Thursday, February 23, 2017


Since I'm only attending local signings and events until 2018 -- and for those who can't make it to local events -- for the first time, I'll be ordering paperbacks (no Dreamspinner titles) that I'll be signing and mailing out, along with swag items. 10 of my bestselling titles are available, including Slade, Chance, and Keep Swimming.

If you wanna order, fill out this form (more info in the form).

1 Book for $15
2 Books for $25
3 Books for $35
5 for $45
All 10 for $75

PRICING INCLUDES: Signed books, swag items, and Priority shipping. (ONLY shipping to U.S. add Canada -- add $5 USD for CA) 

Final day to sign up is Friday, February 25. Copies will be ordered Saturday, February 26, when invoices have been paid. Will be shipped USPS Priority (for US orders), Order Tracking # will be provided.

SLADE should be specified in the "more than one copy" section. I already ordered those, but few copies because they're more cost prohibitive thanks to my failed experiment with the new Amazon paperback platform -- if you order a signed copy of SLADE alone, it's $18.

To Fill out the order form with your choices:

Friday, December 30, 2016

Fresh Start New Years Sale!


5 of my bestselling BOOKS with fresh starts and second chances for the New Year! All just #99Cents in Amazon US AND #99p in Amazon UK stores.! So, if you need to gift someone, or you havent read any of these... (All still free on KU.) 

          Marked down from 2.99-3.99 ONLY until January 1st.

1. Don't Trust the Cut:
US []
UK []

2. Borrowing Trouble:
US []
UK []

3. Good Enough:
US: []

4. Going Under:
US: []
UK: []

5. Gangster Country:
US: []
UK: []


Thursday, October 27, 2016

FIVE DAY FALL Friends-to-Lovers SALE!

Hey all! 
I have a HUGE sale for you on my Friends-To-Lovers (and reunion) M/M romances. In honor of fall, I'm doing a Five Day Fall Friends-to-Lovers sale on 8 of my best selling (some award-winning) BOOKS! Sale includes my newest novella Exes.

All of them originally retail for $2.99 - $3.99, but are available from October 27 til October 31 FOR ONLY 99 CENTS! That sale price is available for the first time in the Amazon UK store, as well! (All books still available to borrow FREE for KU subscribers.)

(In order of release, recent - oldest)

Exes [Click Here]
WANT [Click Here]
Simple Things [Click Here]
Good Enough [Click Here]
Confessions of a Wild Heart [Click Here]
Chasing the Rainbow [Click Here]
A Little Complicated [Click Here]
Chance of the Heart [Click Here]

Monday, August 29, 2016


Reminder: My first novel, Don't Trust the Cut which has been re-edited, extended, and re-released is ONLY #99cents from now until September 1st in the Amazon US store! (Also free for KU subscribers) ❤️

Wednesday, May 18, 2016

'WANT' is live!

WANT is live on Amazon! Available now for $2.99 USD, free on Kindle Unlimited.

by Kade Boehme
Now Available!

D is too old for games.

Dante "D" Vargas is home in Miami, to stay. He has a job he likes as the new head of bonds and bounty for Mack's Security and after six years of making a mess with Trevor Mackentire, he's ready—he thinks they're both ready—for them to stop playing around and figure out if what they have is real. But Trevor is his boss's son and his best friend's younger brother so it's not as easy as taking what he wants.

Especially when he also has to convince Trevor he's over being afraid of his feelings and not everything is what it seems.

Trevor wants the D(ante).

Finally healthy and whole again after the effects of a major car accident, Trevor's tired of being treated like a child by everyone he loves. He's been handling his own for a long time. But he's lonely. Trevor knows he shouldn't keep setting himself up to be hurt by D's hot-and-cold routine, but he's cared for the man for what feels like forever, and lusted for him even longer.  

Yeah, they set each other on fire, but old fears, old wounds, and being stuck in a game of push and pull makes it feel impossible to get it together. Maybe they should just leave well enough alone. 

It'd be easier if every meeting, every taste didn't leave them wanting more.

Wednesday, April 27, 2016

Rambling: On Diversity, Sensitivity, & the Non Existent Frontier

It baffles me that I can't even say "race & religion are the final frontier" of bullshit in romance. It isn't a frontier at all. We beat each other TO DEATH over sexism, transmisogyny, gender roles, yet we NEVER talk openly and honestly about racism and cultural / religious appropriation -- only in small corners of Twitter. Racial issues hit the fan SO infrequently, and when they do there be no "think pieces" nor are there a hundred people "weighing in" as seems to be the norm with EVERY OTHER FUCKING ISSUE in the genre. 

I'm obviously great and totally happy with us being tolerant and trying to be the most informed people we can be. We should. We should strive to teach and to learn. I mean, with the frequency we discuss it all -- and fight each other over genre gender issues and sexuality labels/non-labels -- I literally feel, sometimes, like I discuss & think about all this stuff more than I ever did taking actual Gender Studies and upper level Sociology in university. Again, it's great we're all so aware, but ... while everyone is worried about who has the right to write what and are HYPERsensitive to the role of this person or that person or what "Queer Romance" means to each person -- and sometimes they're nasty, knock-down, drag-out fights -- we so often and constantly just walk right by casual and not-so-casual racism and religious insensitivity. No one is discussing it. A handful of people get upset over one of these issues, occasionally, and the genre as a whole ignores it.

I mean really.

A Hispanic character is more than a general character with a few italicized Spanish words with a mother who’s illegal; an African American character is far more than ebonics and a “chocolate dick that contrasts so beautifully with the bottom’s ivory ass cheeks.”

And religious characters… Not just a hijab, an up-tight cross bearing martyr, nor just kosher boys who’ll throw over their respective ideals for a relationship.

Race and religion are SO significant, there’s such a sense of identity found within being a Brooklyn Jewish person or a WASP from New England or an African American Pentecostal from Georgia or an agnostic Native American from Noxubee County, MS. Culture is SO important. Hell, gay culture is a huge part of M/M, so I dont have to explain at all why culture is a huge part of characterization and even plot. 

Many authors rely heavily on a sense of place or setting for the cities in which they base their stories. And they’re done with such seamless and flawless understanding of the areas that you can smell the air, see the buildings. You can sense the camaraderie in a small gay bar in a small town with a group of LGBT men and women in these books so much that you feel like these people are your friends.

So. Why in the actual fuck can the same sense of respect for and sensitivity to culture and language and family ties and sense of community not be given to these characters? WHY is your character using racially insensitive language unless it’s a necessary part of narration? Why is your character casually anti-semitic unless you have a big picture plot going on? For your main character to accept his/her romantic interest calling him/her an insensitive term or to just convert to make the significant other more comfortable, you’re saying “it’s okay for people to give away huge chunks of their identity so long as they keep their man happy”. That makes me wanna just scream FUCK THE PATRIARCHY. What the fuck kind of message is that in a genre that’s BUILT around diversity? How rich does it make your character to let a part of their personal identity be something so easily sold out for an obviously unhealthy relationship?

I GET IT. Some brown and black skinned people don’t want to be known for their skin color, some gay men don’t like labels, and some Jewish people convert, BUT in the infinite and often unchecked privilege in the romance writing community, it’s standard and accepted that everyone gives up anything “for love” and since 8 out of 10 books have a strapping white “alpha male” MC, of course one gives up anything to be with HIM.



IF you can’t see that it’s not okay to treat religions and race as just minor character traits like eye color, if you can’t put in some actual research or ASK A QUESTION, why even bother? It surely can’t be helping your sales to write a Person of Color who abandons all sense and reason and sense of self for their one WHITE true love. That's undertones and overtones and 50 shades of insensitivity.

NO ONE is saying you can’t write a Muslim Pakistani character just because you’re a white atheist any more than they’re saying you can’t write a gay male character because you’re a cis het female… But do it fucking justice, man. ESPECIALLY if you know what it is to be marginalized. 

We have SUCH diverse readership. Authors have done it with gay/bi characters since M/M started... If you feel you aren't portraying a PoC right, e-mail one of your friends/readers. Same with religion. If you don’t know more about a religion or its practitioners or an ethnic group than what you’ve seen on an episode of Law & Order, you should definitely ask more questions. You don't have to let them beta your work and you don't even have to let other people dictate HOW you write... but it srsly takes 5 seconds to ask a quick question.

I'd, personally, rather say "I'm trying not to, but I’m probably going to sound like an ignorant fuckhead here, probably, so PLEASE help me: [insert question]" and have a FRIEND who understands I'm not TRYING to be an ignorant fuck head, that I’m honestly trying to educate myself, correct me than drop a book full of ignorant fuckheadedness and offend THOUSANDS of people.

Because, while romance and fiction aren’t always political, you do step into a more political arena when you’re writing about minorities. And if you can’t take the time to be sensitive, to ask a question, it’s hard to come to your defense when there’s backlash. Because in 2016, with our level of understanding of SO MANY issues in our little corner of the internet, our understanding of pansexuality and demisexuality and homoromantic asexuality and non-binary zes & zers, -- hell, we are even lauded for being more sensitive about body image issues, at times -- we should be SO much more capable of being racially, culturally, and religiously sensitive.

And that this isn’t a conversation anywhere but in a quiet corner of the twittesphere is really disappointing.

But, hey, PLEASE continue to write more diverse characters. Don't let anyone tell you not to or that you aren't allowed to. We need more diversity, as our rainbow is full of not only many different types of sexuality, but people of different races, backgrounds, religions. And I think our readers -- certainly my friends I’ve met through this genre -- love the individuality of our characters. But remember to come at it with respect. I know I’ll line up to read what you do.

Friday, April 22, 2016

Small Towns, Big Hearts 99 CENT SALE


April 22 - 25 get your small town love story fix with Borrowing Trouble and my my recent release Simple Things, as the eBooks are only 99 cents at the U.S. Amazon store!  



Borrowing Trouble 

Simple Things

Friday, April 15, 2016

WANT cover & excerpt

I decided I wanted to let my hair down a bit and write something kinda smexy, a little dirtier than my usual. It took on a life of its own and has become a little more romancey than I thought Trevor and D ever would. But... how could they not when Trevor really wants the D and D wants him right back.

by Kade Boehme
Cover by Dar Albert
Coming May 2016

Trevor McEntire and Dante "D" Vargas have been dancing around each
other for years. D knows he shouldn't keep crossing the line with his best
friend's little brother. Trevor knows he shouldn't keep setting himself up
to be hurt by D's hot-and-cold routine. That'd be easier if every meeting, 
every taste didn't leave them still wanting more.



I had shit to do, tonight, and I was already running behind. I didn’t have time to do more than go change clothes and swap out rides. I sure couldn’t pull up in the Trans and not expect a hundred questions, most of which would be from all the other car enthusiast co-workers who’d be around that would notice more than one of the not-so-street-legal additions.
I made quick work—as quick as one could with Saturday traffic being what it was in Miami Beach—of going back to my house outside town and switching out the Trans Am for my old ‘88 Blazer. While the Trans Am was the car I’d fuck, the Blazer was the old girl I’d marry. I babied the hell out of her since I got her as a fixer upper during rehab two years earlier.
Once again I made the trek back to the city, toward the nightclub I’d be meeting my people at. My family, not the hellions I’d been running with earlier in the night. Thankfully the venue was mixed so some of this sex and fire in my blood could get burned off. I’d only just gotten inside good and made my way toward the bar before a big hand pulled on my shoulder, turning me to face a familiar face.
    “You look like you’re in a good mood,” my brother Evan said as he clapped his hand on my shoulder and pulled me into his customary bro-hug.
    I spat out the mouthful of hair I’d inhaled when he’d pulled me in. “Shit, Ev.” I pulled back, scrubbing a hand over my face to alleviate where his hair had been. “Do something with your hair.”
    He chuckled. “Sorry,” he said, not sounding very apologetic. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a black hair tie, deftly putting his shoulder-length hair up in a man bun, or douche bun as I called it. I rolled my eyes. “Don’t hate me ‘cuz my hair is luxurious,” he repeated his favorite line I always received when I gave him shit for his long locks.
    “Whatever you say, Fabio.” I turned to the bartender and ordered a Jack and Coke. After paying up, I turned to find Evan still standing, arms crossed and brow cocked. He knew better than to try to intimidate me with his size, I’d outweighed him since I moved back last year and we both stood relatively the same height, six-foot-one respectively. I didn’t know why he seemed to be trying, though, because I wasn’t brooding and I’d come to this damn bachelorette thing—not that he or my boss Jill, one of the brides, gave me much choice.
“So. You’re all smiley. What gives? Jill practically had to force you to come tonight so I was expecting more of your whole pouty-face thing.”
I most definitely was not smiley. That my being in a decent mood had him suspicious spoke to what a miserable bastard I must have been to be around lately.
“Get laid or something?”
I scoffed. I wish. Laid. It’d been a long year since that happened, but I wouldn’t discuss that with him. I barely wanted to think of the last time or my reasons for not hooking up since, much less tell Evan about it.
But I couldn’t exactly tell him why my body was thrumming with adrenaline, why my heart was pounding. The second best thing to sex to me still had me buzzed, even as my sexy Trans Am sat cooling in my garage.
“Just in a good mood.” I shrugged.
The skeptical once over he gave me ruffled my feathers. I know I wasn’t exactly a joy to be around all the time but damn, I wasn’t a miserable bastard. I didn’t have to protest though. His body relaxed almost immediately when my boss, Jillian, and her fiancee Denise walked over to greet me. He smiled broadly behind their backs when I went rigid as the tipsy brides-to-be passed out hugs and air kisses to me.
He hadn’t been entirely wrong about my not being excited to come out tonight. Not that I disliked my boss. She’d served in the middle east with Evan, had my brother’s back when it really counted, and she had given me a job, no questions asked, when I came back from Jacksonville with my auto body repair trade certificate in-hand. But the thought of getting drunk with her was awkward because she was not only my boss, but the ex of the biggest crush of my life.
And that right there was what I didn’t want to think about. Dante Vargas—D, as he was called. She’s a lesbian, so being jealous of D’s ex was a futile waste of emotion, but that they had a kid together always served as a reminder she’d had a relationship with him. And I was more jealous of that than I was the fact they’d actually been intimate.
Denise saw me squirming under my boss’s attention, Jillian excitedly telling me about all the people who’d shown up that I’d know, that she grinned like Evan but took Jillian’s hand. “Come on, sweets. Let’s let him actually see everyone that showed up.” She started pulling Jillian toward the stairs the led to the club’s upper level.
I knew I liked her.  
My brother ordered himself a beer while I sipped my Jack and Coke and got my game face on. I could do this. Everyone would be drunk. And it’s not like D’s kid would be there so the reminder they’d been together would last only as long as a drink or two before the don’t-give-a-shits really kicked in.
I scoped the dance floor of Vida, one of Miami’s newer clubs. The mixed crowd put me at ease, boys danced with boys, girls danced with girls, and straight couples peppered the crowd. The dark of the large room was only broken by the occasional strobe light and black lights that lined the ceilings and bars.
“Ready to go up?” Evan asked.
I nodded and followed as we made our way to the second of three floors. The second floor was a little brighter and slightly quieter, the music low and conversation a steady hum. I could still feel the bumping of the bass from downstairs through the soles of my Timberlands.
We made our way around the bar in the middle of the room to a table—or several tables that’d been pushed together—where a large group of familiar faces sat. I knew most everyone there, though some were new to me.
I fist bumped my way around the table, shook a few hands, greeting co-workers and some people I knew that’s served with Jillian, Evan, and D. Judging by the flushed faces all around and the general level of noise coming from everyone, I’d say the majority had imbibed more than a little in the extra hour it’d taken before I showed up.
Evan took a seat close to Jillian and Denise and pointed to the chair next to him. I sat, gratefully, and eyed the chair next to mine with a black leather jacket slung over the back. I look over to my brother in question but he’s immersed in conversation with a guy I only vaguely recognize.
I shrugged to myself and took another long drink of my Jack and Coke, letting it warm me through and build on the buzz I’m still feeling from tearing up the streets only an hour ago. I try not to be too pleased with myself, knowing any silly grins will give me away to anyone looking and I most definitely don’t need my brother, who’s been babying me too long, to get all pissy.
My thoughts were interrupted by the happy cheers erupting at the table when the chair beside me shifted. I wasn’t ready at all.
I knew my eyes must have been wide as D took a seat next to me, his characteristic flirty grin stretching wider, clearly pleased to see I’ve arrived. He sat his drink down and passed me one. “Jack and Coke right?”
Mother. Fucker.
I silently took the proffered drink from his hand and set it down on the table in front of me, doing my best not to gawp at him.
I looked accusingly at my brother and Jillian who were paying me zero attention. No one said a fucking word about D being back in town. I’d never have come out had I known.
The worst part was how viscerally I reacted to his presence, the deep down need I felt, even though I hadn’t seen him in so long. It’s like it was always there, the chemistry that flowed between us. And I was smacked over the head with it before he’d even completely settled in his seat.
I looked around the table and no one seemed to be as flummoxed by his arrival as I. I was the only one surprised by his appearance, his delivering me a drink—how had he remembered my favorite?
The conversation started back up, a couple of people drawing D in, but I couldn’t think with the heat of his body so close, the scent of his cologne drifting around us. I slammed back the last of my drink, then turned up the one he’d delivered. He never attempted to draw me into conversation, just kept smirking and looking at me from the side of his eye.
Thankfully one of the cute twinks in a Club Vida t-shirt came around to see if anyone needed a new drink and I ordered another. I attempted to join in my brother and Jillian’s conversation but kept zoning out. Then D moved his leg, just slightly, and his pressed against mine, touching from our boots to our knees. Right about then I was glad to have had a few drinks in my system because the heating of my body cause a flush I could blame on the whiskey.
Anger joined in the mix of adrenaline, intoxication, and arousal—anger at D’s presence, anger at his daring to flirt, and most of all anger at myself for responding so readily.
My mind flashed back on the last time I’d seen him, stretched out naked on his bed, sleeping with just his strong back and the rise of his firm ass visible, the rest of him covered in luxurious cotton sheets. I still felt a bereft devastation I couldn’t remember the previous night, not even so much as a kiss. I’d awakened in his bed, after praying and hoping for years for just one more night. But I’d slipped out after taking that mental picture, crept into the muggy pre-dawn Miami morning, and not looked back as a taxi drove me home to shower off the scent of him. I knew, as the sun rose and I fell into bed, D would have risen by then, and he never called or text messaged; he got on a plane and flew away.
And now, I wanted to be righteously indignant, but my brother couldn’t know. My boss, D’s ex and the mother of his child, most definitely could not know. And here I was, not moving my leg away, privately reveling in the way his warmth seeped into my body through our denim clad legs.
    As my cock rose to a stand, I swigged back the drink the barback had delivered and decided this madness couldn't stand.
I elbowed Evan. “Hey, I’m gonna go unwind a bit.” He spared me a brief glance and nod. Evan knew I loved clubs, loved to dance. That’s why I came out. I’d toss back a few drinks, take it to the dance floor, then crawl home. Alone. Always alone. Because D’s touch had ruined me a year ago—hell, really six years ago—and I was the idiot who kept living like a fucking monk because of it. I had no delusions that D had done the same.
Which kindled the flames of my indignation higher and fueled me on as I shoved my chair back and wandered off to the bar for a drink I most definitely did not need. I’m not a light weight, by any means. Guys my size don’t get fucked up off a couple cocktails. But the few I’d had, plus the natural high of post-race adrenaline had me feeling right.
While I finished off the drink I’d ordered I caught D’s gaze settled on me, even as he engaged others in conversation.
I dropped the drink down and went back downstairs to the dance floor. It took me less than twenty seconds of moving my hips, dancing with abandon, to have a semi-nude guy grinding on me. I loved it, the freedom, the way the music vibrated inside me. Thank goodness it was replacing that other pounding inside me, the need for D.
After a good ten minutes of steady dancing, sweating, and getting turned on by the press of my dance partner’s clothed cock pressing against mine, I had to give in to my need to piss. Before I left, the man poked out his full bottom lip, pouting sweetly then looked toward the back bathroom in an invitation I’d love to take him up on, but knew I wouldn’t.
Not yet. And certainly not with D there.
I shook my head and the guy shrugged, but before I could leave he pressed a dirty, grape-flavored liqueur kiss on my mouth, giving my cock a rub for good measure. I shuddered bodily at the feeling.
Shit. Why’d I have to be so fucking lame?
I wished I could say I wasn’t that person, the one who fixates. But I am. I wanted respect, I’d throw everything I had at getting it. If I wanted to be the best at the drag strip, I worked my ass off. If I wanted a man, I was like the lone wolf who’d imprinted on his mate. And I wasn’t sure when or how I’d done that with D, but I needed to fucking get that fixed. Because I couldn’t have D. He would be flying back to his new life in Boston after this wedding and I couldn’t let my life and my psyche be flipped upside down by the man again.
Pushing my way through the crowd I made my way to the line for the restroom. I could use any of them as there were five in the club, but I prefered the one I could lock behind me, thank you. So in line I waited. Thankfully it was a short line, this time. My turn finally came and I put my hand to hold open the door after the lady in front of me exited. She gave me a flirty smile which I did not return. But before I could go in, a palm rested on my lower back.
I turned my head to find D standing there. His eyes were half-lidded, the dark brown boring into mine, full of heat and promise that had my wide-open mouth unable to form words.
Maybe it was the booze or the music, but when he pushed me in and slammed his mouth on mine, I couldn’t protest. I didn’t even fucking want to.

More coming soon. ;)

Sunday, March 13, 2016

Simple Things Snippet Sunday #1

Hey all!

Back for a Snippet Sunday as we close in on the release of my first NEW title of 2016, Simple Things (Friday, 25th of March!). I'm so excited!

Congrats again to all the winners of the ARC giveaway. I still can't believe how many entries we had. Gosh.

Anywho. On with the snippet. This is after Jeremy & Carter have gotten around their initial awkward reunion and are back to being friendly... With perks and such.

(Ticket is a prop. Rights to Austin, TX graphic paid for. © 2016 Kade Boehme.)

Carter looked over some of the framed things Jeremy had on his shelves. He was surprised, since Jeremy had his own home in Austin, to find that he had so many recent photos up. There was even a framed printed out screen shot of when District & Wild’s one song had gone to number 1 on an iTunes chart.
He smiled to himself when he noticed a photo of Jeremy, Sarah, and himself at a horse show when Carter was sixteen. He was a little surprised at how warmly then eighteen year old Jeremy was looking at him. It almost looked like a crush, but he dared not think it. He’d have noticed that, surely.
In the front of the frame, though, was also a single ticket for the show in Brooklyn Carter had been at. He tilted his head.
“I saw you.”
Carter jumped and turned to find Jeremy right behind him. “How do you do that?” Bastard had always been too damned quiet.
“Sneak out as often as I did and you develop some mad ninja skills,” Jeremy said, chuckling. He plucked the frame from Carter’s hands. “I saw you in the crowd and tried to come say hello. You’d gone, though.”
“Sorry,” Carter apologized. “I didn’t know what to say after…”
“After me being a huge dickhead? That’s one reason I was so surprised to see you at the show. It, uh, felt like I’d really made it for the first time, seeing you there, knowing you listened to my music at a bar in New York fucking City.”
“Sorry I didn’t stick around.”
Jeremy shrugged, but Carter could tell he was embarrassed by the conversation. Okay, maybe they were getting a little heavy. Carter didn’t miss that Jeremy’s tan cheeks pinked a little.
He also didn’t miss the fact that Jeremy’s bare chest was covered in gooseflesh, his nipples nicely pebbled. His cock gave a small show of excitement, but that was about all it had for now.
“I liked that one song. I have the whole album, but I’m lame like everyone else and only really know the one.”
Jeremy feigned a wounded heart. “You didn’t listen to my angsty melodies and swoon for me?”
Carter stilled. Was the guy just stoned or did he mean that? “Was I supposed to?”
Again, Jeremy’s cheeks had a slight pinking to them, which was wholly unlike him.
“Actually, most of my angsting has been for Troy. But I just had my hand on your dick, so we probably shouldn’t talk about this.”
Carter didn’t disagree. He did want to know more eventually, though why it mattered, he didn’t know. For now, he definitely didn’t want to talk about Jeremy’s old hook ups. He was still smarting a bit from Jeremy spending his morning with one.
“So, what’s it to be? More Downton? Upstairs, Downstairs?”
“Oh, Jem, you sure know how to woo a girl.”

“I got everything you need, Red.” Jeremy gave Carter a wink and squatted down to turn on his gaming console that doubled as his Blu Ray player.

Alright! That's all for this week! WE'RE ALMOST THERE!


Simple Things
by Kade Boehme
Coming March 25th!
Pre-Order Available Now


Sunday, March 6, 2016

Simple Things: Paperback Cover Reveal, Excerpt & Giveaway

Alright! Got the first actual excerpt from Simple Things for you guys today AND a big giveaway, with ARCs and signed paperbacks and swag bags! I'm so stoked! It's my first new title of 2016 and my first new title since last fall. It feels like it's been forever, even with the SUPER DUPER successful re-release of Good Enough (can't thank y'all enough for that!).

Conference SN: for those who will be at Rainbow Book Fair here in NYC in April, I'll be selling copies there. If you'd like one for RT in Vegas, get in touch with me before March 25th.  

Gonna start with the gorgeous paperback cover reveal and blurb, then I'll go right into the excerpt, followed by the giveaway!

(cover art by JK Hogan @ KHD Graphics)

Carter Darling’s life has been a whirlwind since his mother was elected to the senate when he was a teen. From private school to joining the military, he tried to forge his own path while making as few ripples as possible. But an injury forced him to figure out new goals for his life. After his parents were involved a sex scandal, he decided to go back home to Tennessee to get some distance and get away from the madness. 
He didn’t bargain on Jeremy Beck returning at the same time. 
Jeremy was finally past the rich boy angst that made for some dramatic teenage years, but he hadn’t earned back much respect from his parents by playing in an indie band. Now that his band was on hiatus, Jeremy was looking for space from his unhealthy non-relationship with a band-mate, so returning home to figure out his next step seemed like the way to go. 
Their initial reunion turned awkward. Carter was still holding on to hurts from their last meeting and Jeremy was trying to convince himself that Carter was still just his sister’s closeted little friend. But when they open up to one another again and decide a staycation fling would be a nice distraction, they may get more than they bargained for. 
For two guys who’ve had so much drama in their lives, it might surprise them to find that sometimes love is found in the simple things. Who knew?

(Length: 50k words)


“You can’t really be leaving,” Ella stated. “Isn’t there some big PR rule about not going MIA during scandals or you give the rumors power?”
Carter Darling snorted inelegantly and continued folding his shirts, placing them in his biggest suitcase. He didn’t plan on returning to New York City for quite a while. 
“Besides, your parents are going to flip if you take a whole semester off.”
Carter turned on his friend and roommate then. “They get absolutely zero say in how I handle their problem. They made the problem, they can damn well fix it. I’m not going to play smiling trophy child while they do it.”
Ella huffed. “Well, you can’t leave me in a lurch with the rent. That’s not fair.”
“My trust is going to wire payments to the landlord, same as always.”
Ella pulled out her phone and started texting furiously as Carter went back to his packing. “Besides, it’s my parents’ names on the lease, so if you want to move out, you’re more than free to do so.”
She huffed behind him, again. He turned on her, again. “What the fuck’s it to you, anyway? You were all team Fuck the Darlings, now you’re …” He narrowed his eyes. “Shit. Did they ask you to keep me in town?” 
She glared. “It’s nothing that nefarious. But Paul did call to see if I could talk you into backing down for a few days, see if you’d be there for your mother’s resignation speech.”
Should have known. Fucking Paul Buchanan wasn’t ready to give up his gravy train with the Darlings, yet. And Carter’s mother wasn’t ready to throw in the towel on her political career. The second coming of Hillary, they called Carrie Darling, Carter’s mother. Although, the Clinton scandal had been all on Bill. Both Carrie and Carter’s father, Wayne, had shot their political careers in the proverbial foot this time.
“How much are they paying you?”
Ella reared back. “That’s low.”
“Well, you had a price tag before when I decided to come out. What’d they get you this time?”
“Maybe,” Ella snapped, “I don’t want my friend to self-destruct. And don’t forget, you used my services as much as your parents did.”
“Let’s be clear. The only reason I let them do it was because my mom was getting ready for bigger things and I wasn’t ready to come out publicly.” Carter hated that he had to come out publicly. Most people got to just tell their folks and their friends and the hard part was over. But no. Not when your mother was the junior senator from Tennessee, looking to run for Governor and pass her seat on to your father.
They’d begged him to put off his official coming out for at least a year when he’d returned home for good, then pushed it back another six months after that. Only to have their own shit go public because they couldn’t be as “circumspect” as they’d insisted their shamefully gay son be.
“I can’t stay here. My whole life has been about them and their aspirations. I wanted to be honest, to come out. That was too much for them, though. They made me feel ashamed of myself. Now, I’m done feeling like shit, like I should hide. I want to go home and see my friends I haven’t seen in almost a decade. I want to be normal for five fucking minutes. I want to be out. I don’t want people thinking my best friend is my girlfriend.”
“What about—”
“Enough!” She blinked in surprise at his outburst. He was known for his level headedness. “Call Paul. You seem to be tight with him. And like I said, you can always move.”
“And you’ll what… come out and leave me to be the girl who got left for guys?”
Carter’s face heated, fury bubbling up inside him. “You always knew how this would turn out. It’s also why we never blatantly said we were dating. Plus, I’m small potatoes. I’m not some rock star’s kid. This’ll be a blip for a week or two, then they’ll focus on my parents.”
“You’re an idiot if you think that,” she said, crossing her arms. Carter felt the sadness settle deep in his bones. His body felt as if he’d deflated, his shoulders drooping. He’d been going non-stop since everything blew up in the Darling family’s collective faces less than twenty four hours ago. He hadn’t had to really think about his next move. He just called up an old friend from back home and she’d offered him shelter from the storm, even if he hadn’t kept in touch with her so well since he had started college three years earlier. 
He didn’t want to fight with Ella, but he hadn’t really considered the fallout for her. He’d been so absolutely done from the moment the headlines about his parents started rolling in, he’d made a plan without much more than a text to his parents saying “so long” and “fuck this.”  
Ella’s own posture lost its rigidity and she looked embarrassed. “Oh god, Carter. I’m sorry.” He held his arms out to her and she came into his embrace willingly. “Oh, how I must have sounded.”
He sighed, resting his chin on her shoulder. He wasn’t much taller than her, standing only five foot nine to her five foot seven. “No, I was a dick. I didn’t even think.”
“No. Don’t feel bad. It’s been so crazy the last couple days, I got so wrapped up in the clean-up frenzy and didn’t even think about how much this sucks for you.”
He hummed and pulled out of the hug, returning to his packing. “I can’t smile for them, not after they’ve been so cold and morally superior, making me feel like I was less-than because I dared to want to come out.” He turned to her. “I don’t want to judge them for this, but it’s hard.”
“I know,” Ella said, still shamefaced. “It’s weird, too. She’s a part of the liberal party. I still don’t really get how you coming out would have mattered.” That was a lie, though. He’d met Ella in school, but she’d interned with his mother—who said nepotism was dead?—so she had probably gotten polls and bullet pointed memos as to why Carter should keep his mouth shut. He’d sure gotten those things.
Carter frowned. “It matters. I did kind of get it. A little.” He scowled. “Fuck! See, I’m taking up for them already. I gotta… I need time away.”
She studied him closely before giving a decisive nod. “Okay. But promise me you’ll only take spring semester off. That’s eight months to get your shit together and to let this stuff with your parents blow over. If you stay out too long…”
“I can live off my trust fund.” He winked to let her know he was teasing. That was something he’d never do. He’d worked too hard to get the respect of not only his teachers, but people he’d met in the boxing world. They thought a rich kid wouldn’t cut it, but he’d busted his ass over the last several years to prove that he had the chops. He didn’t even want to think about how he’d be losing all that respect once his coming out was official.
One crisis at a time.
After a final trip to the closet and double checking that he had put his electronics in his messenger bag, he zipped up his suitcase and pulled on his favorite Yankees ball cap. 
“Do you want me to call for the car service?” Ella asked, waving her phone. She had plopped down on the foot of his bed, looking as ragged as he felt. Her blond curls were going a thousand directions after having run her fingers through it too many times, as she was prone to do when she was nervous or frustrated. He was going to miss her, but part of him was glad to be getting away from Ella. She was his friend, once-upon-a-time his very best friend, but since she’d put her name on the dotted line of a non-disclosure agreement with Buchanan & Associates, she’d become part of The Darling Machine. Carter had put up a wall between them after that, for which he now felt guilty. It was just another reason why he really needed a break.
A very long break.
He hadn’t had one at all since his time in the Army had been cut short, then he’d had rehab for his bad knee and immediately started school. It’d been a whirlwind since he had graduated high school. 
“No,” said Carter. “I wouldn’t put it past them to have instructed the car service to drive me to D.C., and no fucking way am I sitting in the same room with them. Not today.”
“Carter. They’re your parents.”
“And I’m an adult. Adults don’t have to talk to their parents when their parents fuck up.”
She grinned. “Very adult response.”
“Whatever,” he said, surly.
“Be careful, Ells. Call Paul after my flight, please? I fly out in two hours so… please wait ‘til then.”
“I will,” Ella said on a sigh.
With that, Carter grabbed his suitcase and wheeled out, then down the elevator, and out onto 2nd Avenue, where he held his hand out to hail a cab. After depositing his suitcase in the trunk and telling the driver to head to LaGuardia, he dropped his head back against the seat and took the first deep breath he had taken since he’d woken the day before to a world gone mad.


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Simple Things
by Kade Boehme
Coming March 25th!