Speak Its Name

Speak Its Name

Charlie Cochrane Erastes Lee Rowan

Price: $6.99


 Three stories, six men and for all of them, a love that dare not Speak Its Name.

Aftermath by Charlie Cochrane

The time: 1920. The place: Oxford University. Since arriving at the college in the autumn, Edward Easterby has admired, and desired, popular and dashing Hugo Lamont from afar, never believing he had a chance for friendship—or more—with the man. Edward uses a chance, unfortunate encounter as a moment for an apology and a tentative conversation. Hugo, wary and guarded from a previous, unsatisfying liaison, slowly lets his defences down and opens his heart to the budding relationship between them. Poetic and beautifully written, Aftermath will stay with you long after Edward and Hugo’s picnic basket has been packed away.

Gentleman’s Gentleman by Lee Rowan

Lord Robert Scoville seemingly has it all: good looks, intelligence, a successful military career, a title, and the most devoted manservant anyone could ask for in the form of Jack Darling. Jack would give his life for his lord and master but dares not breathe a word of the love he feels for the man, lest his advances be rejected. Then, a clandestine assignment, a train journey, and a double-crossing opens both their eyes to what exists between them. Against a backdrop of the Alps and Vienna, this intriguing story combines a satisfying blend of clever mystery along with the romance of a newly-discovered, mature love.

Hard and Fast by Erastes

Major Geoffrey Chaloner is back from the war, possessed of all his limbs but not a wife, a situation his father is determined to change. Demure but painfully shy Emily Pelham is presented as the potential bride-to-be. While Geoffrey finds her pleasant, he discovers he is far more intrigued with her moody and baffling cousin, Adam Heyward. In the midst of a proper courtship complete with hovering chaperones and parents, Adam manages to awaken feelings and emotions in Geoffrey that he never knew he possessed. Marked by Erastes’ signature writing style, this lyrical novella is laced with humor, magnificent descriptions, and a bit of a twist that leaves the reader satisfied but still wanting more.

PUBLISHED BY: Bristlecone Pine Press
ISBN: 978-1-60722-014-5
CATEGORIES: Historical, Action/Adventure, ManLove, Romantic Fiction
KEYWORDS: anthology, historical, gay, romance, England, Europe, short novels

EBOOKS BY Bristlecone Pine Press


COPYRIGHT Lee Rowan/2009

 Excerpt from Hard and Fast, by Erastes

Chapter One

In which I meet the young lady my father has meant for me and I deflect my father from spoiling his own endeavours.

There are certain things expected of a third son. That one will not put oneself forward, that one will join the army, or the church, or the bar. That one will not, in an attempt to inherit and whatever the provocation, murder one’s elder brothers and that one will, if at all possible in the circumstances of being a third son, marry well.

This is particularly important if one’s family is wealthy, (but not titled), and one’s brothers have married ladies who have increased the financial aspects of the line, but who have disappointed one’s father in being, like him, rich but ignobly born. One is taught that one does not talk of the origin of such income. One’s ancestors may have their portraits on painted walls and may well have been forced by circumstances to work for their subsistence but that same shameful toil enables their grandsons and further scions to live in comfort without ever having to mention such endeavours.

One is taught, from the nursery and all through one’s schooldays, that one should be a gentleman above all things. To be a good shot, to honour one’s parents, to do well for the school and to be gallant to the fairer sex. One is schooled to deal kindly with staff, and otherwise with bullies and cads. One is equipped for life.

But I have never been taught what I should do if I fell in love with someone of a sex that was not, as I expected it would be, opposite to my own.

To say that I was shaken to discover this about myself, would be an understatement in the same vein as were I to airily state that the Taj Mahal was an attractive mausoleum or that Switzerland was a trifle undulating. The sight of a curving cheek, a chestnut curl, a well turned ankle and a trim waist, these are all things that I expected to wake the first stirrings of Eros, and indeed they did; it is just that I did not think they would come from such a wholly unexpected direction.

You might, were I so injudicious to write this account down, raise an eyebrow, your quizzing glass and your voice. You might order me out of the club—blacken my name and drive me out of England and on to the continent—or you might ask me how this came to be. But would I answer you?

I might.


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