Guest Post and Exclusive Excerpt – The Autumn Lands by J. Scott Coatsworth

It’s Not Long Enough

It’s been about two years since I decided to get back into the writing game again.

I’d started writing young, when I was in fourth grade. Through junior high and high school, I’d written short stories, then part of a novel, and then another one. And then somehow it had drifted away from me on a tide of rejections and indifference from one publisher after another.

I went on with my life, every now and then taking a stab at the whole writing thing again. But every time I started up, I’d hit a road block:

—I wasn’t good enough.

—No one wanted what I was writing.

—My writing muscles had atrophied after so much time.

—I just… couldn’t.

Then something shifted. I had just gotten derailed once again and was complaining about it when my husband, Mark, gave me a serious dose of reality. If I wasn’t writing, he said, it was my own damned fault. I had no one to blame but myself. And the hell of it was, he was right.

So I started over again.

This time, I gave myself permission to be a failure.  I allowed myself to write whatever came out, and to not prejudge it. And I went back and looked at some of my earlier work.

A lot of it was crap. But some of it was pretty damned good.

So I worked on exercising my writing muscles again, starting with short stories and scanning the MM publisher sites for upcoming anthologies that were accepting submissions. I was rejected by three of them. But one of them sold.

Then another, and another.

I decided to go longer, and started writing novellas. The first one was rejected for an anthology, but the publisher came back to me and asked me to resubmit it as a stand-alone. I did, and a day later, they accepted it.

I became more comfortable in my own writing skin, and wrote and sold another novella, and then another. And then the reviews started to come in.

They were pretty unanimous. “I liked the story. But it should have been longer.” They wanted to see more development of the storyline and the characters. At first, I was depressed. Then my friends pointed out that they wanted more!

And so I went longer.

The Autumn Lands is my longest story yet, clocking in at 35k. And while I have a couple more novellas in the pipeline that I wrote in late 2014 and early 2015, my next two efforts will both be both novellas. One of them I wrote for NaNo, and the other I’ve been working on for quite a while. I’m starting to get comfortable writing in the longer forms

I hope that my latest efforts will satisfy all the fiction size queens out there. :)

After all, size does matter.


Publisher: Mischief Corner Books
Author: J. Scott Coatsworth
Cover Artist: Freddy MacKay
Length: 35k
Format: eBook, Paperback
Release Date: 1/27/16
Pairing: MM
Price: 3.99

2015NewAbout the Book

Jerrith is running. Kissed by an elf, he can’t remain in his hometown of Althos any more. Not that he wanted to stay.

Caspian still hasn’t figured out why he kissed Jerrith, but he’s running too. Since he was exiled from the Autumn Lands, his past has been hazy, and his future uncertain.

But when a stray memory brings things into focus, the two decide to run toward something together. What they uncover will change how they see the world, and themselves, forever.


Rough hands hauled Cas away from the Vandris youth and out into the lamp-lit square of the little ramshackle town. He struggled, twisting back and forth, and got in a good punch to one of the men’s pug-nosed faces before they pushed him down to the hard cobblestone street, knocking the wind out of him.

“Twisted little Nevris bastard,” one of the men snarled above him as he struggled to draw a breath. He backed up against a lamp pole, but there was no escaping the bastards. His mind raced. How had he let himself get so distracted by the Vandris boy? Even now, as Cas watched the youth run away into the darkness, he was more concerned with the other’s safety than his own.

A punch to his gut brought him back to his current predicament. If he’d had his knife out of his carry sack…

Instead, he retreated into himself. Physical pain isn’t real, Jorrim, his trainer, had told him more than once. It’s just a sensation. If you know how, you can turn it off.

Emotional pain was another matter altogether.

He shut down and found relief even as the brute townsmen beat him, kicking his legs and ribs and punching his face over and over.

He felt none of it, floating on a calm internal sea while the storm raged outside. He gave them no satisfaction for their efforts, and eventually they gave up.

He felt his body being dragged away. To the gallows, he supposed, but in his detached state he couldn’t bring himself to care.

They dumped his body onto another hard surface. Metal clanged against metal.

After that, he was aware of nothing else but his dreams.

The hills of the Autumn Lands stretched out before Cas as far as he could see, each one different from the others but blending in to make a harmonious whole, a tapestry of reds and golds and fire-orange. In the distance, the waters of the Marrowmere glistened in the afternoon sunlight. His ultimate destination.

He was eighteen, the age of majority in the Autumn Lands, and he’d been sent out of Seasuir to the lake to be shown his destiny, just like every child of the royal line was. Cas’s father and grandfather before him had done the same.

He pulled his bow off his shoulder and sighted a dove flying over the next hill. With deadly accuracy, he loosed an arrow and brought it down. Along with the rambleberries he’d collected during the day, he’d at least have something to eat tonight.

He slipped down the hill into the next valley to retrieve his kill.

Something brought Cas out of his dreams. His body ached all over, and his ribs were especially sore from the beating he’d taken in the street. He would heal—if he lived long enough—and faster than these Vandris.


There it was again, the sound that had awakened him. He sat up in the dark room—a cell, he assumed—and winced at the pain that pierced his side. He reached up to touch his face in the darkness. There was dried blood there. He must look a fright.

He managed to get to his feet with some effort, ignoring the pain in his legs, and quietly paced his way around the cell. On one side there was a high window covered with metal bars, no more than two handlengths wide—the golden moon shone through, giving him enough light to see the rough edges of the small space. The cell was bounded on three sides by dark rock and mortar walls; with his hands, he could feel the cement that held the rough stones together.

The fourth side was a wall of metal bars. He followed them up and down with his hands; they were set firmly into the stone and there was no moving them. There was a heavy lock holding the door to his cell closed.

He was well and truly trapped.

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2015NewAbout the author

j-scott-coatsworthScott has been writing since elementary school, when he and won a University of Arizona writing contest in 4th grade for his first sci fi story (with illustrations!). He finished his first novel in his mid twenties, but after seeing it rejected by ten publishers, he gave up on writing for a while.

Over the ensuing years, he came back to it periodically, but it never stuck. Then one day, he was complaining to Mark, his husband, early last year about how he had been derailed yet again by the death of a family member, and Mark said to him “the only one stopping you from writing is you.”

Since then, Scott has gone back to writing in a big way, finishing more than a dozen short stories – some new, some that he had started years before – and seeing his first sale. He’s embarking on a new trilogy, and also runs the Queer Sci Fi ( site, a support group for writers of gay sci fi, fantasy, and supernatural fiction.







Blog Tour, Guest Post, Excerpt, & Giveaway – Travels Through the Scarlet Equinox Anthology


What is Your Fantasy?

Many different types of stories get chucked under the “Fantasy” genre these days. Or, at the very least, have fantasy listed as one of the subgenres of the story. There is a lot of intermingling between the genres these days—the lines waning and blurring between the different forms of fiction. Not unlike the reality we currently find ourselves living in. There is so much out there—information, people, ideas, philosophies—that one person would never manage to get through it all.

The traditional categorization of fantasy is a genre of fiction in which the supernatural and magic are used as part of the primary plot elements, themes or settings. This can be divided into Dark Fantasy, EPIC Fantasy, Urban Fantasy, and more.

But is it okay to blur the lines? Some say yes. Others are staunchly against it.

I have watched people go in circles for hours arguing about what is “fantasy” versus “paranormal” versus “horror,” and so on and so forth. People have very specific ideas of what each of them are and what the expectations are. The thing I walk away with is that people *DO* want to categorize their literature somehow. They want to be able to put it on a certain shelf and have certain expectations of what it is and what it will do.

Does this limit the different genres? Quite possibly.

There are authors and stories that regularly mix and match different concepts from different genres. In fact, I would say some of the most successful stories of all time are genre-mixers. Some authors can do it successfully, while others miss the mark by a mile. Why? What’s the difference?

There are two issues. One. The author’s background. Two. Reader expectation.

An author coming from a fantasy background will write their story differently than a romance author and vice versa. Just as a reader coming from a fantasy background will also have different expectations for a story than a reader of a paranormal background or a science fiction or any other numerous genre that’s out there. The author’s strengths will lie in their roots and the reader’s expectation will dictate how they expect a story to go while they’re reading.  When genres mesh, those lines, the categorizations become harder and sometimes they don’t meet what the author wants or the reader expects.

When I stumbled onto gay romance I came from Yaoi. The gay romance we know and love today actually has its roots in Yaoi. But Yaoi had a different set of expectations and also had been around long enough to allow diversification because readers craved it. When I stumbled onto English gay romance I was surprised. Not because what I read was bad, far from it, but because I was used to specific things when I went into Yaoi stories. It is those differences, which informed me as an author. I was willing to step out of some of the normal tropes English readers had in their stories, but even then, I didn’t qualify myself as a gay romance author but as a queer fiction author.

Another difference is my background is in science fiction and fantasy, as well as mysteries. I grew up with a library. No joke. Just ask the people who have seen my dad’s bookshelves. I grew up peering over his shoulder reading Dick Frances and Asimov. The types of stories I thrived on came from a different background with different expectations than what I know a fair amount of people I meet are. The majority of people I’ve meet are through the gay romance genre, most of them coming from het romance.

And I’ve learned a great deal from those people. About relationships. About loyalty. Love.

To me I see the story, the plot, and theme. What is it trying to tell me? Tell the reader? I can’t turn those things off if I tried. Everything I write has a specific theme it’s trying to tell. For example, my SF story The Nut Job is all about how fanaticism, and denial despite evidence stating otherwise, will lead to dangerous, often deadly situations. Do I expect people to get that? Not necessarily. Am I excited when they do? I’m fucking ecstatic.

The one thing that has changed, for the better I think, is I have learned to look at the interpersonal relationships differently because of my exposure to gay romance. And I think my stories have strengthened because of it. Because of the support the romance gives, my fantasies (or SF or any other genre) are better because of it.

The romances may be a little different. Not what people expect, but that’s my background showing through. My fantasy.

The lines are blurred, but the story wins out in the end. I have my urban fantasy—where the supernatural and other worldly creatures drive the plot and theme, and then I shake in a little romance to tug at those beautiful heartstrings people wear, hoping I succeed in telling a story and help people love a little more.

So that’s my fantasy. What is yours?


TravelsFSTITLE: Travels Through The Scarlet Equinox

AUTHOR: Toni Griffin, J. Scott Coatsworth, Angel Martinez, Freddy MacKay


LENGTH: 475 Pages

RELEASE DATE: November 18, 2015

BLURB: The Autumnal equinox—when the trees dress in their formal scarlet and gold and the crisp air whispers of chance and change, when bright days turn into sudden storms and the veil between reality and imagination thins. Join the Mischief Corner authors as they share stories evoking this often unpredictable time of year.

A Bear’s Bear by Toni Griffin

Matthew Warner’s been a Chicago Bears fan as far back as he can remember. What other team was a young bear shifter from the Smokey Mountains supposed to root for? When his college friend gets tickets to the next home game, Matthew jumps at the chance for a holiday. It’s his favorite time of year and Nic promises him pumpkin carving and a visit to the world’s largest corn maze, what more could he want?

What Matthew doesn’t expect is finding out the defensive tackle for the Bears is his mate. Between fainting at the realization, meeting family, and dealing with the media fallout of his mate’s coming out Matthew is in for a hell of a rocky Halloween.

The Autumn Lands by J. Scott Coatsworth

Jerrith is running. Kissed by an elf, he can’t remain in his hometown of Althos anymore. Not that he wanted to stay.

Caspian still hasn’t figured out why he kissed Jerrith, but he’s running too. Since he was exiled from the Autumn Lands, his past has been hazy, and his future uncertain. But when a stray memory brings things into focus, the two decide to run toward something together. What they uncover will change how they see the world, and themselves, forever.

Beside a Black Tarn by Angel Martinez

When Shax stumbles across rumors of an experimental house that responds to the occupant’s brain functions, creating scenarios to please and delight, naturally he wants to steal it. But with the return of a troubled and hunted Julian Parallax and an overabundance of Poe references, even Shax’s scheming may not be enough to get the Brimstone crew out alive this time.

Eternity in the Tides by Freddy MacKay

Autumn has always been Zak’s favorite season for hiking and camping. Not to mention breathing in all that crisp fall air and sitting around toasty bonfires. That all changed year and a half ago when a rich prick high on prescription pills sideswiped Zak while he was out biking.

Now his days are filled with pain and limited mobility. No more camping. No more trails. Zak’s life as he knew it is gone forever.

Back at his beloved stomping grounds, Zak is ready to say hello and goodbye one last time. But when a cry from the frigid Lake Superior waters throws him into the role of a rescuer, more than just his life hangs in the balance. Little did Zak know how much one person giving a damn mattered to him.



A Bear’s Bear by Toni Griffin


“Take a seat,” Christian said as he closed the door behind them. The Alpha was acting strangely, especially when he checked the hall just before the door closed. Christian walked over to where Matthew was sitting. Instead of taking a seat behind the desk as Matthew would have expected, Christian hiked a leg and leaned against the edge of the desk just to the side of him.

“Thank you for taking a minute to speak with me.”

“Anything you need, Alpha.” Matthew nodded. His hands were already sweating. Matthew rubbed them back and forth on his pants, hoping to dry them.

“There’s no reason to be nervous,” Christian assured him, chuckling lightly. “You’ve done nothing wrong.”

Matthew nodded as he sighed in relief.

“I know we don’t know each other very well,” Christian started and Matthew nodded again. “However, you’ve known my younger brother for years.”

“I have. He’s a good guy.”

“He is. Can be a pain in the ass sometimes, but I love him nonetheless.” Christian chuckled.

Matthew was too nervous to do anything more than smile.

“Anyway, I happened to overhear a conversation you had earlier on the phone.”

Matthew swallowed and fisted the denim of his jeans in his hands. Would Christian stop him from going on vacation? Was there a sleuth in Chicago? Did he need to notify them of his travel plans?

“Yes?” he asked quietly.

“You’re planning to travel to Chicago, is that correct?”

Matthew nodded slowly.


Matthew furrowed his brows. Why on earth would Christian think his travel plans were excellent? “I don’t understand.”

“I was wondering if you wouldn’t mind doing me a favor.”

“A favor? Me?”

Christian nodded. “I’m trying to go through the sleuth, one by one, and get to know everyone as the Alpha. But Bobby trusts you. And I was hoping I could too.”

Trust me? To do what? Matthew went back to rubbing his hands on his pants. If he could comfortably put them in his pockets sitting down, he would have, but he couldn’t. When Matthew didn’t say anything, Christian smiled kindly at him and continued. “I have an item that I plan on purchasing that I don’t feel comfortable with the postal system handling. I was wondering if you wouldn’t mind picking it up while you’re in Chicago and bringing it back for me.”

Matthew’s mind raced. What exactly was his new Alpha into? Surely it wouldn’t be anything illegal; drugs and guns were just a couple of the things that popped into his mind. Matthew shook his head. There was no way Christian would put a member of his sleuth in danger like that, but he couldn’t help but ask.

“I won’t get into trouble for doing this, will I?”

“No.” Christian laughed. “Although if Vinnie finds out, he might have a few words to say to you.

“Vincent?” Why would Christian’s mate want to talk to him if he did this?

“The item in question is from Tiffany’s,” Christian said, raising his brow. Matthew’s eyes widened as everything suddenly made sense. Oh wow!

“Yes,” he blurted. “Yes, sure, okay, I would be honored. Anything you need.”

Christian chuckled, placed a hand on his shoulder, and squeezed.

“Thank you. You can understand why I don’t want an item such as this being posted or even couriered to me.”

“I can. I’m touched that you trust me to collect it and deliver it into your hands.”

“You’re of my sleuth. I would trust you with my life.”

Matthew’s eyes teared up at the absolute sincerity he felt from his Alpha. No one before had ever had so much faith in him.

“Thank you. I won’t let you down.”


The Autumn Lands by J. Scott Coatsworth

Jerrith Ladner ran down Dyer’s Alley in Althos, winded but not daring to stop. He swung left down Chaplain’s Lane where the lanterns cast a crazy patchwork of light across cobbles, uneven enough to give even the Night Guard pause. His lungs hurt, but he didn’t slow down and didn’t dare glance back.

The occasional passerby stared at him as he flashed past, but he ignored them. Several times he stumbled and fell, and blood dripped down his bare leg from a skinned knee. The outskirts of town were silent, with almost everyone already indoors for the night.

His recent past was a blur, with snatches of it flitting by in his head like birds, flapping and confusing him with their unsteady rhythm:

The kiss.

The unexpected shock of it.

The glimpse of the Autumn Lands through the Nevris man’s golden eyes.

At last, exhausted, Jerrith ducked behind a low wall that ran along the fields just outside of town and looked back.

It was quiet. There was nothing but blackness crisscrossed by lamplight at even intervals.

Almost sobbing, he sat down with his back to the wall and curled up into himself, scarcely noticing the pain that traced the lines of his rib cage or even the bright line of red on his leg.

Ever so slowly, his heavy breathing eased and his jumbled mind began to sort things out.

He had been walking to the Smithy in the early morning when the Nevris caravan had passed him by, six wagons of merchandise from the Autumn Lands covered with heavy tarps, crossing through town on its way to the stables on the far side of the village. A stranger had drawn his attention—an outrider for the caravan.

Tall and slender where Jerrith was stocky and muscled, he was a young man, more or less Jerrith’s own age. His blond hair had been pulled back behind his pointed ears, the mark of the Nevris. He moved with a quiet and restrained grace.

His eyes were wide and golden, and they’d met his as Jerrith crossed the town square on the way to ‘prentice to the blacksmith. The man’s gaze had filled Jerrith with something hot and impulsive, a sense of anticipation. Something that he had no name for.

Then he’d been gone.

Jerrith had spent the long, dizzying hours of work in the Smithy, hammering out heated metal into a new plowshare for Farmer Angus, the hot breath of the bellows tempered only by the cool springtime air from outside. Trying to forget those eyes.

The heat of the oven only served to fuel the heat he felt inside, until he thought he might explode.

Sent home at last well after nightfall, he’d heard a whispered voice from the dark alleyway between the Alchemist’s shop and the Rutting Crow. Jerrith had looked around to see if anyone was watching, then slipped into the alley, his heart beating faster and the bulge in his pants stiffening.

The man had kissed him hard and rough, and he’d returned the kiss passionately as the Nevris man pulled him close.


Beside a Black Tarn by Angel Martinez

“Do you have your route planned?” Shax asked Leopold as he tucked the field glasses into his jacket.

“Up the long drainpipe. On the side without windows. The master suite first.”

“That’s my boy. Remember, only what’s out in the open tonight. No looking for safes, trapdoors, or hidden rooms.”

An irritated peep followed his advice, accompanied by what Shax was beginning to recognize as a hedgehog glare. “I have it, Captain. You gave simple instructions. I am not Heckle.”

“Now, now. None of that.” Shax ran a hand through his hair to complete his artful mussing. “Heckle’s not stupid. Just… easily distracted.”

“And impetuous. And clumsy and so twitchy. Curious fingers.”

“He did apologize and has orders not to enter your burrow again. Please let it go.” Shax unfastened the first three buttons of his shirt. “Here we go, then. I’ll do the best I can to give you time, but when you hear me leaving or when I call for you, it’s time to go.”

With a last pat to Shax’s leg, Leopold dropped to all fours and scurried off through the vegetation. This would be classic accomplice distraction technique, nothing fancy. Start with the basics. He tapped in the code for the Brimstone‘s pilot pod where Ness was monitoring. “We’re going in, cupcake. Radio silence, please. I’ll yell if we need you.”

“Please be careful, my love.” Ness’s soft voice caressed his nerves.

“Easy job. Nothing to worry about.”

“You do know you’ve said that before.”

“Hush. No more. I’ll see you soon.”

He started for the front door, keeping in plain sight, dragging his right foot a bit in case anyone was watching. Tonight, Leopold was the second-story man while Shax was just the diversion.

He waited until Leopold had made it around the side of the house before he lifted the handle on the gargoyle knocker and hammered on the door. “Hello! Is anyone home? Please, please help! There’s been a terrible accident!”

A thin, terrified wail seeped through the heavy door. Shax tilted his head to listen. No, this was getting too ridiculous. A clank of chains accompanied heavy footfalls toward the door. Something on the other side let out an eerie moan. Then the door swung open on creaking hinges to reveal a dim, cobweb-festooned chandelier in a much-neglected front hall.

Oh, for all the sulfurous pits’ sakes. Shax decided to play along and performed the requisite action by calling “Hello?” at the dark and sinister interior.

He jerked back when a face suddenly popped up before him. Pale, cadaverous, sunken eyes wide, the apparition regarded him openmouthed for a single instant.

“Bells and whiskers!” the apparition whispered in obvious horror. “What in all elements are you doing out there? You’re supposed to be in here. Oh my goodness.”

A skeletal hand closed around Shax’s wrist and he blinked in confusion as he was dragged inside. “Pardon?”

“It’s really rather rude of you. If you’re going to answer the summons, you should at least do it properly.”

“I’m… sorry?”


Eternity in the Tides by Freddy MacKay

Crimson, hot pink, burnt orange, and a dark purple lit the sky and splashed over the calm waters of Lake Superior. Dusk had fallen in all its beauty, gracing Zak with the perfect moment at his favorite stomping grounds. If he had to go, and well… yeah, he couldn’t ask for anything better than this. Tonight was the night. Had to be.

Water lapped at the boat, rocking it gently. A breeze wafted over Zak. He shivered, then hugged himself as he looked over the lake, back at Madeline Island. Like each night over the past few days, a pang of longing hit him. Zak had said his goodbyes, accepted the fate handed to him, knew better than to hold on to dreams he could never have. He should have been able to take the next step.

But he couldn’t.

Each night he rowed back to his rental cabin, Quiet Bequest, in defeat. What the hell he held on for, Zak didn’t have a clue. His heart thumped heavily, his palms slipped over the oars, and the hair on his arms stood up —goose bumps everywhere—as if something big were about to happen.

Well, yeah, something huge if Zak could get his head on straight. Well, maybe not straight—his plan was utter ridiculousness to the outside observer. Made sense to him, though. But then it would.

Anticipation rode Zak hard. He knew what he had to do. Planned it. Came determined. This trip, the two-week cabin retreat he could never afford, the rowboat—my accident—had been in the works for months. And now… now Zak cowered in his waterlogged rowboat.


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About Toni Griffin

Toni Griffin lives in Darwin, the smallest of Australia’s capital cities. Born and raised in the state she’s a Territorian through and through. Growing up Toni hated English with a passion (as her editors can probably attest to) and found her strength lies with numbers.

Now, though, she loves escaping to the worlds she creates and hopes to continue to do so for many years to come. She’s a single mother of one and works full time. When she’s not writing you can just about guarantee that she will be reading one of the many MM authors she loves.

For a complete list of books, go to:

:: Website :: Facebook Page ::


About J. Scott Coatsworth

Scott is the admin for the Queer Sci Fi site. He has been writing since ele- mentary school, when he and won a University of Arizona writing contest in 4th grade for his first sci fi story (with illustrations!). He finished his first novel in his mid twenties, but after seeing it rejected by ten publishers, he gave up on writing for a while.

Over the ensuing years, he came back to it periodically, but it never stuck. Then one day, he was complaining to Mark, his husband, about how he had been derailed yet again by the death of a family member, and Mark said to him “the only one stopping you from writing is you.”

Since then, Scott has gone back to writing in a big way, finishing more than a dozen short stories—some new, some that he had started years be- fore—and seeing his first sale. He’s embarking on a new trilogy, and also runs QSF, a support group for writers of gay sci fi, fantasy, and supernatu- ral fiction.

:: Website :: Twitter :: Facebook Page ::


About Freddy MacKay

Freddy grew up in the Midwest, playing sports and running around outside. And honestly, that much has not changed since Freddy was small and throwing worms at other kids, expect worm throwing has been replaced with a healthy geocaching addiction. Freddy enjoys traveling and holds the view a person should continually to learn about new things and people whenever possible.

Freddy’s contemporary LGBTQ book, Incubation: Finding Peace 2, won 3rd Place – Best Gay Erotic Fiction in the 2012 Rainbow Awards. In 2013, Freddy’s story, Internment, tied for 3rd Place – Best Gay Fantasy in the Rainbow Awards. Freddy’s steampunk/SF story, Feel Me, was a finalist and honorable mention in the 2014 Rainbow Awards for SF. You can email Freddy at:

:: Website :: Twitter ::

About Angel Martinez

While Angel Martinez is the erotic fiction pen name of a writer of several genres, she writes both kinds of gay romance – Science Fiction and Fantasy. Currently living part time in the hectic sprawl of northern Delaware, (and full time inside the author’s head) Angel has one husband, one son, two cats, a changing variety of other furred and scaled companions, a love of all things beautiful and a terrible addiction to the consumption of both knowledge and chocolate.

:: Website :: Facebook Page :: Goodreads :: Email ::


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Second Winner’s Prize: Mischief Corner Books Swag From

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November 18 The Purple Rose Tea House
November 19 Drops of Ink
November 20 The Land of Make Believe
November 23 Cia’s Stories
Prism Book Alliance
November 24 Carly’s Book Reviews
November 25 Fangirl Moments and My Two Cents
Elisa – My Reviews and Ramblings
November 27 Loving Without Limits
November 30 Divine Magazine
December 1 Scattered Thoughts And Rogue Words
December 2 Hearts on Fire Reviews
December 3 Foxylutely Books
December 4 Wicked Faeries Tales and Reviews
December 7 Sue Brown
December 8 Eyes on Books
December 9 Jessie G Books
December 10 Bayou Book Junkie
December 11 BFD Book Blog
Gay Media Reviews
December 12 Love Bytes Reviews


Blog Tour & Exclusive Excerpt – The Homecoming by J. Scott Coatsworth

Thanks, Charlie, for having me on your blog again. :)

For my new released, “The Homecoming”, out today from Less Than Three Press, I have an exclusive excerpt for you. This is my “wolfman meets spaceman” story, and this scene begins when Alvin, one of the four returnees to Earth, first wakes up after his ship, the Sapphire, has crash landed.

I hope you enjoy it.

TH Cover


Author: J. Scott Coatsworth
Publisher: Less Than Three Press
Published: July 29th, 2015
Genre: Gay, Sci-fi
Length: Novella
Cover Artist: London Burden
ISBN: 9781620045831

2015NewAbout the BookWhen his own world is destroyed, Aldiss and his crew barely manage to escape, leaving friends and lovers behind. What was meant to be an exploratory trip back to the home world turns into a mad dash for survival.

When they awaken from stasis on Earth, which was abandoned by humanity five centuries before, they must quickly learn about their new home. While exploring the region around the ship, Aldiss meets Hari, a shape-changer, whose people harbor secrets that might cost the crew their lives.

Purchase Links

Less Than Three PressAmazon | ARe | Kobo


Aldiss Harlson’s eyes flickered open. He lay on a firm bed, staring up at a ceiling crowded with instrumentation. He blinked, and tried to move. His body was sluggish, non- responsive. Where am I? Did we make it?

He turned his head to look down at his wrist, where a tube was attached to his circulatory system via an embedded shunt.

Memory returned, slowly. He was on the Sapphire. He was on a mission back to Earth, the home world of legend, the world his grandfather Alvin, the old bastard, had died trying to reach.

His own world had ended.
The suspension drugs leached their way slowly out of his system. His blood was recirculated and cleansed. Eventually he sat up, shakily throwing his legs over the side of the suspension bed.

The dreams that had plagued him in suspension lingered: fire and brimstone, the world’s ceiling falling, hot crystal that tore through whatever it touched. Lorin running after him. The ship blasting off with just the four of them. He’d been too late.

Aldiss shuddered, and pushed down the painful memories. Too soon. Too much grief. Better, now, to care for the ones who were here.

He stood, stretching long-unused muscles, and surveyed the insides of the small exploration ship. The guidance console flashed. He waved his hand over it and a 3-D model of the ship appeared, red marks plastered all over it. Probably damaged in the fall, it would never fly again. It was a miracle they’d reached Earth at all.

He was the first awake. The others were as still as corpses under the plas of their suspension beds. He sat still for a few moments, alone with his thoughts, while the last of the drugs wore off, and then disconnected the shunt.

“Sapphire, status of the others?”
Silence. Maybe the AI had been damaged, too.
The emergency lights cast a reddish pall over the tiny ship’s innards, looking far too much like blood. He found an ASEA jumpsuit that fit him in one of the lockers, and then swiped the console, bringing up the manual controls. The vitals for the other three explorers appeared in mid-air before him—at least that still worked.

Rober Cosgrove and Xandra Collier looked fine, but there was something wrong with Cat Ivins. They’d check her status once she had been awakened.

There would be four from Antana present for this homecoming of sorts, though it was a rather hastily executed one. Four souls. Few enough to build a new world with.

The exploration mission had taken on a renewed urgency when the Flare had begun, and they had barely escaped with their lives. He looked sadly at the empty sleep cells; two hadn’t even made it to the ship. Gods, Lorin, I miss you. He had been the team archeologist, but he’d been much more than that to Aldiss.

It seemed like just a moment ago that his world had ended—though almost a year had passed.

What do you do when your world dies? There were no precedents, not that he was aware of, except perhaps the end of the D’narth. But no one could have prepared him for the loss of his city, in Kanador, or of Antana. He grasped the memdisc that hung upon a chain around his neck, one of the few things he’d brought with him.

He supposed he was a spaceman now, a man without a home.

He checked his arm. The slit where he’d been struck by a shard of burning crystal had healed with the smallest of scars. He was lucky, he supposed, though maybe he’d have been better off dead. He shook his head—there was no time for self-pity.

He was also fortunate that the auto protocol had initiated his awakening from the Sleep. Now it was time to bring the others out, too. Better their company than the bleakness in his own soul.

He ran through the procedure, starting with Rober, then Xandra, then Cat, setting a time delay between each.

When it was done, he put his head in his hands and cried until no more tears would come.

2015NewAbout the author

j-scott-coatsworthScott has been writing since elementary school, when he and won a University of Arizona writing contest in 4th grade for his first sci fi story (with illustrations!). He finished his first novel in his mid twenties, but after seeing it rejected by ten publishers, he gave up on writing for a while.

Over the ensuing years, he came back to it periodically, but it never stuck. Then one day, he was complaining to Mark, his husband, early last year about how he had been derailed yet again by the death of a family member, and Mark said to him “the only one stopping you from writing is you.”

Since then, Scott has gone back to writing in a big way, finishing more than a dozen short stories – some new, some that he had started years before – and seeing his first sale. He’s embarking on a new trilogy, and also runs the Queer Sci Fi site, a support group for writers of gay sci fi, fantasy, and supernatural fiction.