Arriving at Love’s Door

Book Cover: Arriving at Love's Door
Editions:ePub, Kindle, PDF

Will reconnecting after more than a decade apart rekindle their love? Or will they not like each other at all?

Unexpectedly, two-year college English instructor Joseph Rutledge gets a letter from Quentin Richards, the boy who sat in front of him at a charity school for wayward boys. Joe vividly remembers Quentin comforting him in fifth grade during an unprecedented earthquake. What could have been a lasting friendship with the boy he loved dissolved under Joe’s inherent shyness.

Little does he know Quentin too remembers the traumatic day of the earthquake and has relied on his memories of Joe’s comfort to buoy him during rough times. After recovering from a debilitating incident at the Olympics, Quentin’s keen to get together with Joe and writes to ask him out.

Will their memories of each other be enough to spark a relationship? Or do they each remember a person who never really existed?

Excerpt:
    • Twelve months later, the dreaded annual performance review weekend of looking back at the past year and forward to the next one began Friday night with a welcome dinner. The Mogrovejo and Paredes Counties Community College Consortium managed seven two-year colleges in a predominantly rural area in the Northwest United States.

 

    • Since I graduated from college, I’ve taught English composition at two of the colleges and probably would until I retired.

 

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    • Attending the yearly recap, team building, and planning for the future was required for department heads such as myself. It was an extremely boring two days for those of us who’d been-there, done-that for the past eight years. Same people, same problems, no additional funds, no real hope for the future except for incentives the individual instructors could give their students.

 

    • At least the new area casino which was sponsoring this year’s symposium offered more entertainment than listening to my fellow instructors bitch and moan during the session breaks.

 

    • We had convened in the hotel foyer and had been milling around, talking about the casino and by-passing discussions of the recession year and the consequential budget shortfalls. A call to dinner had galvanized us into a booze-fueled crowd ready for food.

 

    • Following behind a group of others who were chattering away, I was stopped at the door to the dining room.

 

    • “Dr. Joseph Rutledge?”

 

    • Although I never got my PhD and am not a doctor, I nodded and stepped out of the way of the crowd which was moving toward the white-clothed tables and uncomfortable-looking chairs.

 

    • “I’m here to escort you to your seat at the head table.” He pointed at the stage.

 

    • “Oh, uh, no. There must be a mistake. Um, I’m not speaking or presenting or anything. I’m not even a PhD, a doctor. I think maybe you should check your records.”

 

    • When he looked down at the paper in his hand, I melted into the crowd and found a seat next to an English instructor from another college.

 

    • The scuttlebutt around my table was the Consortium had scored a coup by landing a well-known athlete to head up a new, revolutionary regional sports medicine program.

 

    • The women at the table were excited because according to rumor, even though the new program director was a man, he was an advocate for women athletes and their education as well.

 

    • Finally, the hall doors closed and the lights dimmed, signaling everyone had made it to the ballroom and was to be seated. The casino had opted to serve us. No plodding buffet lines this year. But as we settled down, no waiters hustled into the room with trays of food. Instead, the PA system clicked on and a shrill screech assaulted us.

 

    • “Ladies and gentlemen, may I have your attention?” As if the noise hadn’t already made us sit up and react. “Will Doctor ...” the sound of a hand covering a microphone, “Will Mr. Joseph Rutledge please come forward to the stage? Mr. Joseph Rutledge?”

 

    • Reluctantly, I rose as everyone looked around for the mysterious Mr. Rutledge.

 

    • “Joe! What in God’s name ...?” my fellow instructor started to ask.

 

    • I shook my head in bewilderment.

 

    “I have no idea.”

 

COLLAPSE

Bright, Shiny Love

Metal artist Martin Murphy knows dragons don’t talk, especially the dragon crafted of sequins on a former flame’s vest. So when the dragon seems to reach out and tells him to help its creator Ty, Marty refuses to believe the illusion. The sparks between him and Ty, on the other hand? They’re as real as it gets.

As he and Ty reconnect after so many years, Marty sees firsthand how the big man’s innate kindness and willingness to help others consume his time and energy. Maybe the dragon was right, and Ty needs saving.

While Marty is willing to try, what he really wants to do is pounce on the man and keep him all to himself while they walk down the path to HEA. Does that count as saving him?

Excerpt:

“You know what I liked best about the play?” I asked Ty.

We were at Luca’s, a tiny family-owned Italian restaurant. Luca’s is one of those Bay Area eateries with no fixed hours. It’s open until it’s not. This meant diners dropping by the place could get a meal most nights unless the Luca family had an emergency and the doors were locked.

One of Luca’s big plusses is everyone who worked there was always happy to prepare a meal for friends. To them, every customer is a friend.

“I don’t know. What did you like best about the play?” Ty’s eyes lit with mischief. “That you didn’t have to sit through it more than once?”

“Ha, ha,” I scoffed. “No, I’m serious here. I loved the illusion with the dragon.”

At his questioning look, I expanded my comment, “When your character turned away to get R and J the poison.”

“R and J,” he laughed. “Sounds like a tobacco company!”

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Then he smiled. Lines of exhaustion framed his eyes. But he seemed to relax and be less tense as we talked.

“Yeah, I’m glad you liked it, Marty. I was hoping the light would catch the sequins just right. Make the dragon head leap out and look menacing as a comment on their buying poison.”

Although we hadn’t ordered it, a plate of appetizers appeared on the table.

“For you gentlemen while we prepare your meal.” The waiter winked at us and ran his hand under Ty’s hair along his shoulder.

“Hey, thanks, man.” Ty touched his hand and nodded. The waiter strutted back to the kitchen.

“Ricardo,” Ty said to me with a nod in the guy’s direction. “He likes too think of himself as a player even though he’s pretty much bonded at the ... hip ... with Wayne. He thinks I’m pining after him. I play along. Doesn’t hurt anybody. Makes Ric feel like a stud, though.”

He popped a piece of ham-covered toast in his mouth, chewed, swallowed, and sighed. I followed his lead, without the outward sigh.

“Anyway, I’m glad you like the dragon illusion,” he added after a gulp of his wine.

“Well, not exactly what I meant. Don’t get me wrong. The dragon reveal was great. No, I meant the bit afterward when its head reached out over the audience and talked to us. Now that illusion was really special.”

He stared at me a moment and then wiped his lips with his napkin and brushed off his beard.

“What do you mean? I don’t get it. The dragon spoke to the audience? What did it say?”

I stopped munching.

“You don’t know? How could you not? The dragon’s head went from the back of your vest out into the audience and said something like, take care of him or keep him safe or something like that. Then it said or he will die.”

Ty tilted his head as he stared at me. Did he think I was making this up? He had to be teasing me.

Finally, he shook his head and resumed clearing out the hors d'oeuvres. The empty plate was taken away and our entrees appeared.

Before he dug in, he looked at me for a few seconds. Then he shook his head and grinned.

“Wish I had thought of it and how to do it, Marty. Would have been cool. But, no, I didn’t. I don’t think any of the others working on the show did either. Your CBDs are playing tricks on you.”

He dismissed it so casually, I was stunned. It hadn’t been a part of the play? Then what was it? A bit of theatrical craziness on my part? An hallucination? How unsettling.

But now wasn’t the time to unravel what I’d seen. I’d have to think about the vision later. Ty and I were together again. Why waste the time with idiotic speculation?

COLLAPSE
Reviews:Scott on Queeromance Ink wrote:

I am thrilled to see Pat Henshaw tackling a new series of magical realism romance novellas featuring unlikely pairings. It’s set in the San Francisco Bay Area, in the art scene.

The first one, Fragile as Glass, was between Ashton and Hunter, a glass artist and a rockstar. That unlikely pairing worked out really well in the end. Hey, it is a romance! Ashton had a gift – when he touched pieces of crafted glass, he could see their future.

In Bright Shiny Love, it’s Tyson who has the gift – his ability to make his sequin art come to life.

Marty, whom his mother calls “delicate,” starts out recounting the time in high school when he was crushing on another boy. A really tall, robust boy, whose family had absolutely no use for art in their lives. Fast forward to the present day, when an older Marty finds out his old friend Ty is doing the costuming and art for a play that’s a retelling of Romeo and Juliet, only gay.

They get lunch together, but Marty’s rosy memories of the past are tempered when they smash into the reality of Ty’s current life, and how much his step-family relies on him, making everything into an emergency and demanding far too much of the gentle giant’s time, with very little thanks.

Marty has to learn to step out of his own shadow to help Ty out of his. I love the allusions to fantasy throughout the peace, and the troubles they have to get through together in order to find their happily ever after.

Bright Shiny Love follows the normal romance beats – meet, fall in love, break-up, make-up – but it’s a cute, quirky little tale of unexpected love between two people who are very different, and yet clearly meant for each other.

A great addition to Henshaw’s new series – a perfect short light read.


Love Is Free

Book Cover: Love Is Free
Editions:ePub

It’s hard to believe we have entered the year 2025 with so many of our civil liberties, which we fought so hard to achieve, now on the cusp of being taken away.

The political scene in the United States, as well as in many other countries, has become more polarized in recent years. In the aftermath of the US 2024 presidential election, many of us have found it difficult to express our fears and concerns. Regardless of nationality, the authors of JMS Books sought an outlet for their emotions; thus, this anthology of short stories was created.

Love Is Free celebrates queer love in all its forms, proving love can survive despite adversity. Whether a quiet night in or a loud night out, in this world or another, in the past, present, or future, this collection embraces how enduring same sex love can be, in any and every shade under the LGBTQIA umbrella.

Featuring never before published work from 52 authors, Love Is Free is a collaborative effort whose entire proceeds will go to the American Civil Liberties Union (ACLU) to help with their work protecting the freedoms of all people in the US. All the work in the collection, including the editing, has been donated. This stunning anthology will be a charitable keepsake whose message of love regardless of gender will endure beyond the current political strife threatening to tear us apart.

Authors included in this anthology are: Adam Carpenter, Alexandra Caluen, Amy Spector, Anne Russo, Becky Black, Carol Holland March, Charles Payseur, D.J. Fronimos and Elke Lakey, David Connor and E.F. Mulder, Dianne Hartsock, Drew Hunt, E.M. Schenker, Ellie Thomas, Emery C. Walters, Eule Grey, Feral Sephrian, Gareth Vaughn, Gordon Phillips, Hannah Morse, Holly Day, J.D. Walker, J.M. Snyder, J.T. Marie, Jordan Demaine, Justin James, K.L. Noone, K.S. Murphy, Katey Hawthorne, Kim Davis, Kris T. Bethke, La Toya Hankins, Mere Rain, Michael P. Thomas, Mychael Black, Nell Iris, Ofelia Gränd, Pat Henshaw, Patrick Bryce Wright, Pelaam, Rafe Jadison, Ray Hatch, Red Haircrow, Sarah Hadley Brook, Scarlet Blackwell, Sean Cunningham, Shawn Bailey, Shawn Lane, T.J. Blackley, T.K. Dane, Teal H.S. Fields, Vivien Dean, and Warren Rochelle.

Published:
Cover Artists:
Excerpt:

Love, Step by Step

Book Cover: Love, Step by Step
Editions:ePub

Peter Lamont and Mark Trainor met as freshman in college. They separated to go to different law schools, but promised if, when they turned thirty, they weren’t attached or married, they would get back together again. Over the years, they met up time and again, keeping their friendship alive and well.

Recently, Peter turned thirty. Now for Mark’s thirtieth, Peter has planned a progressive dinner at the restaurants on the refurbished pier. Will the lovely sunset, twinkling lights, and excellent food set the scene for their reunion? Or will one of them decide to renege on the promise?

Excerpt:
    • “Our second step back in time leads to the Good Samaritan Shelter.” Peter gestured to Soup It Up Café as Mark groaned.

 

    • A waiter wearing an apron with an oversized logo seated them. They were surrounded by a country kitchen themed space with red and white checkered tablecloths, pottery dinnerware, recycled wood walls, and dried herbs hanging in bundles overhead. It was much busier her than at Mama Mia’s. But then, it was now early dinner hour.

 

    • Although the Soup It Up décor wasn’t like Good Samaritan’s food kitchen and shelter, the crowded tables and jostling crowd were. Unlike Good Samaritan’s these diners weren’t smelly men and occasional women off the streets who stood in line to eat each evening. This place reeked of family.

 

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    • “Hey, I was going through my do-gooder phase,” Mark protested. “Because of you, I might add.”

 

    • “Your grudging, complaining, growling do-gooder moment I think you mean,” Peter added. “You showed up, what? Three times. The first time after a day of drinking when you could barely stand and called me to come bail you out.”

 

    • Even though Soup It Up wanted to be upscale and trendy with its kitchen antiques and deliberate homey smell, the noise level screamed big, vocal family at the holidays. There might have been ambient music, but no one could hear it.

 

    • Peter and Mark huddled closer together so they could talk and hear each other.

 

    • “Hey, I was trying,” Mark protested. “Besides, my bad mood and drinking were all your fault. That morning, I’d been to see the shrink you convinced me to visit. A shrink who ‘drilled down’ into my unhappiness at getting dumped a second time by my scumbag boyfriend. I was drowning my sorrows, including my shitty taste in men and my incredible stupidity in thinking a man who cheated once wouldn’t actually do it again.”

 

    • Mark grimaced. “I know, I know. You warned me not to take him back. And I got mad at you. Sorry to have been such a loser friend.”

 

    • Peter held up his hands in a defensive gesture as they were served the soup of the day. The herbs hanging from the hooks overhead might be decoration, but by the delicious smell, they could tell the chef used them well in his creations.

 

    • “Not a loser. Eternally hopeful. Eat up. This looks delicious.”

 

    • Both men tucked in as if they hadn’t had canapes a few moments before.

 

    • “I might remind you, you agreed to see the shrink, Mark. And, you told me you felt better afterward.” Then Peter grinned, his trademark dimples and twinkly eyes making Mark feel as if he wasn’t being blamed or shamed. “Well, at least you told me you felt better after I came to your rescue at the soup kitchen. You even said the experience with your ex and with the shrink had made you want to give back to the community. So you decided to help out on the serving line at the shelter.”

 

    • Mark sighed.

 

    • “Yeah, okay, I know you think I’m a quitter and a loser.” He held up a hand to stop Peter from speaking. “Not your turn to talk now, okay?”

 

    • At Peter’s nod, Mark continued, his voice empty.

 

    • “I just hadn’t found the right way to help others. My way to help. Standing in a serving line and watching man after man walk by getting a bowl of soup, roll, butter, and drink didn’t make me feel like I was really helping. All it did was remind me over and over that there but for the grace of God go I.”

 

    • They ate in silence for a few minutes.

 

    • “My turn to talk now?” Peter asked.

 

    • Mark dunked his roll into the broth.

 

    “Yeah, I guess.”

 

COLLAPSE

Fragile as Glass

A scrying stone says after his gift is destroyed, a famous songwriter will fall in love. Will the stone’s prediction come true?

Glass artist Ashton Snell is delighted when superstar singer/songwriter Hunter Davidson walks into his shop looking for a gift for a friend. On a whim Ashton looks through a scrying glass to see what’s in store for Hunter in the future. The stone shows a vision of the glass unicorn gift shattering and Hunter falling in love. Should Ashton tell Hunter what he’s seen?

Before he can decide, Hunter asks him to lunch. Ashton agrees although he’s surprised someone as celebrated as Hunter would want to be seen with him. Despite living with it since birth, Ashton is still self-conscious about his limp. Hunter, however, doesn’t seem to notice it.

Could their lunch be the beginning of a lasting friendship? Or will their attraction turn into something more?

Excerpt:
    • I handed him the bag. He put his hand over mine for a few seconds, long enough to make me shiver and wish I was someone else. Someone who could attract a man like him.
    • “When do you take off for lunch?” he asked abruptly.
    • The question was as surreal as the entire encounter had been. I shook myself.
    • Since it was a few minutes past twelve, I had planned to close the shop and eat after he left. The sign at the door said the shop was closed from noon to one, which was mostly true. I was a little nonplussed about his question and what I should answer.
    • “No, wait. That’s not what I wanted to ask.” He ran a hand through his hair. “Would you go out to lunch with me? Now? Today?”
    • He looked pleased with himself, which was funny because he was a well-known celebrity, one of those performers who people recognized even if they couldn’t remember his name. I was flattered. And flustered. No, a thousand times no. But wait. Why not? I couldn’t come up with an answer. This was a once in a lifetime chance.
    • “Uh, yeah, sure.” I tried to keep my internalizing hidden. Between my clamoring thoughts and pounding heart, I wasn't sure I could. “I just need to lock up since I’m the only one here until later.”
    • “Great.” He beamed like I’d done something to make him extraordinarily happy.
    • As I turned off lights and made sure the shop was secured, he strolled around the displays again. The first time, he’d seemed intent and focused on finding the perfect gift. This time, his fingers tapped lightly against the sales bag as if he were drumming to a song only he heard.
    • Without his stage makeup, he looked like an ordinary customer, which startled me. Weren’t superstars a breed apart? His status as an icon was slipping. I was enchanted by the change.
    • His onstage signature curly, floppy, brilliant red hair was now cropped short and looked almost mouse brown in the low light of the shop. Without eyeliner, his face was ordinary, unremarkable. His jeans, T-shirt, and blazer, all in shades of blue, were the uniform of men over thirty. No wonder he hadn’t been followed and had no entourage. He looked like a lot of the guys walking around the city.
    • When I finished closing up and moved to the front door, he hurried over to me.
    • “Where to?” he asked. “I’m not familiar with this part of the city. Let’s go somewhere not too public, if it’s all right with you. I’d like to talk. Trade ideas.”
    • Trade ideas? What did I know about music or songwriting? This promised to be a really short conversation.
    • “Sure. No problem,” I said as I locked up and pocketed the keys. “Arnold’s is a couple blocks away. I think you’ll like it.”
    • Arnold was the Americanized version of the Greek chef’s name. He and my grandfather were about the same age and best friends. My father and his son, another Arnold, were their tagalongs.
    • My mother was appalled by the elder Arnold because he constantly told her she was a disgrace. Why were the men in her family so skinny? Did she not feed them? She would stomp away while Arnold laughed.
    • “Your mother takes herself too seriously,” he’d tell me. “She should dance and sing more.”
    • Which was the other part of my mother’s disgust with Arnold. He, my grandfather, and my father would sit on the front porch of our house at night after he closed his tiny restaurant. There they’d drink ouzo, belt out folksongs, and challenge each other to perform fancy dance steps.
    • Mother threatened to call the police to quiet them with a warning, but she never did. Nor did the neighbors who could often be found watching and egging the men on.
    • Because he made me nervous, I told most of this to Hunter as we walked to Arnold’s. The story had no real point. As we neared the plain storefront with the plate glass window, my words slowed, then stopped. I was out of breath, trying to keep in step with him like a normal person.
    •  with a stylized depiction of applause -- clapping hands and arms waving -- under it.
      • I gestured to the elaborately written

    Arnold’s

    • “We’re here.” I was nearly panting.

 

COLLAPSE
Reviews:Sadonna on Love Bytes wrote:

This was an interesting story and went off in directions I didn’t anticipate. There are aspects of the story that were not really resolved, but that didn’t detract from the relationship that Ashton and Hunter are building. Yes, there are obstacles, especially with Ashton’s self-consciousness of his limp, but both men grow in their outlook here.

I don’t want to spoil the plot here, but let’s just say that things aren’t always as they appear, particularly for celebrities. Ashton is surprised that someone so famous would be interested in him at all. They go from friends to more as Hunter shares his real self – not the celebrity version – with Ashton.

Overall I enjoyed this story and the secondary characters were quite well drawn as well. In fact, I can see how their stories might be interesting too 😉 Ashton and Hunter may seem like very different people on the surface, but their artistry and personalities really do mesh. Once they get out of their own way a bit 🙂 Recommended. 4 Hearts

Fay on MM Bookworm Reviews wrote:

❤️ Awww I loved Aston and Hunter in this.
Aston 34, comes from a long line of glass artists with his shop selling to tourists and visitors.
When, well-known Hunter walks into his shop magic happens.
A gorgeous story of sand turning into glass and creating something beautiful for love.

Serena on Rainbow Book Reviews wrote:

This is a very cute, if somewhat angsty in places, story about two artists who feel a deep connection when they meet but don’t quite know what to do about it. Well, they sort of know what they want to do about it, but Ashton cannot believe anyone could love him and Hunter does not see how self-conscious Ashton is. Both need to learn to listen to their heart – and the other man – before anything more than friendship can develop.

Ashton is a talented glass artist, born into a family of successful glass artists and with a talent to “see the future” in what his family calls scrying stones they collect at the beach. When musical superstar Hunter first comes into the family store, Asher checks out Hunter’s future and what he sees, a gift destroyed, makes him assume all kinds of things that get in the way of him opening up to Hunter. That, and his belief that his limp will stand in the way of a relationship (like it has done before), mean he is more hesitant than he might be otherwise.

Hunter may be a famous musician, but he is looking for a human connection when he meets Ashton. He also makes a few assumptions, but his almost relentless interest in Ashton is stronger than what might get in the way of the two men getting to know each other.

I loved the descriptions of all the glass art in Ashton’s store, how each piece is unique, and how connected he is to his father and grandfather. Hunter “not seeing the problem” with Asher’s disability is as endearing as it is problematic – because there are things to watch out for that Hunter has to learn about.

If you like stories about artists who can be off in their own world but still want to have a real relationship, if misunderstandings at the beginning of a relationship are your thing, and if you are looking for a happy ending despite obstacles, then you will probably like this story.

Melanie M on Scattered Thoughts and Rogue Words wrote:

Rating: 4🌈

Fragile as Glass by Pat Henshaw is a wonderful, slightly mystical romance in JMS Books LLC’s Gay Advent Calendar this year.

Henshaw does such an excellent job in creating the character of glass artist Ashton Snell, complete with compelling history that explores and helps the reader really understand him, his personality, including his disability, and the slightly magical gift that he inherited from his grandfather. Ashton is so well written that he and this narrative need a longer story to completely dive into all the many elements and characters this author has created here.

The other main character is singer/rock star/songwriter Hunter who just isn’t as layered a character but has the ability to grow into something special. He’s intriguing but there’s so much to Ashton that anyone would be a lesser individual with this story. There’s not enough pages for equal development.

He comes with a good backstory, two side characters ( a bodyguard and his boyfriend , a chef) that I also wanted more of. Especially Gil, that bodyguard, because in a tv show or on stage, he’s what’s called a “scene stealer”. He’s that dynamic.

There’s also something fascinating going on, plot wise, that Henshaw pulls together here. After giving us an idea of the intriguing place where Ashton lives, a home turned compound that his grandfather started and has filled with artists. Ashton has two long time friends,fellow artists, and the author begins a storyline about a changing new dynamic between them, not a welcome one.

It’s a great plot. But that’s not what the story is about, and it has nowhere to go. It’s dropped. But I certainly was glued to this aspect of the story and it’s still there in my mind, going back over what the author might have done with more pages to really explore this aspect of Ashton’s life.

The romance between Ashton and Hunter is magical, quick, with a dramatic moment and then a sweet ending. That seems a bit rushed. But that is my preference for longer stories in general and this is in keeping with the spirit of the story.

Fragile as Glass by Pat Henshaw is a lovely story. It’s got so many interesting elements and well done characters that I wish it was twice its length or a prequel for more of this universe to come.

It’s another win for this author and the delightful press, JMS Books LLC. Check them out!