When a half-century old skeleton tumbles out of the wall in the midst of the renovation of Cloak and Dagger Bookstore renovation, Adrien turns to hot and handsome ex-lover Jake Riordan — now out-of-the closet and working as a private detective. Jake is only too happy to have reason to stay in close contact with Adrien, but there are more surprises in Adrien’s past than either one of them expects — and one of them may prove hazardous to Jake’s own heart.

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Chapter One

It began, as a lot of things do, in bed.

Or to be precise, on the living-room sofa where I was uncomfortably dozing.

Somewhere in the distance of a very weird dream about me and a certain ex-LAPD police lieutenant came a faint, persistent scratching. The scratching worked itself into my dream, and I deduced with the vague logic of the unconscious that the cat was sharpening his claws on the antique half-moon table in the hall. Again.

Except…that boneless ball of heat on my abdomen was the cat. And he was sound asleep… (continue reading…)

Two men: one with memories he can’t escape, the other with memories he can’t recapture — both trusting strangers who lie.

Amnesiac Peter Killian, suspected art thief, can’t understand why LAPD detective Michael Griffin takes his memory loss so personally.

American expatriate Jack Stoyles, exiled in a distant Atlantic outpost, is suddenly in love with a stranger who kisses him — and then dies. With good reason Jack calls his place “Heartache Cafe”.

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You wouldn’t think it even gets hot in a place like this, but let me tell you, brother, it does. Around the middle of July, the fog clears away, and the sun comes out, hot enough (as they say around these parts) to split the rocks. It’s a different sort of place, not like anywhere I’d ever been before, but when you have to leave home as suddenly as I did, you don’t much care. You just pick a direction on the map and head out and hope things turn out okay. Twelve hundred miles as the crow flies to St. John’s, Newfoundland, from my hometown of Philadelphia; I slept nearly the whole way, never mind the roaring of the airplane engines. Some things hit harder than others, and I’d been dealt a knockout punch.

When we landed at the airstrip in this little town called Torbay, I felt like I’d come to the end of the world. Nothing much to see except trees, black spruce and tamarack and scrub pines, and the red gravel airstrip. I got out of my seat and climbed down, stiff and sore, feeling like I’d been run down by a truck. I guess I was still in shock a little bit. The air was colder than I was used to; even Philadelphia winters don’t have this kind of soggy bite. All I wanted was to get inside the little terminal and maybe get a cup of coffee. I had five hundred bucks, American, in my wallet, a passport and a copy of my discharge papers from the army. I guess I should have felt ashamed, because here was Hitler stomping his jackbooted way across Europe, and there was nothing I could do about it. Unfit for active service. Yeah, that’s me — thirty-eight years old and already broken beyond repair.

This — all of this — was a blur to me. I was seeing other streets and hearing a different accent, and I was remembering walking into Moe’s first thing in the morning for a cup of joe, sitting down at the counter to look over the newspaper before I went outside and took a sharp left toward the waterfront. Maybe that’s what drew me to this place: the promise of cold salt air and the tang of the sea in my nostrils, the bustle of the waterfront, and ships coming and going at all hours of the day and night. I loved the idea that I could do the same, just go whenever I wanted to, anywhere I liked in the world, and not have to answer to anybody. If I felt like it, I could hop a freighter to some other place and work my way across the world. It was something Moe and I had talked a lot about whenever I was in there. You thinking of going somewhere? He’d always refill my coffee cup without my having to ask, and I’d always leave a tip. Thinking of leaving old Philly, huh? Right up until the last, I wasn’t sure. Even after it happened, I figured I could just keep on the way I was, doing all the things that I’d been doing. I figured I was strong enough to take it, right up until I stood on the Delaware River Bridge one morning, looking down into the swirling water and wondering if I had the nerve.

You want to know what stopped me? (continue reading…)

In stories from four different wars and four different locales, four different writers honour men who chose to serve their country. Josh Lanyon, Samantha Kane, Victor Banis and George Seaton look at love when lives are at their worst and men are at their best.

This book is dedicated to those gay men who by not telling continue to serve our country with pride and honor. To those gay men who found the strength to tell and the courage to hold their heads high while being discharged in disgrace. To those gay men who have sacrificed their lives to maintain our freedoms while sacrificing their freedom to be heard.

Till we are judged for the honor and strength of our character and not by the prejudice and weakness of others…

I wish you Fair Seas, Following Winds, Safe Harbor & Silent Running.

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One of the best pieces of flying advice Bat got was from his brother Algernon who flew reconnaissance at the start of the war.

“Think down to the gunners,” Algie had said. “Treat it like a game. You’re pitting your skill against theirs. It’s a kind of sport, really. And remember, a chasse machine is rarely brought down by Archie. You’re too fast for them. There are plenty of ways to outfox them. The best pilots are the best sportsmen.” He’d ruffled Bat’s hair, adding grimly, “Or the chaps who learn to stop feeling anything at all.”

At the time Bat couldn’t imagine what he meant. (continue reading…)

Dark Horse was Josh Lanyon’s first foray into writing for the m/m romance market. It also turned out to be one of his readers’ favorite tales.

In a Dark Wood and Ghost of a Chance explore the terrors of houses haunted by something far worse than ghosts: the toxic product of guilt and shattered memory.

British agent Mark Hardwicke is on the run from a mission gone horribly wrong, looking for shelter and care. But, in I Spy Something Bloody the only man who can offer that shelter and care is also the only man that Mark seems determined to push from his life.

This collection includes the bonus short story A Limited Engagement, written for a collection whose sales support funding for marriage equality in the United States.

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In a dark, dark wood there was a dark, dark house…

Years ago I read on the Internet about this creepy old house in the eastern woods — there were even photos — and then when the idea came to write this story and I tried to find the page again, I couldn’t. Which seemed appropriately eerie. Anyway, Tim’s problems came as a revelation to me. I kept trying to write away from them, but they just wouldn’t go away.

“We’re lost.”

Luke came up behind me. I pointed, hand shaking, at the cross carved into the white bark of the tree. “We’re going in goddamned circles!”

He was silent. Beneath the drone of insects I could hear the even tenor of his breathing although we’d hiked a good nine miles already that autumn afternoon — and no end to it in sight. My head ached and I had a stitch in my side like someone was jabbing me with a hot poker. (continue reading…)

In Dangerous Ground a casino robbery finds government agents Taylor and Will playing a game of cat-and-mouse with remorseless killers in the wilderness of California’s High Sierras.

Snowball in Hell introduces police detective Lt. Matthew Spain and reporter Nathan Doyle, men thrown together by murder. But, in post-WWII Los Angeles consequences of their attraction are serious, even for good guys. Lanyon fans take note: It’s around Matthew and Nathan that Lanyon builds his new mystery series.

Writer Tim North assures his lover, homicide detective Jack Brady, that there’s little danger in researching a sensational Hollywood murder committed decades before either of them was born. But, with Cards on the Table, Tim discovers that he’s very, very wrong. This collection includes the bonus short story In Sunshine or In Shadow.

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Chapter One

The card was wedged under the brass 17 on my apartment door when I got back from my morning swim. For what felt like a long time I stood dripping on the welcome mat, staring at the slightly crooked number and the colored rectangle beneath.

A tarot card.

Finally, I removed the card, examined it. A castle in flames, a man and woman plummeting to the cliffs below, and the words The Tower.

Not good. Even if I turned it upside down so that the man and woman seemed to be doing handsprings through the clouds and lightning, it still looked pretty ominous.

I told myself that someone was playing a joke on me.

Funny stuff. (continue reading…)