Don’t Let Me Drown (The Divergency Series 05) by Andy Siege #BlogTour #OtherWorldsInk #LGBTQ+ #Romance #Intersex #Bisexual

Moonbeams over Atlanta welcomes Andy Siege to the blog. Don’t Let Me Drown is the 5th book in the The Divergency Series, and recently released on May 6th, 2025. You do not need to read the other books in the series to enjoy this one.

BOOK BLURB

So begins a race to the border, one step ahead of the rebel army. But as love grows between them and the country is submerged in innocent blood, Aaron comes to understand that he’s not saving Mary. She’s saving him.

Amidst the horrors of war, can Aaron rediscover hope?

Warnings: Violence, Drug Abuse, Depression, Explicit Sex

SERIES BLURB

Unusual stories about racially diverse, neurodivergent characters of marginalised orientations and gender alignments. Enter bizarre, thought-provoking new worlds in these speculative novellas that explore deeply relevant themes in an irreverent way.

These are stand-alone novellas and can be read in any order.
1 – Vinny
2 – Schizotopia
3 – Invisible Lines
4 – Mohamed in the Stars

Buy Links:
Amazon


EXCERPT

CHAPTER ONE

I’m chilling at the bottom of a swimming pool. Being down here, deep underwater, feels amazing. I can’t hold my breath forever though. I wish I could, or that maybe I would drown. Unfortunately, that’s not how human beings work, and eventually my stupid survival instincts will force me to resurface.

Did you know that crocodiles can hold their breath for up to an hour?

I’m behaving like an idiot and I should be embarrassed. I’m an adult and I need to get out and get dressed. I have responsibilities and a job to do. I’m an award-winning photographer, for fuck’s sake. I worked hard to get where I am.

I haven’t taken a photograph since Greece. The last picture I took was of a drowned toddler in a Mickey Mouse T-shirt, curled up on the beach with shallow waves lapping at his little body. The boy and his entire family tried to come over to Europe by motorboat, but a storm flipped them over and they all died. The toddler’s father, mother, and two sisters lay washed up further down the sandbank, with bloated bellies and wide-open eyes.

The Aegean Sea is beautiful at sunrise. I must have taken a thousand photographs with my most expensive Ceica Camera, but only that one specific picture was broadcast around the world. You’ve probably seen it in a newspaper or on TV. In the photograph, the little boy in the Mickey Mouse shirt looks like he’s sleeping, except that his lips are just a bit too blue, and his face is too relaxed. Also, a child wouldn’t be sleeping right in the surf as the sun rises over the Aegean.

My lungs start to burn and there is a kind of pressure building inside my brain, pushing me to resurface out of the swimming pool. I manage to hold my breath for a few more seconds while I rise, and then I pop my head out of the water and gasp.

Soft reggae tunes float through the air, and I smell curry and wood smoke from the buffet by the bar. I’m alone at the pool, apart from one high-class prostitute who is reclining in a pool chair, sipping water through a straw.

The African country of Miberia is at war, so the Western tourists and professionals have all left the country. The only foreigners still here are diplomats, weapons dealers, and journalists like me. I’m staying at the Crystal Hotel, which is a Chinese style high rise, painted blue and with bluish window glass. Even though it’s almost happy hour, and the buffet is extravagant, there’s no one at the bar. I arrived this morning, and the only other guests I saw at lunch were a pair of sketchy looking Asian businessmen.

I was supposed to take a taxi to the outskirts of the city today, to start photographing refugees, but I didn’t. The problem I have right now is a complex state of artistic paralysis. I haven’t taken a picture in many months. You see, people think that I’m good at taking photographs, but the truth is that every good picture I’ve ever taken mystifies me. When I got that major award for the picture of the drowned toddler, I pretended to know what I did to deserve it. But actually, I don’t know what I did, and I fear that I’ll never take a picture that good ever again.

I swim to the edge of the pool and then hoist myself up and out. I have a towel and a papaya vodka cocktail waiting for me on a rickety iron table. I dry myself off and down the drink, while doing a casual sweep of my surroundings. The walls around the hotel courtyard are tall and topped with razor wire. I wonder if they added the razor wire because of the war outside or if it has always been there. I hear a gunshot off in the distance. Somewhere in the city, someone may have just lost their life, and I wasn’t there to take the picture.

I believe in fate. I believe that things happen for a reason. But that poses an ethical problem. You see, I’m a war photographer, so when I take a picture of something horrible, I ask myself if that horrible thing happened just so that I could take a picture of it. Do you follow? I ask myself if the act of me taking a photograph caused the drowning of that little boy in the Mickey Mouse shirt. The obvious answer is no, but hear me out. That little boy’s death, together with my camera, sparked a global conversation about refugees. Fate?

The high-class prostitute on the other side of the pool just winked at me. I don’t find her particularly sexy. I haven’t found anyone sexy in a long time, actually. My libido seems to have died with that toddler in Greece. I can still appreciate the aesthetics of a beautiful person, healthy skin, good teeth, an outgoing personality, but I just can’t get a boner anymore. I shake my head at the prostitute so that she gets it.

There’s a war going on in Miberia. A complex, brutal, bloody beast of a war, and I’m here to take pictures. So now I ask myself, does my presence here mean that bad things will happen just so that I can photograph them? If that’s true, then it might be better if I just stay at the Crystal Hotel, if I don’t venture out into the city, out into the countryside where entire villages are getting butchered. Maybe my presence out there will cause more atrocities to happen. That’s a crippling thought.

I make my way over to the buffet by the bar. There’s roasted chicken and rice that smells like curry and cinnamon. I load my plate with the exotic food and take a seat at a small table. The chow is delicious, probably because the ingredients are much fresher than anything from the supermarket back in Canada. I feel a little shitty though, because I know that while I’m pigging out, about thirty percent of the population of Miberia is starving. There isn’t anything I can do about that, of course, plus I’m hungry.

The two Asian businessmen who I saw at lunch come in through the gate. They’re tall, with unremarkable haircuts, intelligent eyes, and pot bellies. I wonder what category of war profiteer they fall under. Are they weapons salesmen, diplomats, military advisors, diamond miners? They both nod at me, although they don’t smile. I spent some time in the Ukraine during the Russian invasion and I noticed that men who mean business don’t smile a lot.

I’m actually a quarter black, although I pass as white. Most people think I’m Greek or Italian on account of my black hair and slight natural tan. The truth is, though, that my granddad on my mom’s side was Miberian. That’s one of the reasons why I took this assignment. I wanted to get to know the country that my ancestors are from. I even know the name of my tribe, the Mzuru, who live in the northern jungles of Miberia. I don’t know a lot about them, except that they worship crocodiles and have six fingers on their left hands. So do I.

The medical term for this condition is “polydactyly”, which means “many fingers” in Greek. Most people who have this condition can’t use the extra finger because it doesn’t have bones in it, but mine is fully functional. It’s located on the little finger side of the hand and it even helps me complete some tasks better than normal people can. For example, I can switch the settings on my camera faster than other photographers are able to.

I won’t be able to visit the tribe, of course, because of the war. I would love to hug a long-lost relative right now. When I said earlier that I can’t get a boner, I didn’t mean that I’m completely adverse to affection. I do sometimes wish for physical contact, actually I don’t think any human being can exist without it. They did a study with orphans in Romania who were starved of hugs, cuddles, kisses, etc. Those children became sick and died. So yeah, I too feel like getting a backrub or a peck on the forehead from time to time. Today is one of those days where I wouldn’t mind some affection. Paying a prostitute isn’t my style, and the Asian businessmen at the bar are probably too homophobic to cuddle with me.

Actually, homosexuality is illegal in the government-run parts of Miberia, so I’ve got to be a little careful. If I do meet someone to share warmth with, it has got to be a woman. You can literally go to jail here if you are found to be gay. Horrible? Certainly, and it gets worse… you see, in Miberia, you can go to jail if you support gay rights, even if you are straight. That means that there is practically no way for things to get better, because even allies are too afraid to say anything. Whatever, maybe once the war is over, things will change.

The high-class prostitute by the pool is the only female at the hotel, and I’m not going to pay someone for love. I guess I’ll have to toughen up and be alone tonight. As I’m thinking this I hear a burst of machine gun fire out in the city. Did someone just die for no reason? Was I supposed to be there to photograph what happened? Should I have been there to give meaning to the loss of life? Or did the bullets miss their mark because I wasn’t there? Did I save a life by refusing to engage with the bloodshed?


Buy Links:
Amazon

Giveaway:

Vincent is giving away a $20 Amazon gift card with this tour:

a Rafflecopter giveaway

Direct Link if unable to see the above embedded Rafflecopter: http://www.rafflecopter.com/rafl/display/b60e8d47326/


AUTHOR BIO

Andy Siege born as Andreas Madjid Siege in Kenya in 1985 is an award winning film director and author. He is a POC, neurologically diverse, and queer. He has published 11 novels/novellas, and his debut feature film “Beti and Amare” which he wrote and directed was nominated for multiple high profile international film awards. He has a BA in Creative Writing and an MA in Political Science.

Author Facebook (Personal) | Author Instagram | Author Goodreads | Author Amazon

Iguana by Vincent Traughber Meis #BlogTour #OtherWorldsInk #LGBTQ+ #Romance #Giveaway #MM

Moonbeams over Atlanta welcomes Vincent Traughber Meis to the blog. Iguana is a standalone book recently released on May 3rd, 2025. There is a Rafflecopter giveaway at the end of the post. Look around and good luck!

BOOK BLURB

When it seems there are too many obstacles, Ivan insists they can’t explore their chemistry. Still, he keeps coming back and pulling Dawson in, teasing him with possibility but filling him with doubt. Soon Dawson is consumed with thoughts of Ivan and his mercurial attention, and he can’t help but compare himself to the tragic gay characters in the books he edits. One minute Ivan is playful and laughing, and the next he’s cold and aloof, battling with cultural expectations and familial responsibilities.

Dawson gives into the push and pull of this confusing but exhilarating relationship, trying to convince himself he can handle a no-strings-attached situation with a man who is still coming to terms with his sexuality…even if he knows that he would love nothing more than to have Ivan fully, openly, and all to himself. While this confusing relationship may not be the adventure he was expecting, it may just be the adventure that allows Dawson to decide exactly who and where he wants to be.

Warnings: COVID, death, drug/alcohol use, possible suicide, mention of rape

Buy Links:
Universal


EXCERPT

A rustling in the dry undergrowth and the crackling of twigs indicated a large-ish animal. It spotted me before I spotted it, but even with its camouflage, it couldn’t hide in the sparse surroundings. The iguana slithered up the embankment to higher ground with its long black and tan striped tail fanning back and forth to aid its escape. It climbed a tree and moved out on a branch that hung over the sidewalk in front of me.

I stopped. It stopped. I took a step forward. It crawled out a little further on the branch as if it was a gatekeeper. I had never been that close to an iguana, just ten feet above me, looking fierce with a torso about three feet long and a dewlap of variegated skin fluttering under its throat. A row of spikes ran down the spine, getting shorter as they reached the long tail. I’d been told they were harmless as long as they weren’t threatened. Some people even took them on as unlikely pets, putting them on leashes and charging tourists to take a picture with them.

But there was something about the way it stared at me that kept me frozen there on the pavement, wondering if it was safe to walk under its perch on the branch. I stared back. For what seemed a long time, we stared at each other. And then, its scaly eyebrow closed over the black marble pupil in a bed of yellow iris. If we had been playing a game of who blinks first, I had won. I didn’t feel like a winner, though, and the iguana didn’t seem to care as it continued to observe me, blinking as if bored with the relative newcomer on the planet. I nodded, acknowledging I was an invader in its land. Not just as a foreigner but as a human carving into the jungle habitat of the animal.

I was in Mexico for a new beginning, walking down the hill to do my shopping, if this beast would let me. Sweat began pooling in the middle of my chest, and I needed to move on. As I passed under the branch, I swear the iguana shrugged and looked away as if it was done with me. I felt dismissed. And then I began to laugh, a laughter of relief and surprise, thrilled with this new experience, one more in a long list that seemed a daily occurrence since I had moved here.

The day had begun with clear skies broadcasting hope, the balcony slightly cooler than inside the house as I lingered over my breakfast, feeling the view of the Bay of Banderas from Punta de Mita to Los Arcos like a physical thing that coddled me. We were in the dog days of summer, with the dog-star, Sirius, rising and setting about the same time as the sun. It was the hottest time of the year, and relief only came, I was told by my neighbors, when afternoon showers again pelted the corrugated roofs of the neighborhood down below. Everyone talked of the rains coming late this year.

Before the heat and humidity became too oppressive, I planned to walk down the hill to the market and buy food for the next few days when the forecasters insisted the heavy rains would come, ushered in by thunder and lightning. I would get back up the hill before the church bells struck ten in the plaza below.

I stepped out of the apartment into the stuffy hall, which smelled of fried onions and spices I couldn’t identify from the apartment across the hall. I summoned the elevator and watched the short countdown from the rooftop to my floor. When the doors opened, Ivan in his company logo polo shirt and jeans stood chewing on one of his fingernails. He dropped his hands and folded them in front of his crotch as he stepped aside and made room. “Buenos días, señor Dawson.”

“Hola, Ivan.” I leaned against the back wall and watched his blurry reflection in the shiny metal of the doors.

On the next floor, he got off, and as the doors closed, I let out the breath I didn’t know I had been holding. The tension I felt when near him made no sense. Ivan had been hired a few months before as the day manager who oversaw daily operations in the twelve-unit building curiously named Paradiso, which sounded both presumptuous and unsettling. He handled everything from delivering packages to residents’ doors to coordinating cleanups to keeping the place secure. Everyone found him friendly and efficient. Everyone loved him. Why did I often see him joking and bantering in English and Spanish with other residents when he was all business and cold with me? Why did my packages sometimes go undelivered when everyone else got theirs the same day?


Buy Links:
Universal

Giveaway:

Vincent is giving away a $20 Amazon gift card with this tour:

a Rafflecopter giveaway

Direct Link if unable to see the above embedded Rafflecopter: http://www.rafflecopter.com/rafl/display/b60e8d47326/


AUTHOR BIO

Vincent Traughber Meis grew up in Decatur, Illinois and graduated from Tulane University in New Orleans. He has also traveled extensively, and as result of his travels and time abroad he published a number of pieces, mostly travel articles, but also a few poems and book reviews, in publications such as, The Advocate, LA Weekly, In Style, and Our World in the 1980s and 90s. He has published five novels with Fallen Bros Press: Eddie’s Desert Rose (2011), Tio Jorge (2012), and Down in Cuba (2013), Deluge (2016) and Four Calling Burds (2019).

Tio Jorge received a Rainbow Award in the category of Bisexual Fiction in 2012.Down in Cuba received two Rainbow Awards in 2013. Deluge won a Rainbow Award in 2016. His sixth novel The Mayor of Oak Street was released in 2021 with NineStar Press and a book of his short stories in 2021. Three more novels have been published with Spectrum Books, First Born Sons (2023), Colton’s Terrible Wonderful year (2023) and The Long Journey to You (2024). His stories have been published in several collections, including WITH: New Gay Fiction, and other collections. He lives in San Leandro, California and Puerto Vallarta, Mexico.

Author Website | Author Facebook (Personal) | Author Facebook (Author Page) | Author Instagram | Author Goodreads | Author Amazon

Chaos Kin by Sheryl R. Hayes (Jordan Abbey 03) #BlogTour #NewRelease #OtherWorldsInk #LGBTQ+ #Paranormal #Fantasy #Giveaway

Moonbeams over Atlanta welcomes Sheryl R. Hayes to the blog. Chaos Kin is the third book in the Jordan Abbey series. The release date for it was January 14th, 2025. There is a Rafflecopter giveaway at the end of the post. Good luck!

BOOK BLURB

In the town of Rancho Robles, can one werewolf protect the Children of the Wolf and the Bat? Chaos Wolf Jordan Abbey has made friends among the Black Oak Pack even though she refuses to join it. The same can’t be said of the vampires, but her life has taken a turn for the better.

That is until Enya Blevins, sister to the werewolf who turned Jordan, arrives in Rancho Robles. She wants to know who killed her baby brother and is less than impressed by the Chaos Wolf. Enya wants revenge, starting with Jordan and ending with the vampires infesting the area.

Jordan is prepared to flee, but a technicality makes her an Alpha Werewolf. Now she must stand her ground to protect her nascent Pack and those she loves.

The past has come back to bite her. Does she have the fangs to bite back?

Series Blurb:

In the Northern California town of Rancho Robles where the Children of the Wolf and the Bat share an uneasy coexistence. One werewolf woman threatens to upset that balance.

Buy Links:
Universal | Goodreads | Liminal Fiction (LimFic.com


EXCERPT

“You ready for this?”

Jordan nodded. She and Montgomery had pulled over three blocks from the entrance to the Black Oak Pack’s compound for one last quick discussion. “Got the Uber request programmed in to meet me here. If things go wrong, we run.”

Montgomery shook his head, hand tightening on the steering wheel. “No, you run.”

Jordan’s expression tightened. “I’m not leaving you.”

“Jordan, you have to run without me.” Montgomery stared at her until she looked away. “I know you’re afraid of what will happen to me. But they won’t harm me. To do so is to risk open conflict with Elder Marcus.”

Jordan bit back her response. Alpha Shane may have a vested interest in living in peace with the Elder of the Conclave of Rancho Robles. That didn’t mean that these strangers who came from far away would have the same desires. Add to the fact things were personal between Montgomery and Enya, and the odds were that they wouldn’t be thinking about insulting the vampires in the area.

She sighed and recited the plans they had come up with the night before. “If things go south, I run back to the Cataluña and wait for you or Thorn. If after twenty-four hours, neither of you show up, I ask Elder Marcus for help getting someplace safe. You and Thorn will join me once you’re able to.”

Montgomery smiled and nodded. She noticed a tear in the corner of his eye. “Hopefully, it won’t come to that.”

She didn’t bother to say that he didn’t sound like he believed it any more than she did.

Jordan closed her eyes but lifted her head as she and Montgomery drove up to the gate of the Black Oak Pack’s home territory. As if by mutual consent, neither of them spoke as Sentry Rodriguez waved them through. There was no point hashing out their plans further. In the next ten minutes, they would know if she would have to run and hide with her tail between her legs.

The silence continued as they walked to the front door. Angela opened the door before she had a chance to knock on it, focusing on Jordan instead of Montgomery. The blonde blond werewolf arched her eyebrows in a question.

Jordan shook her head ever so slightly.

Angela’s lips pressed together as she narrowed her eyes. Jordan could hear her thoughts. Why am I not surprised? Instead, she gestured them inside. “This way please.”

The entire pack was gathered, clumping together in little knots around the room. Pamela met her eyes and then turned her attention back to her conversation with Tran. Alpha Shane, Envoy Blevins, and Talespeakers stood by the cold, dark fireplace. Angela took her place with the rest of the younger people in the room. The tension in the room ramped up as the four highest-ranking werewolves focused on her and Montgomery. Alpha Shane dipped his head in greeting. “Chaos Wolf Abbey, Mr. Cooper.”

Enya was far less formal, not giving Montgomery and Jordan a chance to greet them. She assessed Jordan, head lifted so she stared down her nose. “Were you able to retrieve the fangs?”

Jordan drew herself up to stand straight and as tall as she could. “No.”

Everyone around her tensed, which she expected.

“This isn’t her fault,” Montgomery said. “She didn’t know—”

“Silence, vampire!” Enya snapped. Her focus was on Jordan as she paced forward. “It’s not completely your fault. I blame you as much as I blame him.” She nodded towards Alpha Shane. “And him.” Her gaze turned towards Montgomery.

Alpha Shane’s shoulders hunched. He shifted his weight but said nothing.

She felt her ears flatten, an impressive trick as she was in her human form. Jordan opened her mouth, trying to force her words through her snarl. To her surprise, Billy, Juan, Tran, and Maria surrounded her and Montgomery with Angela taking the point in front of Jordan. Jordan couldn’t see her expression, but the young woman stood stiffly, legs apart, and fists braced on her waist.

Confused, Jordan looked at Billy on her right, eyes wide. “What’s going on?” she whispered as Montgomery put a hand on her shoulder.

“We’re saving your skin,” he said. “Now, shush.”

Angela looked at Enya. “Jordan shouldn’t be treated as a chaos wolf. She is—”

“Angela!” Alpha Shane barked, glaring at her.

His daughter didn’t stop speaking. “—An alpha wolf in her own right.”


Universal | Goodreads | Liminal Fiction (LimFic.com

Giveaway:

Sheryl is giving away a $20 Amazon gift card with this tour:

a Rafflecopter giveaway

Direct Link if unable to see the above embedded Rafflecopter: http://www.rafflecopter.com/rafl/display/b60e8d47323/


AUTHOR BIO

Sheryl R. Hayes can be found untangling plot threads or the yarn her three cats have been playing with. She is equally likely to be shooing one of them off the keyboard as she is working on her novels and short stories. In addition to writing, she is a cosplayer focusing on knit and crochet costumes.

Author Website | Author Facebook (Personal) | Author Facebook (Author Page) | Author Mastodon | Author Instagram | Author Goodreads | Author Liminal Fiction (LimFic.com) | Author Amazon

The Death Bringer (The Tharassas Cycle 04) by J. Scott Coatsworth #BlogTour #NewRelease #OtherWorldsInk #LGBTQ+ #ScienceFiction #Fantasy #Gay #YA

Moonbeams over Atlanta welcomes back J. Scott Coatsworth to the blog with a stop on his blog tour for the new release of the fourth book in the The Tharassas Cycle series, The Death Bringer. Read on to discover this final installment.

BOOK BLURB

AIK WILL NEVER BE THE SAME… AND NEITHER WILL HIS WORLD

War is coming. Aik has become the Progenitor, and the Seed Mother has released him to transform the world for her alien brood. Silya and Raven, Aik’s former friends, are the only ones who can save him and the world. But what if the cure is worse than the invasion?

As Silya rushes to prepare Gullton for the battle to come, she’s determined to save as many people as she can. But new crises emerge that demand her attention.

Raven has his own hands full, keeping the dragon-like verent in line, while helping Silya to save the world. But what if the only way to do so is to sacrifice Aik, the man that he loves?

It’s the end of the world … or could it be the start of something new?

Series Blurb:

The Tharassas Cycle is a four book sci-fantasy series set on the recently colonized world of Tharassas. When humans first arrived on planet, they thought they were alone until the hencha mind made itself known. But now a new threat has arisen to challenge both humankind and their new allies on this alien world.


EXCERPT

Chapter One
Regroup

He floated, weightless and naked, surrounded by a reddish light and suspended in fluid. Something connected to his mouth and wrapped around his head, like a lover’s embrace.

He used to have a name. He searched his mind for some clue to his identity. I exist, so I must be someone. Or something.

That made sense, but got him no closer to an answer. He blinked. Who am I?

There was no immediate reply.

He lifted his hand. It was encased in metal. The gauntlet. That much he remembered, though it meant nothing to him. Except… it seemed different, somehow. Thinner.

He moved his arms in the liquid, and it sparkled around him where his shifting disturbed it. The metal extended down his wrist and along his forearm, like before, but now it went farther, around his elbow and up his bicep. He touched it with his free hand.

I can feel it. It was as if the metal had become a part of him, his nerves growing through it. He held out his metallic hand and flexed his fingers. What is it?

We call it uurcaa. It’s a sacred metal—it will protect you, and if your host dies, it will collect and save your soul. He could feel the emotions she held back from him. It is the last of its kind from our homeworld. Like us.

He blinked. Then what am I?

You are my son, Iihil. The progenitor, the one who has come before and the first of many more like you. The voice was deep and comforting.

Mother. Warmth infused him at her voice, and an eagerness to please her.

Still, something wasn’t right. He was more than that. He searched his mind, running up against that stubborn blankness. Somewhere beyond it were the answers he needed.

He’d been someone else. Before.

Who was I? Memories of a face—dark hair, intense eyes that nevertheless twinkled at him. Raven.

It came flooding back to him. His mother. His life in Gullton. Training to be a guard and meeting Raven for the first time. My name is Aik.

He reached for the mask that covered his face. It was suffocating. Something was stuck in his throat, and he coughed hard, trying to force it out, whipping around and causing the liquid around him to flash red in alarm.

Calm yourself. The voice was as thick and heavy as an ix hide, and just as soft and warm.

Aik pushed back. What are you doing to me? I don’t want this! Let me out! He thrashed about, trying to force his way through the suffocating liquid. The metal crept up his shoulder. If it covered all of him, he would be lost.

Calm yourself! It was more insistent this time.

Aik stiffened as an enforced lethargy settled over him. He lost control of his limbs, falling still in his floating prison. The voice pressed against his mind. You’re safe. Be calm, my little one.

He closed his eyes and thought of Raven, trying to stay fixed on that face. I can’t let myself forget again.

Then the world around him dissolved, and he was swept up in a torrent of memories that weren’t his own.


Buy Links:

Universal Buy Link


AUTHOR BIO

Scott lives with his husband Mark in a yellow bungalow in Sacramento. He was indoctrinated into fantasy and sci fi by his mother at the tender age of nine. He devoured her library, but as he grew up, he wondered where all the people like him were.

He decided that if there weren’t queer characters in his favorite genres, he would remake them to his own ends.

A Rainbow Award winning author, he runs Queer Sci Fi, QueeRomance Ink, Liminal Fiction, and Other Worlds Ink with Mark, sites that celebrate fiction reflecting queer reality, and was the committee chair for the Indie Authors Committee at the Science Fiction and Fantasy Writers of America (SFWA) for almost three years..

Website | Facebook (Personal) | Facebook (Author Page) | Mastodon | Instagram | Goodreads | Liminal Fiction (LimFic.com) | QueeRomance Ink | Amazon

The Death Bringer (The Tharassas Cycle 04) by J. Scott Coatsworth #ShadowPost #NewRelease #OtherWorldsInk #LGBTQ+ #ScienceFiction #Fantasy #Gay #YA #GuestPost

Moonbeams over Atlanta welcomes back J. Scott Coatsworth to the blog with the release day of the fourth and final installment of the The Tharassas Cycle series, The Death Bringer, today September 19th, 2024. Scott asked me to post a separate post on release day outside his “official” blog tour (stay tuned for my post for this), and I asked Scott to provide a unique guest post about what his inspiration for the books was for the series.


GUEST POST

The Inspiration

J. Scott Coatsworth

This week, I released The Death Bringer, the last book in my “four book trilogy.” It was supposed to be three, but book three was so long that I had to split it into two. It’s also my twelfth published novel.

Eloreen asked me to talk a bit about what inspired the book/series.

I have a dear friend – Jim Comer – who is a long-time sci-fi buff, and also one of the smartest guys I know. We got to talking one day about space travel. Jim contended – and current science backs him up on this – that faster-than-light travel will never be possible. I countered that we don’t know what discoveries are still in store, and that many things we once considered impossible are things we take for granted today.

But it got me thinking, and so I set about exploring the idea in a novella I titled The Last Run. The title refers to supply runs to the colony on Tharassas from Earth – via a “slow” ship that takes twenty-five years to reach its destination. Along the way, I discovered that my new world had semi-sentient plants and some kind of planetary mind. My readers loved it and encouraged me to write more on this strange planet.

So when it was time to choose my next project in late 2019, I decided to forge ahead with Tharassas. And so a series was born.

I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I liked writing it!


BOOK BLURB

AIK WILL NEVER BE THE SAME… AND NEITHER WILL HIS WORLD

War is coming. Aik has become the Progenitor, and the Seed Mother has released him to transform the world for her alien brood. Silya and Raven, Aik’s former friends, are the only ones who can save him and the world. But what if the cure is worse than the invasion?

As Silya rushes to prepare Gullton for the battle to come, she’s determined to save as many people as she can. But new crises emerge that demand her attention.

Raven has his own hands full, keeping the dragon-like verent in line, while helping Silya to save the world. But what if the only way to do so is to sacrifice Aik, the man that he loves?

It’s the end of the world … or could it be the start of something new?

Series Blurb:

The Tharassas Cycle is a four book sci-fantasy series set on the recently colonized world of Tharassas. When humans first arrived on planet, they thought they were alone until the hencha mind made itself known. But now a new threat has arisen to challenge both humankind and their new allies on this alien world.


Buy Links:

Universal Buy Link


AUTHOR BIO

Scott lives with his husband Mark in a yellow bungalow in Sacramento. He was indoctrinated into fantasy and sci fi by his mother at the tender age of nine. He devoured her library, but as he grew up, he wondered where all the people like him were.

He decided that if there weren’t queer characters in his favorite genres, he would remake them to his own ends.

A Rainbow Award winning author, he runs Queer Sci Fi, QueeRomance Ink, Liminal Fiction, and Other Worlds Ink with Mark, sites that celebrate fiction reflecting queer reality, and was the committee chair for the Indie Authors Committee at the Science Fiction and Fantasy Writers of America (SFWA) for almost three years..

Website | Facebook (Personal) | Facebook (Author Page) | Mastodon | Instagram | Goodreads | Liminal Fiction (LimFic.com) | QueeRomance Ink | Amazon

Broken Mirror (Resonant Earth Volume 01) by Cody Sisco #BlogTour #NewRelease #OtherWorldsInk #LGBTQ+ #Paranormal #Romance #Giveaway #Queer

Moonbeams over Atlanta welcomes Cody Sisco to the blog. Broken Mirror is the first book in the Resonant Earth series, and this second edition was released on August 16th, 2024. There is a Rafflecopter giveaway at the end of the post for Tortured Echoes, the sequel to Broken Mirror. Read on to discover more and good luck!

BOOK BLURB

A fractured mind or a global conspiracy? Uncovering the truth can be hell when nobody believes you… and you can’t even trust yourself.

Broken Mirror is the first volume in a queer psychological science fiction saga that looks at the stigma of mental illness and the hellish distrust and alienation that goes with it.

Victor Eastmore knows someone killed his grandfather, the pioneering scientist Jefferson Eastmore. But Victor, diagnosed with mirror resonance syndrome, has been shunned by Semiautonomous California society. Nobody will believe a Broken Mirror. Now Victor must tread the line between sanity and reclassification—a fate that all but guarantees he’ll lose his freedom.

With its self-driving cars, global firearms ban, and a cure for cancer, the science fiction world of Broken Mirror may sound like a near future utopia, but on Resonant Earth, history has taken a few wrong turns. The American Union is a weak and fractious alliance of nations in decline. Europe manipulates its citizens through propaganda. And Asia is reeling from decades of war.

Determined to uncover the truth about Jefferson’s murder, pansexual Victor and his trans friend Elena set out on a road trip that takes them across the American Union from Semiautonomous California through the Organized Western States to the Republic of Texas. But Elena is holding something back, and Victor’s condition worsens.

Amid shifting geopolitical sands, Broken Mirrors like Victor find themselves at a cyberpunk crossroads: evolve or go extinct.

Warnings: violence, discrimination against characters with mental health challenges

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EXCERPT

Chapter One

A new universe, its vibrations, called to me, and I answered, ignorant of the harm in crossing over.

—Victor Eastmore, Apology to Resonant Earth, (transmission date unknown)

Semiautonomous California

29 February 1991

It’s one thing to die quietly with things left unsaid among family members. It’s another thing to do what the great Jefferson Eastmore did with his secrecy and architecture of conspiracy: keep essential truths from Victor and put him on a collision course with an uncanny future.

Victor gazed across City Lake toward the tessellated foothills, where the elite families of Oakland and Bayshore kept their hedges trimmed and thorny. His grandfather’s sarcophagus was up there, surrounded by marble pillars and gold-gilt fencing shaped like twisted strands of DNA. A tidy and neat brick gravemound would never have sufficed, since at the end of his life, Jefferson was as grandiose as his cancer-curing career. The stones were plucked from the canals of New Venice, and a plaque listed the man’s many accomplishments. Not listed was his failed effort to cure Victor of mirror resonance syndrome.

Victor spun around to face the city skyline. The morning was bright and windy. The timefeed on his MeshBit indicated thirty minutes until his reclassification appointment. He could go and wait in the anteroom, but his anxious vibrations might shake the building to its foundations.

He took a breath. No going back. Before the sun reached its zenith that day, his path would materialize. If he were lucky, he could stay a Class Three: free but under close supervision. Or he could become a Class Two: under guard, imprisoned, at a rancho in the hinterlands. He whispered a cherished but inconsistently effective mantra to fight off brain blankness: The wise owl listens before asking who. Each episode of blanking out was one more step toward mirror resonance syndrome’s inevitable tragic end: becoming a comatose Class One, insensate, a forgotten ward of the government. The only unknown factor was how quickly the future would crash against him.

He trudged along the shoreline, tensing and relaxing his jaw, trying to distract himself. Glittering towers rose exultantly cityside. Squally breezes swooped out of a cloudless, azure sky and assaulted bulrushes, sedges, and cattails in the shallows where a grid of waterplots penned them in.

Granfa Jefferson had been poisoned. Victor knew it. He had proof. But his family didn’t believe him, and if he said any more about it, he would be locked away. Fair? No. Surprising? Not really. After all, his life was a farcical succession of tragedies. It wasn’t time to give up, though. Not while he had unanswered questions.

The palm trees encircling the lake rustled like cheerleaders shaking their pom-poms. The water rippled, creating countless sun flashes on the lake’s surface, and afterimages glowed and pulsed when he closed his eyes. The stench of goose shit turned his stomach.

He wedged the MeshBit’s detachable sonobulb in his ear, then called Elena. She answered right away. This was not the first time her promptness was suspicious.

“See?” she said. “When a friend calls, you should answer. Right away. Not never.”

“I know. I need your help,” he said. “My appointment is here. I’m having trouble.”

“Where are you?” she asked.

“City Lake. West shore.”

“I can’t get there in time.”

You were there for Granfa Jeff’s funeral. You showed up at my apartment whenever you wanted. Why can’t you be here now?

“Then talk to me,” Victor said. “Anything to keep my mind off my theories about Granfa Jeff.”

At the time, Victor had nothing close to the truth about Jefferson’s secret messages and plans for conspiracy and counter-conspiracy. He couldn’t have guessed his role in the proliferating conflagration that would transform every person on Resonant Earth and beyond. No one could have predicted the neuro-contagion that eventually radiated beyond the American Union of Nations, or the mind-machine hybridization that became humanity’s destiny, or the fact that crossing over to another world would become a possibility rather than paranoia. If Victor had guessed any of it, he might have failed his reclassification deliberately and shown up at the gates of a rancho to check himself in. All this was a lot to have piled onto a mentally unstable young adult.

“But you found radiation on the data egg,” Elena said. “I believe you. We’re going to figure this out.”


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Giveaway:

Cody is giving away an ebook copy of Tortured Echoes, the sequel to Broken Mirror:

a Rafflecopter giveaway

Direct Link if unable to see the above embedded Rafflecopter: http://www.rafflecopter.com/rafl/display/b60e8d47317/


AUTHOR BIO

Cody Sisco is an author, editor, publisher, and literary community organizer. His LGBT psychological science fiction series includes two novels thus far, Broken Mirror and Tortured Echoes. He is a freelance editor specializing in genre-bending fiction and the acquisitions editor for RIZE Press. In 2017, he co-founded Made in L.A. Writers, an indie author co-op dedicated to the support and appreciation of independent authors. His startup, BookSwell, is a literary events and media production company dedicated to lifting up marginalized voices and connecting readers and writers in Southern California and beyond. He serves as a co-executive on the Board of Governors for the Editorial Freelancers Association, as the treasurer for the LGBTQ+ Editors Association, and as a board member at APLA Health.

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