by Amy Lane
A Candy Man Book
Ezra Kellerman flew across country to see if he had another chance with the man he let slip through his fingers. He didn't. Rico has moved on, but he doesn’t just leave his ex high and dry. Instead, Rico entrusts his family and friends with Ezra’s care. Ezra, confused, hurt, and lost, clings to Rico’s cousin and his boyfriend as the lifelines they are—but their friend Miguel is another story.
Miguel Rodriguez had great plans and ambition—but a hearty dose of real life crushed those flat. When Miguel finds himself partially in charge of the befuddled, dreamy, healing Ezra, he’s pretty resentful at first. But Ezra’s placid nature and sincere wonder at the simple life Miguel has taken for granted begin to soften Miguel’s hardened shell. Miguel starts to notice that Ezra isn't just amazingly sweet—he’s achingly beautiful as well. Suddenly Miguel is fending off every single man on the planet to give Ezra room to get over Rico—while fighting a burning suspicion that the best thing to help Ezra get over his broken heart is Miguel.
Available at Amazon
Available at DSP
Available at ARe
Okay, folks-- it's out, and available at all of the usual outlets--SQUEEEEEEE!!!! I'm SO excited-- people have really loved this, and if I was tech savvy AT ALL I would have managed to link you to the montage of big dogs and sweet kitties that Gay Book Reviews put up on Twitter, because they SO managed to capture my guys!
Now, this isn't the last addition to The Candy Land books--but it is, thus far, the longest--and the most serious. Ezra has been hurt, and Miguel dented a little, and both of them take some time getting used to each other. They're both a little wary and a little reluctant--they are, in fact, as suited as, well, cats and dogs.
But, like the cat and the dog in the picture, once they bond?
Now, I know the big news isn't that Ezra and Miguel get their HEA (although I really hope you enjoy reading about it, because it was FUN to write!) The BIG news is going to be who the new MC is going to be, in the last book Licorice Whip. To that end, I think I'll post an excerpt here-- stay tuned!
And one more thing-- on WED, THE 27TH , Candy Man is going to be on sale at ARe-- half-priced! So, if you haven't read the whole series yet, Wednesday will be a great time to start!
* * *
So, about waffles...
You'll know the scene when you get to it, trust me.
But I just went back and checked my blog, and you know what? I realized that the moment that inspired this scene was not a moment I ever blogged.
So here you go-- an added extra, just for you:
I went to San Diego three times this year, twice by car, and once by plane. The time by plane I went to see Chicken graduate and to fly with her back home. Which meant I was in a hotel by myself for two mornings, unsupervised.
This. Was a bad. Thing.
The first morning I went to go get a continental breakfast and encountered a problem of being Amy.
They had two waffle irons and one can of cooking spray--which I did not see until after I'd dispensed some waffle batter and poured it on.
The result was...
Well, burnt waffle batter, stuck in all the crevices of a waffle iron, and me, with nothing but plastic utensils.
I chipped away for probably ten minutes before the nice maintenance man came and helped me. We were melting forks and knives on this thing left and right--and neither of us spoke the same language. (My God, people, I took German in high school. German. I think about that now and I want to cry. German. Because, you know, there's just Germans, falling out of the fucking sky in California. I had some stupid misplaced sense of getting in touch with my roots since my maiden name was Rau. Jesus.) That's okay, he could call me "idiot fat woman" in Spanish and do it with a smile, and I was just so grateful for the help that I didn't care.
He took the waffle iron away to be washed and sprayed the cooking spray on the other one and dumped the waffle stuff, and I hovered around, thinking, "Oh, hey, this guy probably has a fifteen minute break and I just used it up trying to excavate a waffle iron from cement with a plastic fork." But when he was done, he didn't eat it-- he held it out for me.
The waffle was for me.
I almost cried.
At that moment my phone rang, and I tried to explain the whole incident to Rhys Ford, who went to Chicken's graduation with me because she's an amazing friend.
But her basic takeaway from the whole story was, "Only you, Amy. Seriously. Only you."
Or, as you will see, only Ezra. Seriously. Frickin Ezra!