All Cocks stories, book 7
There comes a time in every man’s life where he has to make a choice between what is right, and what is easy.
Born and raised in Fort Worth Texas by extremely open minded parents, Dean Anderson realized early in life that he was attracted to both sexes. He never picked his lovers because of the parts they did, or didn’t have, more so based on personality and common interests. He met Maggie in college, fell in love, got married and started a family. And they were happy… until they weren’t.
Adam Chase’s life was slightly different. His mother is South African, his father American military working at the US Embassy in Pretoria, South Africa. His parent’s positions in the South African and American governments awarded Adam dual citizenship, so he decided to attend University in America, Berkley to be exact. In America, Adam is able to live openly as a gay man, something that could get him killed in his mother’s home country. He met his husband, Patrick Carter, at college and they too were happy… until Patrick died.
Two lives converge when they cross paths and, it would seem, fate is giving them both a second chance at happiness. Dean decides to stay in New York and moves into the apartment his son, Dusty, shares with his boyfriend David. He and Adam are quickly welcomed into All Cocks vastly growing family. One phone call changes everything.
The men of All Cocks are about to learn that death is just another part of life, a road everyone travels eventually. They rally together, drawing strength from each other as their close knit family experiences the best, and the worst, life has to offer. Choices are made, decisions that will change their lives irrevocably. But that’s what families do, right?
Add Choices and Changes to your TBR shelf on Goodreads
NOTE: This is an unedited synopsis that could likely change.
A totally NSFW Excerpt from Choices and Changes…
Thank you so much Two Chicks Obsessed for hosting my cover reveal! I had so much fun with this story and I think Garrett Leigh did a great job in capturing that fun on the cover. When the States of Love series was announced I snapped California right up, knowing it would be a great opportunity to write a story that had been in the back of my head for ages, about a grumpy guy who works in an ice cream parlor and the real life Disney Prince he falls in love with.
I hope you guys enjoy reading it as much as I did writing it!
Cooper Reed has a fairly relaxed life for someone who lives in LA. He’s no celebrity—just the guy who makes sundaes at the Dreamy Creamery, and that’s the way he likes it. The highlight of every week is the beautiful guy who turns up and orders a sundae with rainbow sprinkles. Cooper still isn’t sure if that’s a code, because he has a huge crush and the hot guy is terrible at flirting.
It turns out Drew Tanner is an original California dreamer. He’s as wholesome as apple pie and twice as sweet, a real-life Disney Prince at Disneyland. But while Drew’s head is in the clouds, Cooper’s feet are firmly on the ground, and their different outlooks might be more than their new relationship can take.
States of Love: Stories of romance that span every corner of the United States.
Title – Rainbow Sprinkles
Author – Anna Martin
Release date – 29.03.17
Cover art – Garrett Leigh/Black Jazz Design
California was sweltering through an early heat wave, the temperatures hitting the low 90s—and it was only April. Cooper’s hottie was sweating at the temples, just a little, just enough to dampen his dark blond hair.
“Amen to that. Can I get a….”
He looked over the menu like he didn’t stop by here at least once a week. Cooper would have expected anyone who got two sundaes a week to be a little chubby around the edges, but not his hottie. He was tall and broad shouldered, with a narrow waist and long legs. Most of the time he came by in workout gear. Whoever thought to put an ice cream parlor on the same patch as a gym was either an idiot or a genius. Probably a genius, since the Dreamy Creamery was signposted on billboards for miles, and they were on the main route into Disneyland. The place saw a lot of tourist traffic.
“Birthday Cake and Green Tea.”
Cooper winced. “You sure?”
“You’re sure something,” Cooper laughed, turning back to the freezers and his scoop. “In a cup, right?”
“Yeah. And with—”
“Rainbow sprinkles,” Cooper finished for him.
Always the same. Always gross combinations of ice cream, topped with rainbow sprinkles, and if that wasn’t code, Cooper was going to die.
Anna Martin is from a picturesque seaside village in the southwest of England and now lives in the Bristol, a city that embraces her love for the arts. After spending most of her childhood making up stories, she studied English literature at university before attempting to turn her hand as a professional writer.
Apart from being physically dependent on her laptop, Anna is enthusiastic about writing and producing local grassroots theater (especially at the Edinburgh Fringe Festival, where she can be found every summer), going to visit friends in other countries, and reading anything that’s put under her nose.
Anna claims her entire career is due to the love, support, prereading, and creative ass kicking provided by her best friend Jennifer. Jennifer refuses to accept responsibility for anything Anna has written.
Anna is giving away one eBook copy of Rainbow Sprinkles available on release day. Leave a comment for a chance to win!
Life makes no promises, and sometimes, you draw the short straw.Landon Johnston’s life came to a grinding halt seven months ago, when he was diagnosed with terminal cancer.With the encouragement of his grandmother, Landon works his way out of his slump and tries to live life while he still can.Deciding he doesn’t want to drag anyone else down his morbid path, Landon gives up all friendships and denies himself love. It’s better this way, because all he has to offer is eventual heartache and sadness.While traveling the world, Landon meets Abel Matheson, a free-spirited, unedited, and nerve-grating man who was supposed to only be a one-night-stand.Despite Landon’s insistence that he can’t form a relationship with his current diagnoses, Abel is persistent and will not be ignored.Fighting against all his ingrained urges to run, Landon finds himself drawn down the road he swore he’d never take.Intimacy grows and bonds form…Only… Abel doesn’t know Landon is sick.How can anyone love a man with no future?Telling him might cause him to run, but staying silent means living a lie. A lie which will only reveal itself in time.
Nicky James lives in the small town of Petrolia, Ontario, Canada. She is mother to a wonderful teenage boy and wife to a truly supportive and understanding husband who, thankfully, doesn’t think her crazy.
Nicky has always had two profound dreams in life; to fall back hundreds of years in time and live in a simpler world and to write novels. Since only one of those dreams was a possibility, she decided to make the other come alive on paper.
Nicky writes MM romance books in a variety of styles including contemporary, medieval, fantasy, and historical.
Since putting his life on hold ten years ago, Oliver Clayton doesn’t know who he is anymore. To his clients at the hair salon, he’s the sassy and confident stylist. To the crowds who come to watch his drag act at the club, he’s the fierce and fabulous Miss Tique. He’s popular. Talented. Out, proud, and self-assured.
He’s also a good actor.
Sebastian Day is content with life’s easy, if not a little monotonous, routine. After several failed relationships, he likes the simplicity of being alone in his truck at his job as a heavy goods driver, spending the weekends with his teenage son, and putting the world to rights with his cat, Marv. He’s not lonely. He isn’t hiding.
At least…he doesn’t think he is until he meets the mesmerising stranger with the red hair and purple lips.
Can Oliver and Sebastian help each other embrace who they are? Or will a cruel twist of fate end their journey before it’s even begun?
Excerpt from Who We Are.
Copyright Nicola Haken 2017
“Oh! Drinks,” I remembered, pushing out from under the table.
“I’ll get them,” Mum said. “You’ve done enough making this.”
“Have you got any wine?” Auntie Gemma asked. “Red, preferably.”
“No, sorry.” I forced an apologetic frown as I lied to her. She was gobby enough without alcohol in her system.
My mum returned moments later with eight glass tumblers, four stacked in each hand, and a bottle of lemonade tucked sideways under her chin, which Oliver grabbed before it fell.
“Thanks, sweetie,” she said, setting the glasses out on the table.
As she started pouring drinks, Scott reached out to grab a piece of garlic bread, using his thumb and little finger – the only digits he had on his right hand.
I caught Tyler staring at his hand, a line of curiosity forming between his eyebrows. “What happened to your fingers?”
“Ty,” Oliver interrupted, his voice low yet slightly scalding.
“Nah, it’s okay,” Scott said, turning back to Tyler. “I’d rather people ask me than stare like I’m a freak. I had meningitis when I was a kid. I’ve got missin’ toes too. Wanna see?”
“Not at the dinner table,” I cut in, baffled and slightly amused by the pride he took in his missing body parts.
“Sick.” Tyler rolled up the sleeve on his hoody. “I’ve got this scar here from when I fell off my bike when I was six. Broke it so bad they had to operate and put a pin in it.”
Scott nodded, impressed. “Cool.”
I glanced at Oliver to see if he found their fascination with scars and missing fingers as bizarre as I did. I guessed he did by the shrug and somewhat bewildered look he gave me. But, hey, at least the boys were getting along and that was great to see.
“This tastes mint, Dad,” Scott said, shovelling another forkful of lasagne into his mouth. “How’s yours, Uncle Rob?”
I wanted to drown the cocky little shit in the bath.
Uncle Rob nodded, still chewing. “Good, thank you.”
“So, Oliver,” Auntie Gemma began. “How do you get that shine on your cheeks? Your face looks…” she trailed off, wiggling her fork in the air while she thought of the right word.
“Like a woman’s,” Uncle Rob mumbled under his breath.
“That’s outta line, Rob,” My dad chimed in.
Rob looked up from his plate, sitting back defiantly in his chair as he glanced between Oliver and my dad. “I’ve nothing against gays…”
Here we go…
“…You know that, but he’s a man, wearing you know, women’s things. Does he want to be a woman? I know that’s all the rage these days too.”
I opened my mouth to put the ignorant fool in his place, something I’d never done before – but he’d never insulted someone I cared about before either, only Oliver beat me to it. “They’re not women’s things, they’re my things, and you’d probably be better asking me,” Oliver began. “No offense to Mr Day, but he’s only just met me. I doubt he’ll be able to answer any questions you have regarding my gender as adequately as I can.” And then, with a swift roll of one shoulder, Oliver carried on eating as if they’d simply been discussing last night’s episode of Coronation Street.
Straightening my back, I dropped my fork onto my plate, staring at Oliver, this incredible man, in utter awe. I’d known Uncle Rob my entire life, put up with his bullshit comments and homophobic slurs for as long as I could remember, and I’d just rolled over and ignored them or changed the subject because he was family and it wasn’t worth the hassle.
But not Oliver. He’d known him less than an hour and here he was, prepared to challenge him and, if I knew Oliver like I thought I did, educate him. Not that I held much hope of Rob actually listening.
“Well? Do you?” Rob asked.
The room fell deathly silent. Auntie Gemma chose to chew her lip and pretend to admire Scott’s school photos on the wall, my parents stared awkwardly at their plates, and Scott and Tyler gawped between Uncle Rob and Oliver with their mouths hung open.
“Do I want to be a woman? No. I’m very happy with my gender.”
“Then…why?” Uncle Rob’s nose scrunched up in what looked like disgust.
“Because I believe everyone deserves to feel good about themselves. I wear what makes me feel good. I don’t particularly like your jumper,” he said, pointing towards the argyle knit my uncle wore. “So I wouldn’t wear that, but under normal circumstances I’d never have told you that because you clearly feel comfortable in it and that’s all that matters.”
Uncle Rob looked down at his grey jumper, the disgust on his face melting into confusion.
“Plus, I’d be interested to meet the person who decided makeup is exclusively for women, given that it hasn’t always been the case. Men have been wearing it since the times of ancient Egypt. Maybe before.” Oliver shrugged. “I’m no historian. My point is, somewhere along the way someone, I don’t know who, decided we shouldn’t do that anymore. Well, unless we’re rock stars, actors, or new romantics, because that’s acceptable, right? Well, seeing as I don’t even know who decided I shouldn’t wear makeup simply because I have a penis, I don’t see why I need to listen to them.”
Oh shit. My mum started coughing and spluttering, choking on the lemonade she’d taken a sip of at, clearly, the worst moment possible. “You okay?” I asked her.
Still coughing, she raised her hand and attempted to nod as my dad patted her back. Oliver’s lips tightened into a firm, worried line, like he was afraid he might’ve been about to ruin what should’ve been a relaxed family dinner by killing my mother. But then she stopped coughing and managed to swig a few sips of the water Auntie Gemma had got from the kitchen without choking to death.
“If anyone’s still interested in what I was saying,” Auntie Gemma began, taking her seat back at the table. “I was trying to say your face looks like something out of a magazine. Photoshopped, almost. How do you get it to look so…so perfect?”
“Practice and good products,” Oliver answered with a proud smile.
“Do you do other people, or just yourself?”
Oh, Christ. Where’s she going with this?
“It’s just, Rob and I have a wedding coming up. My friend’s daughter is getting married in a few months. Could you make my face look as good as that?”
If you sprinkled glitter on a turd would it look like a diamond? I deserved a frigging award for not saying that out loud.
“Sure. I could do your makeup. I’ll give you the number for the salon I work in. Ring up and ask for an appointment with me.”
Thank fuck. At least that way we wouldn’t have to go around to their house for another hour of jaw-aching fake smiles and soul destroying awkwardness.
“Whoop! I’m all excited now!” she said on a squeal, clapping her hands.
Whoop? Who actually says whoop aloud? The same woman who often said LOL as an actual word, that’s who.
“Hey, Dad?” Scott piped up. “Can Ty and I go up to my room to play on the Xbox?”
“Don’t you want pudding? It’s spotted dick,” I said, raising my voice a notch higher. No one could resist spotted dick. “Custard too.”
Scott flashed the side-eye towards my auntie and uncle and said, “We’re full.”
“Sure,” I agreed. “I’ll save you some to reheat later.” Honestly, I wished I could hide out upstairs with them too.
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Nicola Haken lives in Rochdale, England, with her five kids – one of whom is a grown man who many refer to as her husband. She spends her days writing about life, love, and all the beauty and angst that comes with it, and her nights binge watching Netflix or being the household slave. She’s also not very good at referring to herself in the third person, so if you’d like to get to know her your best bet would be to follow her on social media!
Oh, and if the kids ever ask, she moonlights as the Pink Power Ranger while they’re sleeping…
Because this is a story about a man who likes to dress and live as a woman, creating a cover presented a challenge. As an artist, I can certainly take a photograph of a man and apply believable makeup in Photoshop, but at the postage-stamp size, the cover would just look like a story about a woman.
By cropping the model to leave most of his/her appearance to the imagination of the reader, but providing feminine clues, such as the dress, shoes and even the room, I hope to intrigue people enough to investigate further.
I realize that the subject matter will not appeal to everyone, but the essential theme of the book, as in all romances, is acceptance. Being loved for who you are, something I think we all yearn for.
I always find it difficult to decide what to include as an excerpt, but I hope you will like this one:
When Dom finally pried himself away, Lana bolted the door after him in relief.
She really hadn’t needed that added little bit of drama Dom always seemed to stir up. She went back to the window. The man had apparently given up. He was walking west to the end of the block. Then he turned right. Lana waited. After a minute she spied Dom following the man in a suitably surreptitious manner, skulking as he’d promised. Lana rolled her eyes when she saw Dom flatten himself against a building and then sneak around the corner. She drew the curtains, hoping Dom would not call her tonight with the results of his playing detective. If the phone did ring, she would feel obligated to answer to prevent Dom rushing back over here to make sure she was alive.
Lana picked up her shoes and carried them to the bedroom. It was tucked behind a partial wall and furnished with furniture she’d found at the flea market.
The headboard was upholstered in velvet, and a silk duvet covered the bed, lending a bit of luxury to the secondhand pieces. Lana stored her shoes neatly away in the mirrored wardrobe. Early on she’d discovered living in such limited space required organization and constant policing, difficult when paired with an addiction to clothes. She took off her suit and hung it on a padded hanger. Lingerie went into the hamper.
She went down the narrow hall leading to the bathroom. A pedestal sink shared the microscopic space with the toilet and shower, but a bathtub had been sacrificed for the practicality of a washer. The frosted glass window let in light while still guarding her privacy.
Although small, the flat was the first place she’d ever had all to herself. Lana loved the beauty and tranquility she’d created. The only thing that would have made it better was someone to share it with, but that dream was impossible.
Quickly, Lana removed her makeup and bent over the sink to wash. She buried her face in the towel for a moment and then looked up at the mirror to see herself stripped bare.
“Hello, Roland.” His voice was soft and husky. “Nice to see you again.”
Roland reached for a jar of moisturizer. As he started to smooth the cream onto his skin, he closed his eyes and pretended it was another man’s hands roaming over his body. Not just any man, he realized. The hands Roland wanted to feel on his skin were those of the handsome man who’d followed him. The man might prove to be dangerous, but he was sexy as hell. Roland kept thinking about the man even though there was no point. Roland tried to forget him and concentrate on the usual faceless, nameless hero of his imagination. He wrapped his arms around himself in a tender embrace, but tonight the fantasy of happily ever after wasn’t working. That castle in the air dissolved into his lonely reality. After one last try, Roland opened his eyes to be confronted with the reality of him groping himself. He sneered at himself in the mirror.
“L’amour. Le bullshit. Pathetic.”
He returned to the bedroom, put on a negligée, and went to bed.
Do you believe in love at first sight?
Roland Reynolds—or Lana Renault, as she’s now known—knows that life is no fairy tale. Fortunately she has her trusted friends, nicknamed the dwarfs, to keep her company. She lives her life to the fullest while keeping what’s beneath her skirt to herself.
American painter Daniel Hunter is no stranger to adversity either, and it’s left him with not only strength but secrets. Unlike Lana, he remains aloof, content to observe life and beauty from the sidelines… until the first time their eyes meet on a crowded Paris street.
Cupid’s arrow finds its mark in Daniel, but while Lana longs for romance, she knows there’s no prince in her happy ever after. If their story is to have a fairy-tale ending, Daniel will have to convince Lana to let down her walls—and, in the process, reveal what he fears sharing the most.
Are you ready to see the gorgeous new cover created by Catt Ford?
Catt Ford lives behind the orange curtain in southern California with a partner and two familiars in the form of cats whose fur is as black as their evil little hearts. She is a graphic artist by day and a storyteller by inclination. Catt enjoys the research required for writing a believable story. She is a rabid card-carrying fan of bull riding and also enjoys swing dancing. She gets drunk on words and sometimes over imbibes, but loves to write about love and happy endings.