Book Blast: Fate by Rob Rosen #pridepromotions #mmromance

Book title: Fate
Author: Rob Rosen

Eddie is in love. The problem is, Eddie's in love with four men... four men simultaneously, that is. But who does Eddie love more? And can the heart feel for that many men equally? Ah, but it does have four chambers, so four seems the most logical choice... at least, of course, to Eddie. 

Paula is Eddie's famous mom. One by one, each of his lovers comes to work for her, their lives so connected that if one of them itches, another one scratches. But who will wind up with whom in this comedic tale of life and love and friendship? In the end, it's up to fate to decide what none of them could possibly have seen coming.

"All the perfect kisses, love and laughter, sex and happily-ever-afters of a great romance novel, times four." -- Martha Davis, author of Dirty

"Fate asks provocative questions about the nature, and capacity, of love. A thought-provoking, tears-and-laughter gem that deserves a look!" -- Rick R. Reed, award-winning author of Dinner at Home and Blink

"Don't even try to resist diving head first into Rob Rosen's latest novel, a witty, wonderful ride through the chaos of friendship and family. 'Gayer than Oprah,' as his protagonist quips, Fate is ripe with fearless joy as only Rosen can write it." -- Salome Wilde, editor of Shakespearotica: Queering the Bard

"Sensitive, touching and often uproariously funny, with a style that makes it feel like an American Notting Hill, Fate keeps you guessing and introduces a fresh, quirky set of characters." -- Riley Shepherd, author of The Last Paltry Drops and The Boy He Left Behind

"As fate would have it, Rob Rosen has written another screamingly funny novel exploring the foibles of gay romance." -- Jonathan Asche, author of Kept Men and Other Stories

 Then the lights went down and the music started and…there was Jay! Wait, scrub that. THERE WAS JAY LENO! In the flesh. Sure, he was pretty far away, but on the studio monitor he was close up. Ironic, because I could’ve just stayed at home and seen the same thing. Still, here he directly addressed the audience. At home, not really, not like this. I mean he was looking, pardon the expression, straight at me! Or maybe at Trevor. Or Aunt Caroline. But definitely in our general vicinity.
“Weird,” whispered Brian.
“Weird,” I agreed.
“The camera adds twenty pounds to his chin,” added Grandma from behind. I laughed. Guess the apple didn’t fall too far from the tree, Ma being the Red Delicious.
After the monologue, which again was sort of drab and on the vanilla side, especially when you were accustomed to Ma, Jay sat at his desk and did some standard Jay stuff in his standard Jay nasal twang, and then the curtain parted from the side and out popped Katie.
“She’s so tiny,” Aaron said from two seats over.
Again I nodded. “All the stars are. The big ones don’t fit inside their trailers.” Everyone nodded, even the strangers in front of us.
Katie was now yammering on about some new project of hers, but I had a hard time concentrating. Ma was going to be on in less than an hour. My Ma! On the friggin’ Tonight Show! Sure, Leno was no Carson, but beggars couldn’t be choosers. Then Katie was done and there was Sean.
“He’s shorter, too,” whispered Aaron.
Again I nodded. “Madonna probably wouldn’t have married anyone too tall. Then the cameras would’ve focused on him.”
“As if,” said Brian, reverently.
Again, I had a difficult time concentrating on Sean. Ma was on next, after all. Ma was the closer. Sean Penn was Ma’s opening act. I had a feeling that statement would be repeated for years to come. Mostly by Ma.
Trevor reached over and held my hand. “I’m so nervous.”
“Ditto,” I said. “Imagine what Ma must be going through.”
Dad tapped me on the shoulder. “Ma’s been drinking since breakfast. Ma is feeling no pain whatsoever. Ma is probably talking Katie Couric’s ear off even as we speak.”
“Probably trying to land a segment on 60 Minutes or CBS Evening News,” I added, knowingly.
“Probably,” agreed my grandma. “Or asking if Matt Lauer is a prick in real life.”
I held back a laugh. “Sounds like Ma.”
And then Sean was gone and the cameras were back on Jay. Honestly, if I was breathing at the time, there were no signs of it. Despite the cool air blowing down on us, beads of sweat were trickling down my face. I squeezed Trevor’s hand. He squeezed mine in return. Brian pressed his knee to mine. Astoundingly, my dick stayed still. I suppose it was as nervous as the rest of me.
“Ladies and gentlemen,” Jay then shouted, still nasally, “please welcome to the stage for her very first television appearance, the very funny, Paula Jackson!”
I gasped. Jay Leno just nasally shouted my mom’s name to the entire country! Or at least to a few million DVRs and VCRs.
Ma walked out smiling, sure and steady. She looked beautiful, radiant, at home. Then she started her routine. Most of it was what we’d practiced. The rest was about me. Again I gasped.
Brian leaned over and whispered in my ear, “Your closet door will never be the same.”
My mouth remained in gasp mode. “She’s blowing the fucking hinges off.”
Grandma smacked my head. “Language.”
And I realized that Ma was also outing me to my family, to our neighbors, to everyone I’d gone to high school with, everyone I went to college with. Everyone. Wait, better—or worse—still, EVERYONE! Or at least anyone who didn’t watch Letterman or Conan.
The audience laughed. I ducked down in my seat. My friends laughed. I prayed for a meteor to hit Burbank. My family raucously applauded. I planned on ways of slowly torturing Ma, starting with locking her TV on Fox News and substituting her vodka with flat Sprite.
Her three minutes, which felt more like three hours, finally came to an end. Jay ran over and gave Ma a hug. “Ladies and gentlemen, Paula Jackson!”
The audience cheered, friends and family the loudest. Me, I was in shock. Me, I was in a coma. Me, I definitely peed myself. “Should’ve bought the Depends,” I whispered, my voice drowned out by the crowd.
Said crowd began to disperse. I was frozen to the spot. “Eddie,” Trevor said, shaking my arm. “Come on, time to go backstage.”
I looked up at him. “Huh?”
“Backstage. To see your mom.” He said it slowly. Or perhaps that’s just the way I heard it. In fact, the whole world was going in slow motion now.
Dad hit me from behind. “Snap out of it. Your mom was amazing.”
I forced a smile. “Amazing,” I said. “Let’s go tell her how amazing she was.” Because I sure as hell was amazed.

Words: 262 pages, 75,00 words

Buy the book:

Meet the author:
Rob Rosen (www.therobrosen.com) is the author of the critically acclaimed novels, Sparkle: The Queerest Book You'll Ever Love, the Lambda Literary Award Nominated Divas Las Vegas, which was the winner of the 2010 TLA Gaybies for Best Gay Fiction, Hot Lava, Southern Fried, the Lambda Literary Award Nominated Queerwolf, Vamp, Queens of the Apocalypse, Creature Comfort and the Lambda Literary nominated Fate. His short stories have appeared in more than 200 anthologies. You can find 20 of them in his erotic romance anthology, Good & Hot. He is also the editor of Lust in Time: Erotic Romance Through the Ages, Men of the Manor, Best Gay Erotica 2015 and Best Gay Erotica of the Year, Volume 1.

Where to find the author:

Publisher: MLR Press
Cover Artist: Melody Pond

Tour Stops:

Rafflecopter Prize: PDF copy of ‘Fate’ by Rob Rosen
Rafflecopter Code:

Notes from Pride Promotions:
Tour dates: January 8, 2016


Of Newsletters, Licking Things, and Togetherness #writestuff #caffeinateme

Good morning friends! *sips coffee* Welcome to my humble abode online. Ooh… maybe this coffee is a little too strong. LOL. Just a quick reminder today that there are many ways to keep "in the know" with my projects and goings ons.

If you're the type of person who likes interaction, spur of the moment madness and let's face it… funny internet memes with cats… then you might consider joining the face group I share with my friend and coauthor, Havan Fellows. You can find all that mayhem HERE

If you just want an email in your inbox when there's a new release then we have something for that, too. Sign up for the newsletter HERE. I promise, you'll only get a newsletter when there's a new release.

Then there's the blog, where we are now. It's not necessarily always a hopping place to be, but it's one of my professional goals this year to keep it up to date and in service. So I'd appreciate the company if you want to hang around.

And now, it's time to get to work on that new release I was talking about above. As always, thanks for joining me. Here's a little sunshine for your day. I'm off to put some words on the page and finish off that pot of coffee. Can you hear? It's whispering my name…


Happily Ever After, USA Today, Heart on the Run & Chirstmas in His Heart News

Bouncing... absolutely bouncing- cautiously mind you so as not to spill the coffee, because that would be bad- but bouncing nonetheless. Just logged into FaceBook and found that the ever delightful Becky Condit had added both Christmas in His Heart and Heart on the Run to the USA Today Happily Ever After Must Read Romances of 2015 list.

This is an incredible honor and Havan and I are both thrilled!

"This is a great pair of books to read for the holidays. Both will soothe your holiday romantic soul. "

You can read Becky's entire list at 

What about you? What are your favorite books you read in 2015?


Story Orgy Presents: This Is Not About #mmromance #storyorgy #blogstory

Welcome back to Story Orgy Monday! Got your coffee? Ready to meet some sexy new men? Read on!

January 4, 2016
“This is not about”

Studying the Wiley Coyote-esque diagram he’d sketched on his napkin while waiting for his dinner to arrive, Drake Arthur concluded that something was missing from the elaborate Rube Goldberg trap. Glue. Buckets of it. Drums of it. That’s what he needed. Drake nodded his head decisively. Where to find it? How to haul it? He began sketching barrels of glue in.

“Drake?” Mick Stone’s impatient voice made it clear it wasn’t the first time he’d attempted to gain Drake’s attention.

“Huh?” His head snapped up and he caught Mick’s concerned stare. “What?”

“We don’t have to stay here,” Mick offered, nodding sympathetically toward the bar, where Drake had studiously avoided glaring since they’d entered their local neighborhood bar and grill some thirty minutes earlier. More specifically, he indicated a couple of men who had been holding down that bar. The first man was a stranger to Drake, a tall slender blond who appeared to think it cool to shave his head on the sides and leave a dramatic sweep of hair on top. That man smiled too much, laughed too loud and was way too touchy with his hands and his body, constantly leaning on, nudging, or petting the shorter man next to him. Drake hated him on sight. His slick appearance and hip clothing grated on Drake’s nerves.
But the trap… it wasn’t designed for that man. No the trap was for his companion. A small, dark haired, pale little man with elegant features, overlong hair and a propensity for overdoing the eyeliner. Sean.

Yeah. The glue was for him. His fingers moved… sketching Sean into the diagram, flat on his butt on the floor, a drum of glue poised over him, spilling out in a wave.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about. We already ordered.” Stubborn. That was him. All his life people had been shaking their heads, clicking their tongues and telling Drake Arthur that he was stubborn. He’d always laughed them off, told people he was determined, persistent, a hundred things that were less negative. That character trait had stood him in good stead, gotten him through high school with honors, the same in college. It had landed him a dream job with a fabulous company and a place on the career fast track.

But sitting here watching his ex-lover play kissy face and flirt with some tall drink of water with ash blonde hair… he kind of wished he’d been oh… intelligent...resourceful...charming.... Maybe then… “I still love him.” He sighed, thunking his head on the table and avoiding Mick’s sympathy. The napkin fluttered to the ground. Drake made a half hearted effort to reach for it, but missed.

“Don’t be an ass.”

Sympathy? What the hell was he thinking? His head shot up and he stoked the spark of annoyance into a flame. “Have a little sympathy, man. My ex has moved on, and he’s rubbing my nose in it.”

Mick scowled at the bar then turned the dark look on Drake. “This is not about that. It’s been over a year. Quit moping around acting like an idiot.”

“I'm not moping.” Drake stiffened, flicking a glance at the bar, where Sean’s date was flipping some raggedy hank of hair out of his eyes and smiling in a smarmy way that indicated all too clearly… as though his wandering hands left any doubts…. what he was up to. “That guy is a snake. A user… all he wants is to get laid. Sean deserves better than that.”

“Fuck.” Mick grabbed his highball glass and gulped the remainder of the whiskey in it. He spluttered, eyes watering and thumped the glass back on the table. “This is not about what Sean deserves. It’s about you, you stubborn fucking asshole. It’s about what you deserve. And that is not to live in the past hankering after some guy who was never fucking going to stay.”

Mick shoved his chair back and dug in his pocket.

Drake sat, frozen into silence, heart thumping loudly in his ears, heat burning his cheeks and the nape of his neck. Without looking, he knew they were the center of everyone’s attention. The diners, the drinkers, the meager staff, Mick knew how to make a scene. Drake just sat there as Mick threw a crumpled bill on the table and stalked off.

Finally he drew in a breath and released it, finally he shook off the embarrassment and sipped his own water, staring determinedly at the salt and pepper shakers and a green card announcing that it was National Margarita Day next Wednesday.  

“He’s right you know.” The voice cut like a knife, stabbed him clean to the heart and left him bleeding.

He glanced up in time to see Sean strolling away from the table, one arm wrapped around the blond’s waist.

If you enjoyed my post, click on over to the rest of the Orgiasts and read more! 


Four Thousand, Update, Thank you, #pridepromotions #writestuff #caffeinateme

Good morning friends and readers! *sips coffee* *hums* Mm that's good stuff.
The Heart on the Run blog tour with Pride Promotions has ended. I'd like to take a moment here to thank Will and Paul at Pride, all the wonderful bloggers, and my co-author Havan Fellows for a wonderful tour experience.

Most off all, I'd like to thank all of you readers who stopped by, commented, and entered the drawing. We've had nearly 4000… yes, FOUR THOUSAND contest entries, and we are stunned and amazed, and so grateful for the support.

The contest is accepting entries until January 9th, so we'll be announcing a winner after that. Meanwhile, it's not too late to click over and enjoy the fun.

Many Thanks to The Below Listed for Making this a GREAT experience!
Will and Paul at Pride Promotions
V's Reads, Cathy Brockman Romances

And remember it's not too late to enter the drawing!
Rafflecopter Prize: Kindle Fire with books from Havan Fellows & Lee Brazil

Be Yourself

To be nobody but yourself in a world which is doing its best, night and day, to make you everybody else means to fight the hardest battle which any human being can fight; and never stop fighting. ~e.e. cummings, 1955