RELEASE TOUR - Maybe by Fearne Hill
Length: 82,000 words
Series: Mis-shapes #1
Prior Reading: n/a
Genre: contemporary
Tropes: adopted brothers, hurt-comfort, single dad, mental health, rich-poor
Trigger/Content Warnings: Grief for a parent, past mental health issues, an emotionally abusive parent (in the past), a short description of a cot death
Designer: Black Jazz Designs
https://geni.us/MaybeTour
Learn to fly. Fly away.
Isaac: After one quarrel too many with our wealthy father, my eighteen-year-old brother, Ezra Fitz-Henry, does exactly that. He flies away, leaving me behind to play the part of the perfect and dutiful son. When our cold, heartless father dies a decade later, Ezra strolls back into my life—as difficult and secretive as he is beautiful. I’m not prepared. You’re not supposed to want the one you can’t have.
Ezra: I only go back for the money. I have a three-point plan: take what’s mine, use it to escape my lousy flat, and never have anything to do with the Fitz-Henrys ever again. But that’s before I see Isaac, with his solemn frowns and disapproving lips—the best of things and the worst of things. My friend. My enemy. My sinful fantasy.
My younger brother.
Maybe is a standalone M/M romance featuring a relationship between adopted brothers.
EXCERPT:
Gerald and I were seated at an outside table under a heat lamp literally sucking the ozone from the planet. A busker was somewhere not very far away, telling me, through the medium of song and in a pleasing, sexy tenor, to let go of my heart and my head and I’d reach Babylon. Frankly, that felt tempting as fuck while receiving the full force of Gerald’s analysis of a novel I never had any intention of purchasing. “The audacity of the narrative techniques in Seven Moons I think is what clinched it for the judges. Karunatilaka managed to somehow combine a metaphysical thriller with a deep humanity, which I think Bell tried and didn’t quite pull off, especially in… You’ve not listened to a word I’ve said, have you?”
Gerald’s less pleasing, slightly nasal bass cut through my Babylonian fantasies.
“Um… some of it? You lost me slightly. Busy few days, you know.”
He frowned. “You do understand what professional dating apps are for, don’t you, Isaac? You know, meeting like-minded souls, deciding if you could be compatible? Your profile said you enjoyed films and books. I made it very clear I wasn’t interested in random sex or time wasters.”
The busker’s song came to an end, receiving a muted round of applause from the café next to ours. I regretted not choosing that one now; it was closer, and he was good. I’d have been happy to listen to him all afternoon instead of…
“Hello, earth to Isaac?”
Christ, Gerald was still here, nibbling on a nail bitten down beyond the quick. “I’m not a time waster.” I steered well clear of the random sex comment. “Honestly, you, ah… I intended to read it and…”
“I mean, are you actually even gay or simply looking for someone to hang out with occasionally? Tormenting me for the hell of it? Because if you are one of those men who does this for shits and giggles, tell me now. I fell for one of those. He kept me on the hook for six months and I ended up with a prescription for Zoloft. I’m not falling for it again.”
People did this for giggles? “Of course I’m gay, and I’ve never tormented anyone in my life.” I hadn’t giggled for approximately ten years either, and it may have been the first time I actually admitted I was gay out loud to someone other than the staff at the sexual health clinic and my reflection in the mirror.
A large party of Italian tourists vacated the three tables next to ours, reducing the ambient noise levels sufficiently to hear the busker softly strumming, tuning up his guitar. A screech of amp feedback split the momentary quiet, treating us all to a powerful, sonic slap around the head. Yet nowhere near as powerful as the familiar opening chords of the Tom Petty hit the busker plucked out as he carried on adjusting the amp. Ezra used to practise that one for hours. For a bittersweet second, I was transported back in time.
However, when the busker opened his mouth to introduce his upcoming Tom Petty song, time skidded back into the present and crashed to a halt.
about the author:
"Fearne Hill resides far from the madding crowds in the county of Dorset, deep in the British countryside. She likes it that way.
She is a two times Lambda Literary finalist: Two Tribes in 2023 and Oyster in 2025."
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https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/19829861.Fearne_Hill
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