Gay Romance Fiction by Raven Davies
EXCITING OFFER!!! Be one of the first to ask, via email, to receive s free, signed, paperback copy of "PlanetTerra Journals Volume I: WET SEASON". There are only five available and will be sent to you free, if you agree to read the book, send the author a review, and tell all your friends about it via Facebook, conversation, or eMail. Raven would be most appreciative of good karma from the five readers. This is a one time offer available only in Canada and the USA. Enjoy!!!
What we call the beginning is often the end,
And to make an end is to make a beginning.
The end is where we started.
T. S. Eliot
About the Book
Adventure begins when Trevor Sloane, a legendary photographer, and Phoenix Thornton-Jones, a fledgling journalist, meet and are offered a remarkable job: to focus on an average person's opinion on the rectification of world problems and ancient mysteries. Through stunning images by Sloane, and the poetic words, imagination, and innocence of Thornton-Jones, they must investigate dire situations yet unsolved and create controversial conclusions. Hesitant to take on such a task, due to his dislike of reporters in general, Trevor accepts the deal and finds himself immersed in the younger man's own mystery, as he becomes aware of the strange idiosyncrasies, the phobias, and the physical scars of his young partner, which all lead to wild speculation over 'the accident' explanation. Wet Season is the first of a series of adventures of two men who could possibly change world opinion, with the freedom to express their findings and provocative thoughts in a high-priced glossy magazine. The Brazilian rainforest is their first target, where their love and anger, discovery and danger, change moment by moment. Their conclusions are radical, as hope turns to despair, and disgust turns to enlightenment. They reach an impasse with work and their romance, while success or failure looms as dark as the clouds during the wet season in the wilds of Amazonia.
||Friction Fiction Books 2011
ISBN: 978-0-9866742-1-1 through www.Lulu.com
Kindle: from Amazon
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...After a ten-minute introduction, a pep talk, and a shaking of hands, Warren had two strangers out of his office and on their way
down the glass elevator. Trevor sucked in his breath and held it for the
entire trip down the thirty-four floors; his back firmly braced against
the metal door. He would be ready when the silent opening made its
move. Unafraid of heights, he had scaled and repelled many a
mountain cliff with heavy equipment in tow, but his hands and
knowledge had checked the harnessing thoroughly, unlike the free-fall
elevator mysteriously attached to the exterior surface of the looming
tower. He never took his eyes off his new partner, a diversion to
thwart the feeling of an impending crash.
An unusual young man in appearance and countenance, Phoenix
Thornton-Jones had his gloved hands pressed against the see-through
shell, enjoying the sensation of flying and the panoramic view he had
never seen, except once on the way up. His naďve wonderment
charmed Sloane, who watched the diminutive figure silently from the
safest position, knowing a smile enhanced the remarkable face at the
sight. Reaching ground, both men exited the building, the larger man
heading toward traffic to engage in another altercation with a
treacherous yellow vehicle. Feeling a presence behind him, he turned
to see a befuddled kid looking up and down the street, and then down
at his toes, mimicking a hapless tourist without a decent map in hand.
“What’s up, kiddo? Did Graham give you the name of your
“No, sir. Maybe you could recommend one. Don’t know of
any, or what I’m supposed to do. Thought we could go someplace and
discuss our next step.” The younger man did not look up to face the
giant-sized man. He could not; he could not directly face anyone, but
for a handful of very close friends.
“We’ll wave down a cab, drop you off someplace respectable,
and then I’ll carry on to my apartment. While I sleep, you can settle
“Okay.” Again, Thornton-Jones did not look up, but jumped to
attention when asked to hail a taxi. Considering the items he carried,
one arm seemed maneuverable enough to lift for attention, but he
missed his first attempt. A second wave meant another miss, and he
heard Sloane sigh heavily behind him.
“Step aside; you’ll break trying this. I don’t know if my own
body can handle much more of New York’s transportation system.
Watch my bags, particularly the metal one.” Trevor set his luggage at
the edge of the curb, indicating to his new sidekick to move into
position next to the distinctive case of valuable camera equipment, and
to stand guard over his own costly gear. Tens of thousands of dollars
now sat on the sidewalk for the taking, if not for the two men keeping
an eye out as to their precise location. Phoenix stood exactly where
told, his toes clinging to the edge of the cement rise, a good viewing
point to watch a lunatic venture into bumper-car traffic.
Sloane picked his oncoming target, and as he had done at the
airport, stopped the vehicle by slamming his upper body down hard
against the hood from the side. Further frenzied insults peppered the
unflappable photographer, while the younger man took the cue, opened
the back door immediately, tossed in two backpacks, gently loading the
three important cases of working gear, and then scrambled into the
narrow remaining space. Without hesitation, but a little cursing over a
possible rib injury, Trevor climbed into the front seat; an action seldom
taken in the formidable city.
“Hey, man, what you doin’? You ain’t s’posed to be sittin’ next
to me; ‘sides, you could get yourself killed pullin’ a stunt like that.
Man, you are one crazy dude. You gotta be nuts.” The cabby, in the
Peruvian hat with ear warmers, gruffly snarled.
“I’m bolts; the one in back is nuts.” Sloane’s quick humor
invoked a snicker from the rear, but the driver rolled his eyes and
asked for a destination from Mr. Bolts.
“Mott Street, Chinatown, but we have to find Mr. Nuts a place
to stay first. Hey, kiddo, did Graham give you expense money or a
“No, I didn’t think to ask.” The voice sounded embarrassed.
Obviously, the fledgling journalist had little business sense, and
probably did not have the remotest idea regarding expense accounts, or
even how much he would be earning.
“Do you have cash for a hotel, dinner, etc. etc. etc.?” Trevor
tried to speed up the conversation with his best Yul Brenner imitation
from The King and I, while praying, to the silver-clouded sun above, to
speed him home and into bed.
“Some. Enough for...”
“...a burger and a scummy motel in another state. Shit. We’re
being played, my friend, or our publisher’s becoming senile.” Sloane
leaned against the door of the cab, rubbing his temple on the right side.
“I’ll be fine. You’re tired and need rest. Just drop me off here.”
Rejection echoed in the soft, raspy voice; the hesitation accompanying
it increased Trevor’s bafflement.
The older man had lived on his own since sixteen, sent away to
school and college by a caring, but antiquated English born and bred
father. He had raised himself with little regard toward other’s
concerns, except for his small family and a few favorite lovers and
friends. Drawing into himself only, today he needed to conjure up
some honest compassion and quickly. With a lens between himself
and Thornton-Jones, he would see the reasoning behind the man’s
nervousness and probably every detail of his life. A photographer was
what he was and how he viewed the world--through his camera--to
separate himself from the reality. “So, there’s the rub, as Shakespeare
wrote in Hamlet; I think. Okay, decision made; you’ll come home
with me, Warren’s little darling; and we’ll play his game of trick or
treat. Once I’ve had my power nap, we’ll get you sorted out...”
What People are Saying
We only have one review, however, it does have a 5 star booksellers rating from AbeBooks, The Book Depository, Paperbackshop-US, Books2Anywhere, BuySomeBooks, and ABC Books. If you would like to post a review on this novel or one of the others, please contact the author and send it via email to: email@example.com
"As a straight male, born and raised in Ethiopia, where homosexuality is a crime and Christianity is very strict, I have never read gay fiction. After reading 'Wet Season', given to me by a friend in Canada, I have changed my erroneous opinion. As an avid reader, I gave it a read, and my mental imagery changed of such partnerships. Just as heterosexual couples, gay relationships blossom, with caring, affection, adoration, respect, trust, and love. Seeing an entirely new side of the stereotypical gay male, I thoroughly enjoyed this book. The story, in its entirety, was an intriguing and exciting adventure, while learning a great deal of what is happening in Brazil and the destruction of more of the rainforest, upon which we rely to stop climate change. As an environmentalist, I found 'Wet Season' informative in so many ways and look forward to the sequel promised by the ending. Thank you Raven for sharing a beautifully crafted story, set in a country of too many contradictions."
Tessama, author of 'Bahir Mado'.