Talon added, “Gregory wants us back at the office.”
Finn stared at his back. He hadn’t forgotten what that reporter said, and despite his nice little speech there, he hadn’t done any sharing. Finn now knew more about Gael than Talon. What he knew about Talon, Vance had told him, and Talon was supposed to be his partner, not just a member of the team. It all came down to trust. Talon gave him no direction out there. He didn’t even tell Finn to stay with him. That showed a glaring lack of trust as far as he was concerned.
He gazed out of the window. He was squashed up against the door, as Gael’s bulk sat next to him. He thought about what that reporter said about Talon. Had Talon really lost control and killed his father? Finn remembered the tightness in his chest when Talon demonstrated his ability on him, how he couldn’t breathe, how he couldn’t move.
Maybe Finn should be the one not trusting the team, not the other way around.

Did you know a human can actually change their DNA? I simplified it a little (maybe more than a little) but there’s a whole science called Epigenetics behind that question. Epigenetics doesn’t come in until the second book – One Step Sideways, but it’s just as fascinating as someone getting bullet-proof skin from the same gene that develops in the uterus to make a baby’s skin waterproof.

Talon was going to kill him…again. Finn really hadn’t meant to invite anyone else. Their first Christmas Day and they’d promised each other they were going to eat turkey in bed. Just the two of them – all day.

Thanksgiving had been a complete bust. Some cop over in Gainesville had decided to arrest an enhanced fifteen-year-old for threatening a store owner that morning except it had turned out the kid was just trying to get help. He was mute and lived alone with his elderly grandmother. She was just pulling a baked ham out of the oven, and she’d had a heart attack. The kid wasn’t trying to threaten anyone, but the store owner had taken one look at the mark on his face; the lightning bolt shaped scar that all enhanced had, and assumed the worst.

So, Finn was determined Christmas was going to be perfect. He had all the recipes from Connie, Vance’s mom, and she had completely understood when they’d turned down the offer of going to their house for dinner. They’d said they might stop by later, but that was when Talon had pulled Finn into his arms, kissed him stupid until his knees gave way, and gruffly told him they would be spending the day in bed. At least he’d waited until they had got to the car to impart that particular news, though.

And he really hadn’t meant to invite Gael.

They’d all been chatting as they’d gotten out of their uniforms the day before. Talon had to go see Gregory over approving a possible new agent that he absolutely refused to discuss with the rest of the team, and Finn had asked Gael casually if Wyatt his younger brother was visiting him for the holiday.

“Nah,” Gael had shrugged. “Wyatt’s got a new girlfriend. He was invited there.”

Finn had paused. “So, are you going to Vance’s then?”

“Probably.”

But Finn had known instantly Gael was lying. Vance had a huge family, and the place would be packed. Gael had a tell when he was stressed. He pulled at the bottom of his scarred cheek with his teeth where it touched his lips. The scar his dad had given him when the drunk had held a twelve-year-old Gael down and tried to burn his enhanced mark off with a gas lighter. Because of the looks of fear Gael got – his mark and the way the left side of his face was all scarred – Gael hated crowds unless he was in uniform. Finn knew damn well he’d spend the day alone in his apartment.

“We’d love it if you came to us,” the words were out of Finn’s mouth before he thought twice, and the shy, hopeful, look Gael gave him made the thought of imminent death at the hands of his boyfriend worth every second.

Not that Talon was an ogre… much. He’d listened as Finn had haltingly told him an hour ago either he was gonna have to get out of bed, or there was gonna be three of them in it. Talon had kissed Finn on the nose and told him he was a softy. Finn had just copied Talon’s trade mark raised eyebrow. It had been Talon who had insisted on staying with the kid at Thanksgiving. Taken him to visit his grandmother in the ER to see she was okay, and then got him settled at the group foster home near where they all lived. Talon was as soft as Finn, he just hid it better.

“It smells amazing,” Gael had greeted them and held up a bottle of the expensive Dutch vodka Talon liked. Finn had waved them both out of the kitchen, flushed, and mildly panicking at what now seemed an insane amount of food he’d bought. They’d both offered to help, but he was relieved when he heard the sound of the game coming on and stared at the mess in the kitchen. In his eagerness to impress his boyfriend, he’d gone a little over board. Finn grinned – understatement.

An hour later he was reading Connie’s instructions on how to make the green bean casserole when the doorbell rang, and he walked out of the kitchen smiling in shock when Vance stepped into the apartment.

“Hey, buddy!” Gael grinned at his friend, a little flushed as he and Talon had been experimenting with the Dutch vodka and the eggnog.

“What are you doing here?” Finn said in surprise as he nearly tripped over Olly. Talon’s black lab was ecstatic every time one of the team came over, and she’d rushed to greet Vance. Vance shrugged.

“There’s like fifteen kids at mine,” Vance grumbled and sat on the corner of the sectional. The sofa dipped alarmingly.

Talon chuckled. “You mean you’ve got no TV to watch the game on?” Vance grinned and chinked the beer bottle with Gael’s glass as Gael passed it to him. Finn immediately reversed back to the kitchen to peel more potatoes.

“Hey,” Talon followed him back into the kitchen. “This isn’t about you being in here, and me being out there. I wanna help.” Talon bent his head and kissed the back of Finn’s neck, and turned him around gently taking the potato peeler out of his hand.

The doorbell rang, and Talon groaned. Finn pushed him out. “Go see who it is.”

Finn came out of the kitchen a few minutes later and stopped in astonishment as their boss; Tony Gregory stood talking to Talon. Finn blinked. The man looked quite good in jeans. Couple that with the peppered gray hair and easy smile and he looked about ten years younger than normal.

“Sir?” Finn squeaked in alarm. Shit, were they gonna get called out?

Tony turned and smiled. “Don’t worry. I was on my way to my sister’s, and I was passing so I just thought I’d say hello.” He pushed a bag awkwardly under the tree and said his goodbyes hurriedly.

“Hey, Talon?” Gael called and picked up a present from under the tiny Christmas tree. “Santa’s been, and you haven’t opened your presents.” Finn flushed bright red. Oh dear God, no. He knew exactly what was in that and the last thing he wanted was it opening in front of anyone else. Gael saw his face and grinned evilly.

The doorbell rang for the third time. Talon just leveled Finn a look as he got to his feet, but Finn had no idea who it was.

But I really should have he thought, as Sawyer and Eli walked in. “We’re not stopping,” Sawyer said hurriedly, and Eli dug his hands into his pockets and looked at the floor. “We were just on the way past.”

Finn gave his boyfriend kudos for not so much raising an eyebrow at the obvious lie and bolted back into the kitchen.

“Finn?” Finn looked up from stabbing the turkey as Eli came in. “Talon says we could stay, but I wanted to check with you.” He looked down at Finn as Finn poked the thing with a knife. “I think it’s dead,” he said dryly.

Finn didn’t look up. He knew Eli was looking at the disaster area that was their kitchen. He was probably going to come out with some smart comment about Finn being as useless in the kitchen as he was at the FBI. The sound of a faucet being turned on had him looking, though. He tried not to gape as Eli started stacking pans to wash.

“You don’t have to do that,” Finn stammered.

Eli ignored him and quietly carried on. In five minutes working together, they could actually see counters. “Thanks,” Finn said.

“I never had this,” Eli replied so quietly Finn barely heard him. He flushed slightly. “I don’t mean the food.”

Yeah, Finn had sort of guessed that. “Clearing up a disaster zone?” Finn quipped.

“Can I help?” It was Sawyer. Finn made a quick decision. Trying to do everything was just pushing people away. It was dumb.

“Mash,” Finn said nodding to the potatoes.

“With cheese?” Sawyer rubbed his hands gleefully and opened the fridge.

“You doing green bean casserole?” Vance asked from the door.

“I was thinking about it,” Finn replied cautiously. “Your mom wrote down how to do it.” His own mom had always just bought pre-prepared shop items.

Vance chuckled. “Mom thinks she knows the recipe but dad has perfected it over the years. You got any bacon?”

Finn grinned as Talon and Gael walked in. The small kitchen was getting kind of full. Talon took over the turkey and Gael pushed Finn down on a chair producing two beer bottles. One he opened and passed to Finn, one he threw at Vance who promptly opened it and mixed it into the sauce he was making. Gael started frying bacon under Vance’s watchful eye. Talon just cleared up as people finished with things.

“Where are we eating?” Talon suddenly said, and Finn nearly choked on his beer; their kitchen table was barely big enough for two of them, and Vance was two people just on his own.

“That’s easy,” Vance said. “We just put everything out on the counters, plate up what we want and go sit in the there.” He nodded to the lounge. Finn smiled. He was going to do this elaborate place setting idea he’d seen on TV, but suddenly Vance’s idea seemed better.

The meal was easily the best thing Finn had ever eaten in his life. He was perched on the floor with his back wedged in between Talon’s legs. The game had finished, and Gael was eyeing the bag Gregory had pushed under the tree. “Hey, this one’s got my name on,” and he dragged the bag out. “We’ve all got one,” he chuckled and passed everyone a present from the bag.

Talon approved the bottle of wine he opened. Vance chuckled at the key-ring with the tiny free weights attached and the card that said Vance had to try and not break these. Gregory had actually had to get the team their own gym at the field office because Vance kept breaking all the equipment in the regular one. Sawyer got an Amazon gift voucher and Eli a book on old Harley Davidsons which he was thrilled with. Finn opened his eagerly then blushed a deep red at the T-shirt inside.

Talon grinned and held it up so everyone could see another Superman T-shirt to add to his collection. Talon cleared his throat. “Actually, Gael can you pass me that small red envelope?”

Gael pulled an envelope out from behind the tree that Finn knew for sure hadn’t been there that morning. Gael passed it to Talon, and Talon solemnly handed it to Finn. “Merry Christmas.”

Finn took it with shaking hands. His boyfriend’s blue eyes darkened. He opened the envelope, and a key slid out. Finn looked at Talon in confusion. Talon stood up. “C’mon.” All the team followed Talon as he solemnly walked Finn to the elevator and down to the parking garage. Talon came to a stop next to his monster truck and then moved Finn to the side so he could see what was next to it.

A gleaming blue Mustang coupe. Finn stared, completely unable to find words. Sawyer took the key from him and got behind the wheel and started the engine. He got back out and handed him the key. “It’s a sweet ride.”

Finn swallowed quickly. He’d bought an old Taurus three months ago, and no matter how many times Vance’s uncle tried to fix it, it had constantly let him down. He’d wanted to be independent as usual, and instead of asking for advice he’d bought the car straight off the lot. It had been a disaster, but Talon hadn’t even once given him shit about it.

“How did it get here?” Finn asked in awe.

“Sawyer drove it here, and Eli followed in his car,” Talon answered.

Finn’s eyes narrowed, remembering how Talon didn’t seem fazed at Gael’s arrival. His eyes narrowed. “You knew everyone was coming.”

Vance chuckled. “Like we were gonna miss this.”

“Besides, we’re family.” Gael cuffed Finn on his head. “You gotta include us.”

Talon turned him around so he was facing him. “Do you like it?” he asked, and Finn heard the catch in his breath. Finn smiled and launched himself at Talon to be caught and wrapped up in his big strong arms. All these months he’d tried to be independent. Worried every minute he wasn’t strong enough, fast enough, or even capable enough around his enhanced team, and it was dumb.

They needed to be needed just like him. Every one of them was his family from Talon who kept his heart beating to Eli because he’d included him.

It was going to be the best Christmas ever.

I didn’t get the idea for Five Minutes Longer and then write the characters. I started out with Finlay Mayer and wrote him a story.

All about Finn and making him a hero or why a B-average student gets a job with the FBI.

Finlay “Finn” Mayer is 24 years old. He comes from a small town and at fourteen his dyslexia is quickly turning him off school. He’d already started missing days. Homework deadlines fell by the wayside and his excuses were a bigger work of fiction than the stories he’d been asked to write in the first place.

The senior college uptake rate at his high school is abysmal and the graduation levels weren’t all that impressive so the new principal arranges for people with “cool” jobs to come in and talk to the Freshman year. A bored – well on his way to a life of crime –14-year-old Finn walks into the school hall to listen to two FBI agents come to talk about their careers. He walks out a different person. His dream of joining the FBI starts at that moment and he starts his ten-year-long battle to make it happen.

His dad had come home from the Vietnam war in a wheelchair and battled depression every single day.

His mom was only ever concerned with appearances. Her hair. Her nails. Her committees.

His brother Deke – 37 years – lazy. Homophobic and convinced that Finn needs to forget his insane idea of going to college and come and work for him in his insurance business.

For personal reasons Dyslexia and its challenges are important to me so it was something Finn was going to have. It’s quite common for bright kids to only start struggling in middle school or above, and Finn has two huge obstacles to his dreams by this time. He knows that less than 7% of applicants actually get chosen for the FBI and a lot of forums say that number is actually much lower. He is convinced a diagnosis of dyslexia would make his tiny chance completely disappear so he keeps under the teacher’s radar. Assignments are always diligently carried out. Never a missed deadline. Never a missed class.

It’s just his test scores that are crap, and nothing he ever does will bring his averaged out grades any higher.

By fifteen he knows he is gay. He has also read that while the FBI don’t actually discriminate against it, apparently it’s something people might get blackmailed over, so Finn buries that as well. He even takes a girl to prom.

Then we have the FBI interview and selection process.

After the four-year college degree and a minimum age of twenty-three for applicants there are only five areas of experience/expertise that the FBI take from.

Language, Law, Accounting, Computer Science, or a mix of them.

Back to the undiagnosed dyslexia – computer science, Law and languages were huge obstacles. I originally had Finn’s brother a deputy sheriff and him joining him, but then I decided that was too convenient and the Finn that I now knew wouldn’t do that.

Dyslexia and being clever with numbers aren’t mutually exclusive, and are often quite common. Different sides of the brain tackle these two areas, so I make Finn clever because Dyslexia isn’t a synonym for stupid – often the reverse, and Finn becomes good at Math. His four-year degree and experience qualify him for the FBI.

So, my shy lovable geek gets his dream job in a very roundabout way – and why not?

This original post appears in Scattered Thoughts and Rogue words book blog.

Got your attention, huh?

Actually, this post isn’t what you’re probably thinking it might be about. I haven’t just checked out my reviews on Goodreads or anything even scarier – I am in the middle of doing my research for my Innocent series. The Innocent Auction and The Innocent Betrayal are both English Regency historicals set in 1810 and 1811 respectively.

I love reading romance, any kind, and growing up I would read whatever my mum had lying around, and it was always books filled with dashing heroes, beautiful heroines, balls, duels, and lashings of brandy and cups of tea.

Okay, so my reading tastes might have changed slightly – but my love of this era is still strong.

When I decided to write The Innocent Auction, it was knowing the undeniable fact that homosexuality was a hanging offense, and it still would be until 1861.

Poverty and crime were also rife. The slums of London – called The Rookeries – had no running water or plumbing, just open sewers, crime, suffering, and death.

Somewhere in the middle of all this, I wanted a love story – a happy ever after one – but not one that pretended none of these problems existed. I wasn’t just going to wave a magic author wand…or pen.

I have never had to do so much research for a book in all my life. No condoms, no lube – they used rose oil – how my characters ate, how they dressed, and how they spoke to each other.

Which brings me back to the title of this blog post.

I needed a swear word. Bugger and bleedin’ hell worked well – but at that second in my writing my character needed to say fuck. I was stuck – completely convinced that this was so modern there was no way I could use it. So, I hit the research – again.

And what do you know? The word “fuck” used in a sexual connotation dates back to the fifteenth century, and okay the poem was translated from Latin, but that was good enough for me. So – whatever else they did or didn’t say three hundred years later than that poem was written, in 1811 my characters weren’t giving a fuck either.

The Innocent Proposal should be finished next month and out sometime in December. There’s an EXCLUSIVE sneak peak of the first few paragraphs at the end of the post.

Chapter One

“Shite.”

Jack cowered as he heard the guard curse and fling the iron gate open, but he didn’t even spare a glance as the man rushed in. He was concentrating on keeping the meagre contents of his stomach down and trying to distance himself from the smaller, cold body despite them being still shackled together.

Charlie was dead. Pale, still. Eyes closed, thank fuck. Not that Jack wasn’t used to death.

Death happened every day in Seven Dials. It was what happened to the living that still shocked the crap out of him, even though he should be used to nothing else now.

“What the ’ell did you do?” Carter, the guard, snarled and grabbed Jack by the throat.

“Nowt. I aint done nowt,” Jack wheezed around the hand that was choking him. His fingers scrabbling ineffectually against the iron grip.

“Or bleedin ’ell,” another voice cussed. Smith, another guard, ducked under the beam as he entered Jack’s cell — what was supposed to be the washroom. Because of overcrowding, of the hulks — the rotting war ships moored on the Thames used to house prisoners awaiting deportation — were now filled with hammocks slung together to cram in as many as possible.

“It’ll be the jail fever,” Smith peered at the small, pitiful form of Charlie still on the hammock.

Jack was suddenly let go and he sagged against the wall next to the hammock, pulling oxygen down his abused throat.

The washroom was so small they could only put the smallest prisoners down here, shackled together in pairs, and because of that the hammocks, also slung together, were nothing but tattered rags that wouldn’t hold a man’s body. Jack was small for his age but Jack’s own had given way two nights ago and he’d spent last night curled up with Charlie in his.

Trouble was Charlie was too soft, and at fourteen, a good few years younger than he was.

He also hadn’t grown up in a dump like Jack had. He wasn’t used to scrabbling about in human shite on the off chance the shiny thing he’d seen might be some’at he could sell. He wasn’t used to choking down the disgusting moldy biscuits that they called food in this place, and even worse the black stuff that passed for water that likely came straight from the Thames. Jack was. He’d lived in some bad places, except in here he was chained. At least in Neal’s Yard he could escape the bastards that wanted a hole to screw, or at least get some coin for it. In here he had no choice.

He fell asleep because he was too exhausted to stay awake after a ten hour day working on the river and the guards simply locked the decks at night. He’d woken terrified more times than he could count. Once to get beaten when the guy couldn’t hold him still long enough to bugger him and the man had finally lost his temper, and once when another man interfered with the one that wanted to have him. Jack had made an agreement for protection then. Any food he could steal went to Keller and a few times he’d had to suck his filthy cock. He was lucky Keller was more interested in the food.

Then a fortnight ago the guards had moved some of them to temporary hammocks in the washrooms and he’d gotten out of the way on a night. Best thing that had happened to him in the four months he had been stuck down here.

Jack gazed at the slight, still body in despair. As soon as he’d woken up and touched the cold body, he’d known. He’d had a dad once. They all slept in the same bed and he remembered what waking up alongside a stiff and deathly cold body felt like. He’d promised himself it would never happen again…and now look.

“What the hell are we going to do?” Smith whispered as if the warden two decks above could hear him against the oaths and rattling of chains as their prisoners tried to move.

“How the ’ell should I bleedin know?” the other guard hissed. “He’s expecting a boy, and if the carriage is owt to go by, there’ll be some coin in it.”

Smith paled. “Warden’ll kill us.”

The other guard pounced again on Jack. “He’ll do. He wants a boy to shag, we’ll give him one.”

Smith looked aghast. “He wants a young boy. He’ll never pass for fourteen.”

Jack struggled. Nothing he’d heard convinced him what he was wanted for was a good Pain bloomed in his face as Smith punched him. Jack’s head snapped back and his legs folded. “Keep still if yer know what’s good for yer.” The other guard quickly unshackled his irons and Smith simply hoisted Jack over his shoulder. The room spun sharply and the noise faded, drowned by the roaring in his ears. He was barely aware of being carried up the ladders to the deck.

Suddenly, he was dumped unceremoniously onto the floor and he just managed to roll over as he retched. There was nothing in his stomach to heave up, but his body didn’t seem to know that.

“What in heavens happened?” Jack barely heard the cultured words, and tried to open his eyes in confusion.

“Hammock snapped and he fell out,” Smith answered quickly.

“For God’s sake, give him a drink, man,” he heard the voice order.

Jack choked and spluttered as Smith heaved him up and beer was nearly forced down his throat. He gipped again.

“I said give him a drink, not try and drown him,” the man snapped impatiently and confused, Smith let go. Jack’s legs were still not working and he stumbled only to be caught in strong arms.

“M’lord, he’s filthy,” Jack heard someone else protest.

Jack knew he was talking about him but he wasn’t about to protest when he was gently swung up into the same strong arms and held. Jack inhaled a lung full of the man’s smell he didn’t have another word to use to call it except … clean. He hadn’t smelled anything clean in…well, never really.

Maybe it wasn’t just Charlie who had died. He shivered uncontrollably. “The blanket,” he heard the nice voice say and he was wrapped in something warm and soft. Tears pricked Jack’s closed eyes and his throat tightened. Something else that never happened. Crying was a waste of good water his dad had always said. Some days he’d been so thirsty down here he knew his body didn’t even have tears, but he didn’t want to die. Another few weeks in this dump and he may change his mind, but he wasn’t convinced he wouldn’t have found some way to escape. Every day he planned and tried to stay alive long enough to make it happen.

Then he’d woken up chained to Charlie’s dead body and for a few seconds he’d given up.

For a few seconds Charlie had looked so peaceful. He wasn’t shaking or pissing himself in fear like the day before, and Jack had wanted that.

Looked like his wish had been granted. Jack sighed and stopped attempting to open his eyes. At least dying was warm and smelled good. Maybe the heaven stuff was true and his dad would meet him…Jack settled into the warmth and let the blackness that had hovered around his mind swallow him up and carry him away.

101 Dalmatians!

I know, right? Favorite book, ever when I was a kid. Written in 1956 (**coughs – I wasn’t actually alive then, just saying.)

I’m only pointing it out because Dodie Smith, the author, who wrote what I think is a classic children’s book – wrote a sequel that few people ever even heard of because that wasn’t ever made into a film.

The Starlight Barking – written in 1967 – gave me the idea for Sirius Wolves. I’ve never told anyone this before because, well basically, no one ever asked.

But just to backtrack a little… The Starlight Barking. Pongo (you remember him – daddy dog to all those puppies, all 101 of them?) wakes up along with all the other dogs on the planet to find out that the humans are still asleep, and they stay asleep – and the dogs can’t wake them up.

Apparently, Sirius (yep – Sirius Wolves) who in this book is the Lord of the Dog Star and had decided that all the dogs on Earth are going to come and live with her on her planet to avoid nuclear war. (Think about the year this anti-war book was written in and you realize that this wasn’t just a children’s book.)

I never forgot either of these books, and now I need to give you a little background of Egyptian mythology.

According to the ancient Egyptians, Sirius and Orion formed the human race. The three great pyramids at Giza were built in unique alignment to Orion’s Belt and The Great Pyramid has air shafts that point directly to Orion. What is even more astonishing is that an ancient site, similar to Stonehenge in England, was built before the rise of the Egyptians and is similarly aligned by builders that were unaware of the level of physics and mathematics at that time that would be needed to make that happen.

It was my fascination for the “dog-star” that made me research all this and gave me the idea that Sirius didn’t just create humans, and dogs, but that she created another creature to be the best of both – werewolves.

Domestic dogs aren’t thought to be descendants of wolves. It is believed that both domestic dogs and wolves are both descendants of a now extinct common ancestor. (You can hear the plot bunnies jumping all over the place, can’t you?)

I made the Alphas – Blaze, Darric, and Conner – a triad because they symbolized the Three Great Pyramids. I made them need a fourth – Aden – because my idea was he would symbolize the human race. (And yeah, I’m shallow – I thought sex between four guys would be off the charts hot.)

The idea of the next Alpha – Marcus – that he would be totally human was, to me, the next obvious step. Sirius’ whole intention was the saving of the human race, and the hybrids naturally followed.

I want to say two last things.

One – a huge thank you. To my readers, especially those that have stuck with the whole series, to the reviewers (especially Caroline) who have read the whole series, and to Dodie Smith – who gave me years of happy reading as a child, and the inspiration as an adult.

Two – Full Circle (out October 18th) is the last book. You will have to read it to understand why, but as this series isn’t stand-alone it’s getting too complicated to reiterate the back story of nearly six books without ruining them.

There are an awful lot of kids (cubs) though…I guess they will have a lot of stories when they grow up, but I think they need a year, or two.

Most people don't know but the Roman Emperor Hadrian (who built Hadrian's wall to separate England from Scotland) and ruled Britain, was a very much "out" homosexual. Fast forward to the beginning of the nineteenth century and things in London had taken a distinct turn for the worse. Punishments ranged from imprisonment, to standing at pillory - often resulting in brain damage, depending on what the unfortunates were being pelted with, to hanging.
Many "bath" or "molly" houses existed in London at that time. Some were for prostitution, and some were meeting places for couples unable to find anywhere else to go.
On the 8th July 1810, the Bow St. Runners (the law enforcers at that time) mounted a raid on such a house. Twenty-seven men were arrested.
Most of the men were set free due to lack of evidence, but the heartbreaking end note to one of the most shameful periods in London's past was this. A fourteen year old boy, James Mann, who wasn't even present during the raid, was later convicted of buggery and hung outside Newgate Prison. Small, light,human bodies when hung often didn't die straight away; the weight of their bodies was insufficient to break their necks.
I can't imagine the suffering these men went through.
Most people think regency romances are all about ball gowns and drinking tea. The Innocent Auction is something different. This is the story of two men who have to battle incredible obstacles to get their happy ever after, in a world where love wasn't the solution, but a problem that could cost them their lives. The Innocent Auction

“I’ll give you a year.”

That was the words my husband said when we discussed me working part-time instead of full-time. It wasn’t as bad as it sounds here – we’re not made of money – and we had a business to run that satisfied the legal requirements for getting our grubby paws on the coveted green cards.

I think it was more that he was sick of not seeing me evenings and weekends.

I blame him, though. He was the one to buy me a kindle for my birthday in November 2013. I’ve always loved reading, but all of a sudden I could read smut without going to Barnes and Noble and cringing at being served by an eleven year old.

Then I made my next big discovery – free books! (I’m still a member of kindle unlimited) I loved paranormal – shapeshifters especially. I was reading m/f (guys and girls) because I hadn’t yet discovered mm (sigh).

Then my world came crashing to a halt because I read two really bad books. One was bad because I don’t think it had ever seen an editor, and the other because there was absolutely no story. Don’t get me wrong; I like my characters getting down and dirty with each other, but something else happening would be cool as well.

I complained (I was in a shitty mood anyway) to my husband about how even I could do better, and that’s when he said the words that are probably going to haunt him for the rest of his life. “So, you write one then.”

Which led to me doing a complete disappearing act for two months before the conversation about the above-mentioned work and working part-time came in.

I started with a m/f paranormal about werewolves, and I was completely stunned when it was accepted. (My husband even more so.)

At the same time as I was doing edits for that, I discovered mm (two hot guys loving each other for those of you that don’t know) and was completely hooked. I’d been playing around with a story in my head for a week or so – and Pure was born.

Pure was published in December 2014, exactly eleven months after I started writing. Since then Pure Indulgence was released, and this month – Pure Innocence followed.

Pure Integrity is 1700 words in and counting!

I still love werewolves, and my first mm werewolf shifter romance will be published at the end of this month. But, I’ll leave the news about that one until next time!

http://diversereader.blogspot.co.uk/2...

#LGBTQ Push Back #Charity #Giveaway

 

 

It started when my sister Sarah overheard me talking to my boyfriend on the phone. That afternoon, under the football stadium bleachers, Jonathan and I had our first kiss, and I told him how much I liked it, how I wanted to do it again. I didn’t notice the click of another phone in the house being picked up, but I sure heard it when my parents yelled my full name.

“Elijah Michael Goodman, come here right this second!”

“I gotta go,” I whispered to Jonathan, and hung up before he could say anything. My heart was in my throat as I went downstairs to the living room to see my mother and father standing there, looking for all the world like they’d swallowed lemons.

“Who were you on the phone with?” Dad asked.

 

“Jonathan,” I answered truthfully. They thought he was my best friend. “Why?”

“What were you talking about?” Mom demanded, her voice shaking.

I squirmed and did the only thing I could with no time to think. I lied. “A test in Algebra tomorrow.”

“That’s not what Sarah heard,” Dad challenged, eyes flashing.

Oh shit, I thought, but would never say out loud. My parents would tan my hide if I swore in front of them, then take me to confession.

My silence made them angrier. Dad’s face turned red. “She said you kissedJonathan.”

There was no way to refute that. I wasn’t a good liar. All I could do was take a deep breath and nod, hoping they’d see the pleading in my eyes.

“Are you gay?” Mom demanded. Another nod.

The rest is a blur. My mother began screaming about my soul and salvation, and they wouldn’t listen when I tried to tell them I tried not to be interested in guys, but it was impossible. My dad went quiet, which was scarier than if he’d yelled, or even taken out the belt.

Roughly grabbing my arm, he marched me up to my room, got out a duffel bag, and threw three changes of clothes in it, grabbed my deodorant from the top of the dresser, and shoved my shoes at my chest. Then he dragged me back downstairs, twisting my ankle in the process, and threw me out the front door, the duffel landing beside me on the dry, brown lawn.

“Don’t come back. You’re not our son anymore.”

My heart, having never left my throat, exploded, taking with it my ability to breathe. What did he mean? Don’t come back, ever?

That’s how it started. By the time I’d walked to Jonathan’s, my parents—no, Mr. and Mrs. Goodman—had already called his parents, and his mother met me at the door with crossed arms and a stern expression, telling me Jonathan wasn’t home, and that he wasn’t allowed to see me. As I’d walked away shivering, tears stinging my cheeks in the cold November air, I’d looked back. Jonathan was at his bedroom window, holding an ice pack to his eye and looking miserable. He gave a tentative wave, which I returned.

I had no choice. I had no money. I didn’t have my coat. No phone. And no one to call anyway.

That first night, I slept in the doorway of a shop downtown. Maybe I could shovel driveways for money when the snows hit. I didn’t think anyone would hire a fourteen year old to work as a busboy or store clerk. I’d been trying to talk my mother, I mean Amanda, into letting me get a job, but she’d just kept telling me to be a kid as long as I could, that I was too young to get a job in Indiana anyway.

For two days, I went up and down the stores on Main Street, but no one needed help, and the ones that did said I needed a work permit. To get one, I needed my birth certificate to prove my age. I couldn’t get it without my guardians’ help, and I had no guardians.

By day three, I was so hungry, I gave my first blowjob for twenty bucks. The guy was a trucker at the local diner, and the cab of his rig smelled like B.O. When he was done, he patted my head like I was a good boy. My face burned with shame. Hating myself, I tried not to cry when I walked to the Goodwill store to buy a coat with my dirty money. That left me five dollars to get something to eat.

In a way, that first week was hard, but also easy. I still looked like a normal kid, if a little dingy around the edges. People still served me if I had the money to pay. No one said I couldn’t loiter. The hard part was when I stopped trying to survive long enough to think about my dad’s—George’s—last words to me. You’re not our son anymore. I ached at those words.

A couple weeks later, I saw Sarah coming out of the stationery store with her friends. Her eyes got huge when she saw me, but she didn’t speak or wave. Didn’t tell me if my—her—parents regretted what they’d done. She did, however, look back at me one more time before they got on their bikes and rode off. Her face was wet.

After that, I walked by what used to be my home. Maybe Sarah would help me. Maybe she could get my birth certificate. The next time I saw her, she pretended I wasn’t there.

For months, I ghosted around town, trying to stay away from cops, who’d realized I wasn’t just some kid, and that I was up to no good. I tried to keep going to school, but I didn’t have my backpack or my books or my school supplies, and the lunch ladies wouldn’t give me food without my account being paid up.

It was the day I saw my face on a Missing Person’s poster outside the local diner that I met Brandon. I started to retreat, but he spoke, and his voice didn’t carry the disdain I’d become used to.

“They do that, sometimes,” he said, standing next to me as I stared at the smiling kid I’d once been. “Parents will tell the truancy officers you’re a runaway so they get out of trouble when you drop out of school too young. How old is that picture?”

“Three years.”

He nodded sagely. “You’re what, fourteen, fifteen?”

“Fifteen,” My birthday was a month ago. I’d celebrated by doing three blowjobs in one night, then buying myself a new pair of shoes because the ones I’d been wearing had pinched my growing feet. Sucking guys off for money was the only work I could get. I had what they called “cocksucker lips” and as sick as it made me, I used them to my full advantage.

“Puberty changes you enough no one will recognize you even if they look at the photos on the notice boards,” Brandon continued.

“How did you?” I asked suspiciously.

“The look on your face.” He turned and stuck out his hand. “Nice to meet you, Elijah Goodman. I’m Brandon Maxwell.”

I didn’t shake his hand immediately. What does he want? He wasn’t bad looking, and frankly, he smelled a lot better than my last customer.

He chuckled and gripped my wrist with one hand, then closed his fingers over my palm with the other, pumping it twice. “Have you eaten?”

Not since I’d scavenged some soggy tacos from the trash behind a fast food restaurant two nights ago. The last one was lunch the day before. “It’s been a few hours.”

“Come on.” He led me into the diner, and the waitress who’d thrown me out last week started to yell again, until Brandon shut her down with a look. We sat in a cracked vinyl booth and he passed the laminated menu over. “Order as much as you want.”

There had to be a catch, but I couldn’t turn down the opportunity to fill my belly. I’d grown a few inches since the day of the First Kiss Phone Call, and I was always hungry, and conscious of my wrists and ankles protruding from my clothes. Ordering a burger, two chili cheese dogs, fries, a Coke, and a piece of pie, I barely spoke as Brandon talked, telling me about the shelter he and his partner ran for kids like me.

I was one of the lucky ones, finding help after only months on the streets. I hadn’t resorted to riskier behavior for money. I hadn’t been attacked, though many of the street kids I knew had been. I hadn’t gotten pneumonia or hypothermia during that long winter, and when Brandon found me, there was a bed available right away.

I will never forget the pillow beneath my head the night he brought me to the shelter. The comfort of blankets. How warm felt. Sleeping without worry of being jumped. I knew what I had lost, but not how to get it back. All because of a phone call about my first kiss, and the Goodmans’ conviction I was an abomination.

Thanks to Brandon, in the three years since being tossed out of my home for being gay, I’m back on track. Got my GED and my important papers. In a few months, I start college. Thanks to the generosity of kindhearted donors to Brandon’s shelter, who accept LGBT people as human beings, I survived.

While Elijah’s story is fiction, here are some facts. LGBT people make up less than 10% of the overall population, yet 40% of homeless kids in the U.S. identify as LGBT. Of them, 68% cited family rejection for the reason they were on the streets. Studies have repeatedly shown that homeless LGBT kids are more at risk of being attacked, robbed, and raped than their heterosexual counterparts, more likely to engage in prostitution or survival sex, more likely to turn to drugs or alcohol, and more likely to attempt or commit suicide. Despite this, less than 25% of homeless shelters cater for or specifically target LGBT kids, leaving them at the mercy of individual organizations who can pick and choose who they help and who they abandon on the streets. Laws such as Indiana’s SB 101 enshrine the legality of refusing service—including such basic assistance as food and shelter—to people specifically because they’re LGBT.

This isn’t about pizza. This is about creating a climate in which LGBT individuals feel isolated from and rejected by the rest of society. It’s about creating a climate in which parents feel justified for kicking their kids out on the street. It’s about cutting off any and all support networks which might otherwise be available to prevent kids from ending up on life’s scrapheap because of how they were born.

Want to read a happier ending?

Changing laws and attitudes takes time, and right now there are LGBT people in need who can’t afford to wait. The sooner we can help them, the better, and the more resources we have, the more help we can offer.

That’s why 224 authors, review bloggers, and publishers have got together to offer something wonderful: a reward for people who do a little bit to give back to charity. Instead of spending $5 on a book in the next two weeks, give that $5 to an LGBT charity of your choice, tell us about it in the comments, and go into the draw to win a book from one of our participating donors. And because it’s not all about money, if you can’t make a donation then please take a moment to share a charity’s links and tell us about that instead.

Three fundraisers have been set up to counter the hateful effects of Indiana’s SB 101. #Pizza4Equality is aiming to match the money raised by *that* pizza parlor, with all donations going to Cyndi Lauper’s True Colors Fund. Another fundraiser is aiming to raise $100,000 for Indiana Youth Group. Finally, Planting Peace is trying to raise $100,000 to provide beds for homeless LGBT people.

Please consider giving to one of these deserving fundraisers, or any other LGBT charity anywhere in the world. We’re not telling you where you should donate your time and money, only asking that you do. The smallest things can make the biggest difference, and together, we can do something incredible.

*First Kiss is a work of fiction copyright 2015 by AJ Rose and any resemblance to actual places or people, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

 

Meet the 224 authors, bloggers, and publishers…  The link is above

The Charity Giveaway will run from the 18th of April until the 1st of May. You will be contacted by your paired up author/giver. Remember to PLEASE check your spam. Due to the high volume of donations it can take a few days to hear. Please be patient. Thank you ALL for giving. Thank you to all the 224 Givers in this charity giveaway.

It feels good to push back!