#arc: contemporary

[kulay-ng-banaag]

A Gentle Reminder

One visits the other to rekindle the light. (Indonesia/Philippines) Warnings: -anxiety attacks (mild at best but the buildup is there) -smoking -politics (one side more explicitly than the other) Read on AO3 (registered users only)

[ Photo from Pinterest; have not yet traced back the photographer. ]

☼ ☼ ☼

The sound of running water cuts off as he turns the faucet knob. Glassware, ceramic dishes, and steel utensils clanked together in the sink bowl. The atmosphere was filled with the revving of motorbikes, the rusty booms of the azan signaling the hour of Isha, and the lucid voices that beamed from the newscast playing on the TV.

Once he finished scrubbing the table and the counters clean, he popped open a bottle of milk tea and flopped down on the sofa. Even with his tito Bikol’s cooking, he had never developed as strong a spice tolerance as he would have liked. Neither had he developed a language proficiency on par with the locals, despite the many letters exchanged and visits conducted. At least not in the same capacity as he had hundreds of years ago, but even the lingua francas of old were as mutable as clay, and the living things molded out of it.

Like all other things, nations changed over time. Philippines was no stranger to that truth.

All he had to do was keep tabs on the news from the other side of the screen, observing the inevitable winds of change. Once he foresaw the calm before the storm, he quickly scraped together in the wee hours enough necessities to suffice a week of travel. The closest to a formal notice he left behind was the blunt instructions he texted to a handful of staff handpicked by his gut feeling.

If anyone asks, I’m in Jakarta 👋🏽✈️

Nothing more.

He could fabricate a working visit out of nowhere, but it would almost certainly be followed up by a slew of questions regarding his rationales. His true intentions. His commitments to the burdens he never signed up for in the first place. People would express — as a request or not — their want for his presence, but rarely their need for it.

Not Indonesia. Not explicitly, at least. He gracefully wielded a commanding presence in public, but he was a closed book in the private sphere. A core of scorching hot earth buried deep that could explode with the right amount of pressure. Under the right conditions, a volcano could erupt violently. Once it did, there was no stopping its flow of destruction. The best Philippines could do was to be the ocean waves awaiting the incoming lava flow.

He listened intently to the stories broadcasted in front of him. It would be a mistake to call Philippines a tone-deaf airhead when he learned, painfully and repeatedly, to temper how his instincts would translate into his body language. In the comfort of his partner’s abode in the capital — at least for the time being — he was free to unravel the mask he wore in public.

The cracks began to form on the level-headed expression he maintained ever since he made landfall where he was not supposed to be. Through all the reports and commentaries as close to impartiality (or not) as they could get, he could see the wars of emotions taking place. Abstracted exhilaration on one end, ineffable grief on the other, and in between the buried pains had begun to fizzle and release steam. He would rather tune out the cries of despair and rage until they all dwindled together into empty static. With his arms crossed, his hands were already gripping tightly on his sleeves and he could already feel his heart beating as if it wanted to break out of his rib cage, away from the memories that were flooding in. Memories of pain and terror that he wished he could forget, but could not afford to.

What snapped him back to reality were the sounds of the front door clicking shut, followed by the taps of leather soles against the terracotta tiles that ascended to the upper floor. The silence of a lover in anguish was louder than the discordant harmonies of an agitated country.

He shut the TV off and made his way upstairs, down the hallway, and towards the open archway that led to the balcony. As he knocked his hand gently against the hardwood frame, a breeze wafted through the bamboo wind chimes above, almost as if Ibu Pertiwi wanted to ensure her guest was acknowledged.

Already, a lit kretek dangled between Indonesia’s fingers (one of which had an unmistakable ink stain at the tip). If Philippines had never cared about preserving his vocal cords, he would have succumbed to the vice as hard as Indonesia had. He only ever smoked when he was under extreme stress, and it surprised many at how infrequent that was.

The last time he lit one up for himself was two years ago, for the same reasons that Indonesia was going through now.

He sat down on the empty chair next to Indonesia’s, unfazed by the burning scent of bitter herbs and spices. Besides, the electric fan standing across them was whirring in their direction, out of respect for the other songbird that lived in the same space.

Philippines glanced up at the brightly-colored wicker cage hanging above on the opposite end of the balcony. He whistled a little tune, and the feathered resident within chirped back in reply.

“He’s healing up well.”

Philippines glanced back in surprise from hearing Indonesia speak up at last.

“I’ll be taking him to a rehab center in Kalimantan. That way, I’ll be around by the time they release him back to the wild.”

“That’s good to hear,” Philippines replied.

Indonesia pressed the end of the cigarette to his lips, then exhaled a puff of smoke. “I hope he doesn’t get caught again.”

“Oh.”

The soft smile on Philippines’ face faded from the realization. Often, Indonesia would foster rescues in critical conditions. At the time of the raid, the songbird was a sickly hatchling. Not only did it make a full recovery, but it chattered so much that the only bigger chatterbox was Philippines (who had pursed his lips like a child making tampo when Indonesia made the joke). Still, even with such a hopeful future ahead of it, there remained the risk of recapture, the violent return to a system that gambled on its ability to satisfy lofty aspirations, and swiftly disposed of those that failed to keep up.

Such a possibility seemed so far-fetched, yet the lack of certainty only served to tighten the suffocating grip of fear. Indonesia and Philippines knew that all too well. Centuries ago, when they had professed their love for one another, they were torn apart by conquerors from far away. Centuries later, when they had renewed their vows for one another, they were torn again by tyrants from within. Decades later, they broke free of those cages, only to return to a world they struggled to adapt to.

Now, they were birds at risk of recapture.

Minutes passed as they sat together in silence, struggling to keep themselves afloat lest they drowned from the millions of clashing voices that burned inside them both. Whatever the outcome, inevitable or not, Philippines would rather burn brightly in hell with Indonesia than abandon him, even if it meant he could at least march onward with most, if not all, pieces of himself intact. Maybe that was the problem, to begin with.

Yet, despite everything, the world continued its revolution around the sun. People continued to move forward with their lives, refusing to let anything or anyone take that away from them. The caged bird continued to sing, even in the face of an unambiguous future.

Indonesia exhaled a last puff of smoke before stubbing out the cigarette in the sand-filled ashtray. Philippines drew his knees up and scooted closer when he felt Indonesia lean onto him. He wrapped Indonesia’s arm around his and their hands slowly entwined together.

Philippines was the first to speak. “Abang?”

“Hm?”

“Do you remember what you told me two years ago? When I was going through what you’re going through now?”

Indonesia remained silent as he recalled.

By that point in time, Philippines was as battered and bruised as anyone, and had been bleeding all over for too long for comfort. Indonesia would easily admit that Philippines was luckier for breaking free a good decade earlier than he would. What he disliked to admit was how it had made him anxious when Philippines would not respond for days, weeks even. That had been his way of learning about how the final results would be of such paramount importance that its reverberations would be felt across the world.

Indonesia’s sole regret was that he did not see Philippines sooner, let alone immediately. Indonesia knew better than anyone, however, that Philippines, for all his exuberance, was the type to push people away when he was upset. He did not even want to celebrate his birthday that year. The next time Indonesia heard from him was when he sent a message that he was arriving a week ahead of the scheduled state visit.

Philippines had remained steadfast against all odds in the crucial months building up to that pivotal moment. He had snuck away to help distribute meals to volunteers who had lightened the load of an immense burden off his shoulders to the best of their abilities. Ultimately, he was desperate to get an up-close-and-personal glimpse of the numbers that were coming in.

He excused himself to get away from the monsters that manifested before his eyes. The flowers of hope still bloomed in many parts, but a bramble of sharp thorns had been growing at a suffocatingly exponential rate that threatened to engulf the whole garden. Philippines felt it crawl up onto his skin and pierce itself onto his very being, causing him to stumble in the empty hallway. It was brightly lit, but it grew increasingly cold and dark. The walls had begun to close in, threatening to crush him if the thorns did not yet thoroughly impale through him first. He wanted to cry out in pain. He wanted to scream for help, but he found himself unable to speak. Or maybe no one could hear him.

Suddenly, he sensed the light ding of a bell and a mild buzz from his pocket. With shaky hands, he pulled out his cell phone and stared at the message that flashed on his screen. He took a step back and steadied himself against the wall before slumping down to the floor. He sat there in the comfortable silence of the empty hallway. He gasped for breath as he held down the outburst of emotions that had welled up in him. A smile radiated across his face, trembling lips notwithstanding, as he rubbed the back of his hand against the tears that had flowed down.

Philippines remembered that moment. He would always remember those words that had been the lifeline he failed to admit that he needed. He wanted Indonesia to remember them, too, forevermore.

Indonesia let out a sigh before finally responding, “I remember.” He was caught by surprise when he felt a hand cup his face to wipe the tear that had trickled down, the faint scent of jasmine emanating from it. He turned to gaze back at the warm gaze of his beloved pearl, remembering how he longed to see them again after years of confined stillness. How he longed to hear his phone ping and see something, anything, new from Philippines. How he had been sitting in drab and stifling formalities. How he had stepped out for a breath of fresh air and passed that onwards to breathe back life into someone from over 2,700 kilometers away. How he wanted Philippines to have something to hold on to, no matter how bleak and dark it got.

He wished he could be kinder to himself, and he was grateful that Philippines was there to remind him.

They gently pressed their foreheads together, and Philippines leaned closer to press his lips against Indonesia’s. He whispered those same words Indonesia had told him before wrapping him in a tight embrace.

I love you, no matter the results.

☼ ☼ ☼

TRANSLATIONS:

azan: The Muslim call to daily prayer (salat). The last one, Isha, is at nighttime. In this age of modernity, loudspeakers play the azan from the mosques. tito: Uncle (Tagalog). It’s not restricted to addressing a biological relative; very often it’s used to address older men like how we use “sir” in English. Ibu Pertiwi: lit. “Mother Earth” in this case; A historical national personification of Indonesia. In my honest opinion, using the local name slapped harder than merely writing “mother nature.” kretek: Indonesian cigarette blend of tobacco and cloves as the main ingredients. tampo: Tricky to translate into words — it’s ten times easier to demonstrate in person. In this context, think of a parent telling their child they should eat their ampalaya (bitter gourd) and the child makes this face >:T abang: Older brother (Bahasa Indonesia); same as how kuya (Tagalog) is used to refer to older peers/upperclassmen (as in like the senior-year senpais, not the elite trapos if you get lmao). Sometimes also a casual way of calling people “sir.”

MISCELLANEOUS:

Frankly, I’ve only ever been to East Java (mostly in Surabaya), so if I missed out on any observable nuances from Jakarta, that’s on me. I also wrote this on a whim of inspiration and spite. In minimized general, Philippine cuisine builds on a sour base with salty or sweet complements. However, spicy is king in Northern and Southern Luzon, and Southern Mindanao. One of my classmates is Bicolana, so eating spicy Indonesian food is a no-brainer for her. Fortunately, they have plenty of milk tea in stock in convenience stores in Indonesia…for those who need a little help in neutralizing the spicy taste HAHA! Someday, I’ll talk about my bayan OCs. Not today. I need more time ironing them out; time I simply do not have right now. For now, Bikol is he/they. Going back to my trip, I saw so many households with pet birds. I ended up learning about how the popularity of songbird competitions drives wildlife trafficking. 🥲 Speaking of which, I headcanon Indonesia as a wildlife officer. Half to restore balance to the universe for the cursed fact that he’s technically a cop; the other half because if Piri is the musically-gifted Disney Princess, then Indo is the forest friend Disney Princess. Kalimantan because that is where they’re constructing the new capital city of Nusantara because Jakarta is sinking among other reasons. Since the dirt children have to work closely with their governments – whether they like it or not (or choose to lol) – Indo would have to eventually move in, assuming it comes through (just saying because my home city was supposed to be the new capital but clearly that flopped lol). The bird rehab center is very real. It’s my first time learning of the place — thanks to me getting insecure about making it up. 😭 Specifically, Piri was at the Parish Pastoral Council for Responsible Voting (PPCRV) command center. It’s non-partisan but affiliated with the Catholic Church in the country; we have another watchdog entity without any religious affiliation – the National Citizens' Movement for Free Election (NAMFREL). The volunteers were encoding election returns in tallying the votes. One of my dearest friends was fast enough to sign up. I had wanted to draw a 612 comic right after Halalan 2022. Scrapped it altogether because I was horribly depressed, so to say. Then, during one of those many low points, I cooked up that plot bunny when Indo texts Piri those words (the last phrase of the fic). Still, I couldn’t get a comic together any sooner, even if it was a shorter one featuring that plot bunny, as I’ve since returned to university. Following the news and social media posts on Indonesia’s post-elections definitely brought back painful memories. And that plot bunny. Originally, I wanted a far shorter but no less cathartic drabble. Ended up going really ham. I wish I could do more. I hope this is enough.

[bigjinx]

but you’re not a kicked dog, are you? and you don’t really need the armor, do you?

prints

[a-ember]

Sun Bird

Oil on canvas

instagram: audrey.aember

[bobbole]

Andrea Zanatelli, Lilium or Joan of Arc

[laurelroadpoetry]

[mxxnlightwriting]

🎹 ONE LAST SHOW OUT NOW 🎹

The wait is finally over! My second novel, One Last Show, is out now in ebook (paperback to come in January 2025).

This is my love letter to friendships, second chances and figuring yourself out in a world trying to put you in a box you're not super comfortable with. I'm so happy with how this story turned out, and I hope this book feels like a warm hug once you read it.

About One Last Show

One Last Show is a YA Contemporary novel about two ex-best friends who find themselves working alongside each other to bring their school musical to life. Will they rekindle their friendship or call it quits for good? If you like High School Musical and Heartstopper, then this book is for you!

You can get it now at your favourite ebook retailer or read it for free on Kobo Plus (waiting for it to be added to libraries so you can read it for free free).

Below, I've included the blurb and One Last Show's tropes and microtropes (this book may or may not include a fictional DnD-adjacent campaign, but you'll only know if you keep reading this post or if you read the book!)

Blurb

Emma and Dylan used to be best friends. Now, they barely talk to each other.

Emma Hoffmann knows what she wants: to get selected for the local newspaper internship. Emma also knows what she doesn’t want: to join the school musical organisation as a songwriter. That’s in the past, much like her friendship with Dylan.

Dylan Williams needs a sense of direction in his life. After dedicating his entire life to baseball, he’s starting to question all of his choices. When he comes across the school musical audition call, he decides to give it a try for old-time’s sake. This might be his last chance to step on a stage, and he doesn't want to miss out on it.

Against Emma’s better judgement, she joins the school musical organisation committee. Against Dylan’s expectations, he gets cast as the male lead. Now, three years later, the two ex-best friends find themselves in close proximity again, but they never felt more distant from one another.

Is it time to close the curtains on their friendship for good? Or are Emma and Dylan only in need of a change of script?

Tropes

🎹 Ex-best friend to ? (no romance involved) 🎵 Coming of age story 🎹 Baseball Player MMC 🎵 Comforting Vibes (this book should feel like a hug) 🎹 Dual POV (in third person) 🎵 Songwriter FMC

Microtropes

🎹 Made Up song lyrics 🎵 Field Trip 🎹 DnD-adjacent campaign 🎵 Autumn Season 🎹 Romance Subplot 🎵 Friendships

[triviareads]

ARC Review of Can't Get Enough by Kennedy Ryan

Rating: 4.25/5 Heat Level: 3.5/5 Pub Date: May 13th

Premise:

Hendrix is a thriving businesswoman in the entertainment industry who is also caring for a mother with Alzheimer's. When sparks fly during a chance encounter with tech mogul and client's ex-boyfriend Maverick, Hendrix has to contend with what it means for her career future.

My thoughts:

This is the first book I'm reading in the Skyland series, and I can safely say whatever hangups I had about starting the series have been put to rest because Kennedy Ryan does an excellent job of straddling the line between romance and women's fiction to give us a love story that is as fulfilling as the heroine's personal journey.

A big part of what made this book work for me is that Hendrix is a heroine in her forties who is not only accomplished professionally, but she has plenty of life and relationship experience which means she's not at all babe in the woods when it comes to a man like Maverick pursuing her with single-minded focus. It doesn't mean her life is perfect; she's struggling with providing the best care possible for her mother who has Alzheimer's. It's tough emotionally, and Kennedy Ryan doesn't shy away from portraying the ups and downs that come with the disease throughout the book.

It's also how Hendrix and Mav bond initially, over the shared experience of a loved one getting Alzheimer's. It's heavy for a first meeting, but there are definite... undercurrents right from the start, and it sparks that "this could be something...." sense in Hendrix though she holds off because of a professional conflict of interest since she works with Mav's ex Zere. Mav, on the other hand, is all-in pretty early.

Which is interesting because Mav is coming right off a three year relationship. The aftermath of the break-up treated with the right level of seriousness without edging into overdramatic territory or expending too much time on it. Basically, Zere wanted children while Mav didn't want another child, though Zere fundamentally does not... understand this. Still, the narrative does not outright villainize her. Hendrix on the other hand is child-free by choice, something that's mentioned explicitly and early on, which I appreciate seeing in a romance.

The other thing that made this work for me on a romance level is Kennedy Ryan does such a fantastic job of balancing the billionaire hero fantasy (the flowers! the yacht! the 1928 Macallan he drinks off her!) of it all with the fact that heroine does not want to blindly benefit from what he can give her; she's a successful businesswoman in her own right and she does not want to be beholden in that way, or sacrifice her goals for his. It's a Grown Adult romance, one with plenty of on-page negotiation and compromising— though I do think the key friction point where that compromise was necessary came surprisingly late in the book. Still, it doesn't take away from the overall swooniness.

The sex:

The spontaneous sex scenes in this book were my favorites by far— they're quick and dirty and there's so much unresolved *tension* after them, but the ROMANCE and body worship vibes of the later ones as Mav and Hendrix truly get to know each other are a strong contender.

Also, shoutout to the author for successfully sexualizing shapewear and normalizing casual lube use.

Overall:

I initially became a Kennedy Ryan fan after reading the Kingmaker duology because of the INSANELY high stakes plot, and after reading Can't Get Enough, I've realized Kennedy Ryan knows how to take those same high interpersonal stakes and translate that into a softer, less bonkers situation with just as much capital R romance.

Thank you to NetGalley and Forever for the advanced copy.

[margindoodles2407]

wippity woppity your attention span is now my property

(i'm getting desperate okay. there are only so many silly jokes i can make)

@seeking-elsewhither

Fives's eyes are wide, wider than normal, and his footfall is stumbling and his speech is beginning to slur, but it's not until he buckles forward and grabs him by the shoulders that Kix finally notices--

Oh. Oh, by the Sea. He's missing a finger.

Oh, stars above. He's not wearing his ring.

Oh, Bright Force. 

He's dying. 

"Fives," he gasps. Horrified. "You're not- your ring-"

"I know. I took it off. Had to-- had'ta cut it off, actually."

"Fives, you'll die!" He takes his brother's mangled, still-bleeding hand in his own two, oh so gently, but Fives simply pulls it away and raises it in a gesture of *stop*. 

"No. No, I'm not gonna... no, I won't die." He makes a face. "Well. Okay. I might die. But not cause'a the ring. I was poisoned. Neurotoxin. In my tea." He takes a shuddering breath and collapses again, pressing his flushed face into the crook of Kix's neck for a brief moment of respite from what must be a throbbing headache. He comes up again almost instantly. "Not... important right now. Kix, we're being deceived."

There is an urgency in his tone, a desperation in his eyes, and it scares Kix. Deeply. His brother, his vod-- his frater-- he's normally so level-headed. So straightforward. So clear and calm and composed. 

What could have possibly done this to the unflappable ARC Legionary?

"Frater meus, what do you mean?" he murmurs, resting a cool (bloody) hand against Fives's cheek. (He starts to lean into it but forces his eyes open and pulls away.) 

"Kix. Please. Listen to me. I don't... have the time to explain it right, right now." He takes a deep breath, straightens his spine, and takes a few stumbling steps back. "But I promise, I'll tell you everything, when- when I'm better. I need you to do something for me, though. Please, Kix, if you've ever loved me, or any of our brothers. I need you to contact the Captain. General Skywalker, too, if you can. 'S an abandoned... tavern. Lower levels of the Island. Tell them to meet me there." He's halfway to the door already.

"Wait," Kix half-pleads, and Fives stops. "Wait. You said you were poisoned. Please, Fives, I'll talk to the Captain, but come with me back to the barracks. I'm sure I have an antidote somewhere, and you're clearly not--"

"Kix." His slurring is getting worse by the second, but his voice is gentle and warm and sad. "There's no time. I can't stay much longer; the High King put a bounty on my head and I'm sure the Guard are all over the Island looking for me. This tavern's probably one of the first places they'll search. And, Kix, frater, vod, you didn't come to the bar to play doctor. But I promise you, as soon as I've relayed my message to the Captain, you can give me the antidote and fix up my finger and do anything you feel the need to do to make me better."

There are tears in Kix's eyes that he knows he has no time to shed. He just wants to help. 

He knows that, right now, there's only one way he can.

"Okay. But please, Fives. Don't die before then."

His plea earns him a sad, tired smile. "Promitto." I swear it. 

He falters away again. Shakes his head to reorient himself and heads for the door. 

The stump of his finger is still dripping blood.

[a-skirmish-of-wit-and-lit]

Anywhere You Go by Bridget Morrissey

Anywhere You Go is a queer retelling of The Holiday whereby the main characters, Tatum and Eleanor, swap homes to escape the chaos in their personal lives.

Eleanor, a Broadway press agent, needs to get away from New York after a scandal comes to light that effects her high profile job. What better place to recharge than in a small Midwestern town? Tatum, a waitress, jettisons off with her longtime, kept-at-a-distance crush, June, after she learns that her father's planning to introduce her and her entire family to their half-brother from an affair he had long ago. While both of them live incredibly different lives, the thing that tethers them together is their fear, their avoidance, of commitment and emotional intimacy. However, with this house swap, Tatum and Eleanor will discover new sides to themselves, opening up to new people and places they never thought possible.

This was a sweet and charming sapphic romance. I enjoyed the development of both romances, had fun tagging along with Tatum and June in the city, and loved the banter between Eleanor and Carson. The found family trope was an added delight, too. Tatum and Eleanor navigated the hurtles blocking them from emotional intimacy realistically, and I liked that they each ultimately arrived at their own happy ending.

Thanks to NetGalley and Berkley for the ARC in exchange for my review.

**3.5/5 stars

**Follow me on Goodreads

[a-bi-between-pages]

ARC Review of “Tell Me Not to Kiss You” by Elee Rose

⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️

I originally had the opportunity to read “Tell Me Not to Kiss You” ahead of its official release—but surprise! Elee Rose decided to release it early! So here’s my honest review of the book, now that I’ve read it.

““Why is it so big?!” In the center of my living room, I watched Drea struggle to set up the inflatable photo booth. “That’s what she said!” Drea shouted…”

When a book starts with a “that’s what she said” joke, you just know it’s going to be good! “Tell Me Not to Kiss You” was such a fun read—definitely a bit of a rollercoaster, but in the best way. It had so many of my favorite tropes: enemies to lovers, found family, and a slow burn sapphic romance. The story follows Fallon and Mackenzie, neighbors in the same apartment building, who meet under less-than-ideal circumstances. Remember that enemies-to-lovers trope I mentioned? Yeah, these two HATED each other at first. But of course, as with any good enemies-to-lovers story, things start to shift, and by the end, they’re totally falling for each other.

Elee Rose’s writing was honestly fantastic! It’s hard to believe that this was her debut book! Her storytelling was super engaging and easy to follow, and she gave just the right amount of detail to bring the world to life. I could picture everything so clearly in my mind. She also included a lot of moments that really hit close to home for me, and the way she captured those emotions and thoughts really impressed me.

“If the person who was supposed to love you no matter what can hurt you like that, how do you trust anyone?”

~~~

“What man takes in a woman with a child, not to mention, heavy baggage from a previous marriage, raises them as his own, and loves those two women with his whole heart?”

This story had so many amazing elements! It was funny, spicy, emotional, hopeful, reflective, lighthearted—and even a little inspiring. If you’re into contemporary romance that explores rebuilding trust, navigating new relationships, and features strong found family dynamics, then “Tell Me Not to Kiss You” is definitely one to check out!

[propalahramota]

I love those slide videos on Tiktok that are like "Unsolved historical mysteries that live rent free in my head"

And the mysteries in question are 3 conspiracy theories and like 4 things that are actually well-researched, well-documented, and in fact, not a mystery.

[hayleyreadssapphicbooks]

Worth Waiting For by Kristin Keppler

“Worth Waiting For” by Kristin Keppler is a contemporary romance that follows Peyton, an aquarium worker. After nine years since their high school romance, Hanna shows up as the aquarium's newest employee. Kristin has been heartbroken since they broke up and sought relief through sex and surfing. Hanna seems successful with her new PhD in hand, a girlfriend, and success. So why is she here?

The book is a sweet romance that shows a second chance love story. Unlike other contemporary romance novels, “Worth Waiting For” is only from the perspective of Peyton. I enjoyed this as I felt the reader got to relearn Hanna at the same time as Peyton. Some chapters also flashback to their high school era, which shows how their relationship was back then compared to now. I didn’t expect the flashbacks, and they weren’t my favorite part of the book as I wanted to read about adult romance in an adult romance book, but I can see why the chapters were there.

I haven’t read any other books by Kristin Keppler, but this one establishes her as a great sapphic romance author. And after looking into her other books there is another romance novel set in the same world, featuring Peyton’s best friend in this one, called “One Last Summer.” I enjoyed “Worth Waiting For” and so I will be adding the other to my reading list.

I think “Worth Waiting For” is a perfect book to add to any sapphic reader, especially if you like the second chance trope and a little bit of spice along with a sweet romance.

Thank you to NetGalley and Bold Strokes Books, Inc. for the digital ARC!

POV: first person, present tense

Spice: 🔥

Rating: ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️/5

[gaybookpromotions]

🌈 #Bloggers and 📚 #Reviewers are invited to join the RELEASE BLITZ for The 39 Steps: A Contemporary Reimagining by L M Somerton   

➡️ More information and sign up here:

[laurelroadpoetry]

[mxxnlightwriting]

🎹 One Last Show Release Schedule 🎹

It's (almost) One Last Show time! I'm super excited for you to read this book, but before then, I'll share sneak peeks on the dates mentioned on this release schedule (made by yours truly) and some others that will remain a secret for now.

If you'd like to receive some of these little sneak peeks before everyone else, then consider joining my newsletter. You can find it on my pinned post alongside the one to apply for an eARC of this book!

🎹 About One Last Show ONE LAST SHOW is a YA coming-of-age novel about two ex-best friends who find themselves working alongside each other to bring their school musical to life. Will they rekindle their friendship or call it quits for good? If you enjoy HIGH SCHOOL MUSICAL and HEARTSTOPPER, then this book might be up your alley. It will be released on December 19, 2024. Follow me if you don't want to miss any updates regarding this release!

ONE LAST SHOW Release Schedule Transcript:

Nov 11th - Blurb Reveal Nov 13th - ARC Sign-Up* Nov 22nd - Cover Reveal Dec 2nd - Trope Reveal Dec 3rd - Character Intro Dec 6th - Book Playlist Dec 10th - Character Intro Dec 19th - Ebook Release Dec 26th - Book Dedication Jan 16th - Paperback Release

*ARC Sign-Up is already open. Head over to my profile and click the 🔗 to find the form to apply!

[triviareads]

ARC Review of Give It To Me (Anthology) by Angelina M. Lopez

Rating: 4.5/5 Heat Level: 4.5/5 Publication Date: September 10th

My review:

Super sexy, gorgeously emotional, and centering Latinx love, Give It To Me has fourteen high-heat short stories and something for everyone— slice-of-life moments between long-term partners, first (and last) encounters, and a few cameos from your favorite Filthy Rich and Milagro Street characters.

First, my favorite: "Twelve Drummers" is, on it's face, about jewel thief Anna accidentally getting caught up in a magical Aztec (Mexica) orgy summoned by the beat of a teponaztli drum, joined by Juan Carlos, a museum guard she has a crush on. But it's so much more; Angelina wove in all these beautiful cultural details like the traditional attire and music of the Mexica. There is nothing fetishistic about this orgy; it's a celebration of the solstice, and on an emotional level, it's the first time Anna, a solitary jewel thief and one of the "unseen" all-Latina cleaning staff, is truly seen by someone.

"In the Stacks" also deserves a shoutout; a construction worker catches PhD student Rosalia getting herself off in a corner of the library, and he coaxes her to lean into the situation and let him watch (and more) by way of a very filthy-sweet mouth. It feels like recent contemporary romances are afraid to veer off the beaten path when it comes to dirty talk, so it just felt joyful and freeing to read a man with ZERO filter who just goes for it.

If you're a fan of Angelina's Lush Money and the following books in the Filthy Rich series, there are a few short stories that expand on that universe with romances for side characters AND we get The Vineyard Bang That Was Promised with Roxanne and Mateo, which was every bit as feral as I knew it would be.

If you enjoyed the Milagro Street series, there is a post-After Hours on Milagro Street scene that once again reminded me that Professor Jeremiah Post is a nice guy without being a Nice Guy, that nice guys can secretly be animals in the sack, and sometimes, a gal just wants to be tossed around like a sack of potatoes. And if you've read Full Moon Over Freedom, you'll remember how the summer after her freshman year of college, Gillian asked asked Nicky for sex lessons, but it was only ever alluded to in the books. Well, we finally get that scene here!

Overall:

For the people saying romances aren't political, they haven't read Angelina M. Lopez. The fourteen short stories felt as empowering and timely as they were sexy, which is no mean feat. I'd absolutely recommend this to any contemporary romance reader.

Also, here are the preorder links because look at that cover?? I'm definitely getting a paperback copy for myself.

Thank you to Angelina M. Lopez for the advanced copy in exchange for my honest review.