Hello, Delilah! Thank you for inviting me to discuss a topic near and dear to my heart. When I read my first ‘romance’ in 1986, the world was a very different place. I put romance in quotes because Judy Blume’s Forever doesn’t have a traditional happy ending. Or maybe it does. What’s traditional anyway?

Forty years later, I have a very different perspective on “romance.”

I put pen to paper first in 1996 to try to write my own romance.  I discovered I wanted to give my heroine a happy ending. Now, I was going to put her through hell first…but I’d give her a happily ever after (before I’d even heard that term).  I managed to finish a full novel in 2012 and sent that off to a publisher, believing, of course, they’d want my brilliance (spoiler alert – they didn’t).  Around that time, I got my first eReader.  My world exploded.  I had no idea such wonderful things existed! All these books! And some free! (Which I didn’t understand at the time, but I do now.)  I binged.  I found authors I’d never heard of. I found subgenres I’d never considered (hello, I see you BDSM).  One story I grabbed was by Ava March.

A gay romance.

Nothing earth-shattering happened when I read the story.  I thought, hey that was good.  What else does she have? And I read a bunch of others.  And then I found another author I was interested in and I moved on.  Being gay wasn’t a big deal to me.  Having gay friends wasn’t a big deal.  Hell, we’d already had gay marriage for about half-a-dozen years in Canada.

I kept reading and writing and trying to get published.

Eventually, I realized I needed help with that journey.  I met a freelance editor in a reader/writer chat and hired her.  She tackled the task of making me a better writer.

Even she’ll admit the task was an uphill battle.

What can I say? I didn’t know what I didn’t know.

She taught me.

Soon after we connected, though, she recommended a couple of authors whom she adored and who she thought I could learn from.  Authors of gay romance.  Completely unfazed, I grabbed everything those authors had as an audiobook.  And listened. And fell in love.  And then bought more. And listened more. And fell harder.

Somewhere along the way, that editor sent me back manuscripts with TONS of red ink.  But I read the comments, tried to learn from the corrections, and endeavored to be a better writer.

But my love of gay romance had been solidified.  Eventually, I joined a review blog, and, to this day, I write reviews for gay romances I listen to.

This all came naturally to me.  Being gay isn’t a huge deal in my world.  But I understand that it is for lots of people.  I am cognizant of the battle many have endured – and what struggles many still face.  I get that the world is a scary place.

What I’ve always tried to be is an ally.  I didn’t know much about that in high school, but I started to meet more people in university who showed me what allyship looked like.  I’ve endeavored to always be a safe space for people.  At work, I had a symbol in my cubicle that let co-workers know I was a friend to all members of the Rainbow.  I’ve tried to extend that to be as welcoming as I can to everyone.

What does this look like in my writing?  Remember that first romance I tried to write? Back in 1996? Still not finished and needs to be completely rewritten? The heroine’s best friend was a gay man who was in a committed relationship with another man. It never occurred to me that might be controversial.

Since then? Every character, aside from those who are purposefully portrayed as hateful, are casually or actively allies to gay folk.  Sometimes that allyship is proactive, and sometimes it’s just there in the background.  The point is, I know language can hurt. I’m always so careful.  And I have sensitivity and beta readers who try to catch my mistakes.  But I do my damnest to ensure I’m moving my writing forward.

Now, I write gay romances. I also write bisexual romances, lesbian romances, pansexual romances, and romances between men and women.  Truthfully, I write a lot.  What I try to do, under the pennames who write primarily male/female romances, is to find ways to make connections.  So if there isn’t a POC as a lead character in one book, you can be pretty sure I have them as secondary characters – often heading toward books of their own.  I often have queer characters – often heading toward books of their own.  These stories, though, give me the opportunity to show what active allyship looks like.

Two stories I’ve written recently fall into that category. Josette, from Josette and the Count could be forgiven if she was a little jaded.  The boy that the world always assumed she was going to marry turned out to be gay and chose her brother instead.  Now, Josette’s pretty swift and had, somewhere along the way, read the writing on the wall.  In fact, she wound up bringing them together and giving them her blessing.  Full-throated allyship.

Kendra, from High on Love, also has a gay brother.  An overbearing, impossible, annoying-as-shit brother.  He drives her nuts.  But she’s ticked off at him and no matter how irritated she gets, she would never use the fact he’s gay against him in any way.  And, in fact, when Noel meets someone he might actually not be antagonistic toward, sister Kendra is happy to shoo him in that person’s direction.  She loves her brother – she just wishes he wasn’t always trying to boss her around. (In truth, he’s got reasons for being overprotective, but that’s for another day.)

Casual allyship. Vocal allyship.  Friendship. Loving and caring.

These are all things my gay characters are so deserving of in their lives.

In fact, it’s something everyone is deserving of.

That’s my story of how I’ve been an ally since I first put pen to paper in any serious way.

Thanks, Delilah, for inviting me here to talk about another aspect of my storytelling. I would love to hear from your readers. What was the first romance they remember reading?  I tried Danielle Steele before moving to category romance where I stayed for years (hence the first book I ever tried to sell being a category romance). Let me know!  One lucky commenter – chosen by Random – will win copies of High on Love, Josette and the Count, and A Touch of Cowboy. (Or another book from my back catalogue.) Good luck!

Josette and the Count

An interior decorating job in a genuine ancient Romanian castle was supposed to be the opportunity of Josette Fogal’s life. Instead, she winds up pregnant, dumped, and running home to Mission City to stay with her brother while she sorts out the mess of her life. As the birth of the baby nears, Anton Deva, her baby daddy, shows up at her doorstep—asking for a second chance. Josette has a lot of big decisions to make, and not much time to get them right. Anton’s the kind of tall, muscular, debonair man she always falls for and he’s saying all the right things, but can she ever trust him again?

Links:
UBL:  https://books2read.com/Josette
Amazon US:  https://www.amazon.com/Josette-Count-Cedar-Valley-Short-ebook/dp/B0F3MPSPNN
Add it to GoodReads:  https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/230969899-josette-and-the-count

High on Love

Kendra Barker’s a long way from her Canadian home. Her road trip has landed her and her 1983 Harley in Cataluma, California, but she only plans to stay long enough to rest, maybe make a few dollars, and enjoy the Strawberry Festival. As a bonus, the one place she finds to stay is an empty apartment with a super sexy landlord.

Javier Fernandez has been cruising through life on autopilot. His marijuana shop is doing well. His mother is, for the most part, under control and managing her job as mayor of his beloved Cataluma. Now, he just needs to get this pesky Canadian woman out of his head. He gave her a place to sleep, and he very much wants to be in her bed, but come the end of the weekend, she’ll be moving on. Javier doesn’t do one-nighters and he doesn’t want to deal with a broken heart. Long-distance, and cross-borders is a recipe for disaster, right?

High on Love is a 39k word small-town interracial romance novella with a tattooed heroine, a stoic hero, and the love affair that’ll change their lives forever.

Links:
UBL:  https://books2read.com/High
Amazon US:  https://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B0BZ2M8Z4G
Add it to GoodReads:  https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/125352653-high-on-love

About the Author

Gabbi Powell has been a lover of romance since she first put pen to paper in the eighth grade to write her first romance.  She writes her novels while living in Beautiful British Columbia with her trusty ChinPoo dog a as companion.  She also writes gay romances as Gabbi Grey and contemporary dark erotic BDSM novels as Gabbi Black.

Personal links:
Website:   http://gabbipowell.com/
Newsletter sign-up: https://sendfox.com/gabbipowell
Bookbub:  https://www.bookbub.com/profile/3142441314
Instagram:  https://www.instagram.com/authorgabbipowell/
Amazon: https://www.amazon.com/Gabbi-Powell/e/B08T8NTQNY
Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/21065056.Gabbi_Powell

I know some of you don’t watch TV. You prefer reading to television. And binge-watching series is a relatively new thing. When I was younger, I had to keep track of what day a TV show aired and keep my calendar free for that date and time to watch it. Shows like the OG Star Trek, Lost in Space, Dark Shadows, were hard-wired in my calendar, but I still missed episodes! I had to watch Buffy during its first run from the time Spike entered because I missed the previous episodes, but once it went into syndication, I had to pay attention again to when the reruns ran to watch the entire series. It was a PITA, but soooo worth it. However, I’m still a Spike girl.

These days, it’s so convenient to watch an entire series, without missing an episode, and without the week-long gap or seasonal months-long gap to keep the storyline fresh as I watch. I love it. And I have a list of shows I want to watch this summer, beginning to end, as well as seasons of shows (Dark Winds, The Bondsman—Kevin Bacon, ya’ll!). It’s a goal list. And I’m sure not many people keep such a list, but I do. I have another list of movies I can’t wait to watch once they go into streaming, but that’s a topic for another day.

The last couple of years, I watched every single Star Trek series, other than Discovery. I’m in the final season and can’t say why I haven’t buzzed through it. Maybe it’s because I stopped watching Discovery to watch Strange New Worlds. The latter is so much fun, it was impossible not to make the jump. I’ll be rewatching it this summer because sometime soon, maybe in the fall, the next season will drop, and I want to be ready.

I have a summer watch list that’s a mixture of new shows and shows that I feel some nostalgia about, like The Time Tunnel. I keep a list because my attention span is so bad, and frankly, I love lists.

My list is featured below in the word search. For a chance to win a $5 Amazon gift card, solve the puzzle, then tell me whether you have a list or single show you intend to binge-watch this summer! Have fun!

Depending on how long you’ve been reading me, you might not be aware of my naughty cowboy ménage series, Lone Star Lovers. All my sexiest fantasies are rolled up in those stories. Two cowboys, three cowboys, four… All that attention concentrated on one lucky girl… Heck, it’s not really fair, and there must be something in the water in Two Mule, Texas because there’s a whole lotta sharin’ goin’ on. 

Four-Gone Conclusion

Sometimes a cowboy needs a little help—or three brothers—to snare a wife…

Sam Logan’s boys have a bad rep in Two Mule, Texas. Most of it earned. When it becomes clear his foster sons won’t settle down without a nudge from him, he issues his challenge. Find a wife…

The oldest, Johnny, already had his eye on Mean Ellie Harker. Sam’s challenge just gave him the gumption to ask her out. However, before he makes his move, the twins kidnap Ellie from under his nose. Now, he has to compete with three brothers for the woman he wants.

Ellie thought her prospects were drying up until Johnny Logan finally untangled his tongue and asked her out. When his brothers kidnap her and take her to the ranch, she’s furious…then intrigued by the thought of four men bent on showing her what being their’s would be like.

Read an excerpt…

“I could help you, you know,” Killian said, his tone casual.

Too casual. Johnny grunted. “With what?”

“Gettin’ you a wife.”

His hands tightened on the steering wheel. “Worry about findin’ your own.”

“It’s not how it works, bro. We’re brothers.”

“We’re not blood.”

“Blood’s not what counts.”

Which was a sorry damn truth they all knew too well. Blood had failed them all.

Johnny cussed under his breath. “How would you help? You gonna chat her up for me? You gonna tell her what a catch I am?”

“Well, you are. You stand to inherit a fourth of the Double Tree. And I’ve seen the way women look at you.”
Johnny snorted.

“You’re not a bad lookin’ guy.

Johnny aimed a blistering glare his way. “You gonna ask me out?”

Killian grinned. “Just statin’ the facts. You’re not hard on the eyes. And you’re tall. Girls like that. And they like your hair. They like you fine until you give ‘em that thousand yard stare like you’re sightin’ down a rifle barrel.”

Johnny gave him his meanest glare. “This isn’t gonna work.”

Killian gave a waggle of his eyebrows. “I’ll help. What’re brothers for?”

“You’re just hoping I’ll snag a wife and that’ll be the end of it. You’ll be off the hook.”

“Maybe.”

“You think this is funny.”

“Watchin’ you tryin’ to sweet talk a woman—yeah, it’ll be the most fun I’ve had in while. So where do you wanna start?”

Johnny didn’t answer but he passed up the most obvious place. The saloon’s parking lot was already full. Instead, he turned onto main street and slowed as he searched for a parking place.

Killian straightened in his seat. “You’re not thinkin’ of Ellie, are you?”

The way Killian said it intimated he thought Johnny had lost his mind. Maybe he had. But she was the first woman he’d thought of when Sam had mentioned the stew. “She can cook.”

Killian gave an exaggerated shudder. “But she’s mean.”

“Should be perfect for me then, don’t you think?”

Killian gave a bark of laughter then crammed his cowboy hat on his head.

Johnny raked his hair with his fingers and wished he’d thought to bring a rubber band to tie it back. However, Killian had said girls liked his long, straight hair. He didn’t know why he’d kept it. It was the one most glaring trait that set him apart from his brothers. The last vestige of the heritage he’d thrown off when he’d run away from life on the reservation.

He trailed behind Killian who stepped out with a bounce in his step, likely grinning his ass off that Ellie Harker was the first woman who’d come to his mind. What he didn’t know was that Johnny had been working up the courage to ask her out, sitting in the diner week after week, but never quite finding the right way to do it.

Killian pushed through the door of the café. Johnny caught it before it slammed in his face, but didn’t say a word. Already, he could feel his body tensing at the thought of talking to the woman.

She’d taken over the running of Katie’s Diner when Katie’s belly got too big and her husband, Cutter Standifer, had insisted she hire a cook until after the birth of their first child.

Inside, the smell of freshly baked apple pie assailed him, and his belly rumbled loudly. There could be worse things than being hitched to a mean woman, especially when she could cook almost as well as Gracie.
The place was busy. Wade Luckadoo’s girl, a college kid home for the summer with a blue streaks in her white-blond hair, glided out of the kitchen with a tray balanced on one hand. “Someone’ll be right with you. Take a seat if you can find one.”

Killian headed to the counter and slid onto a stool then patted the empty one beside him. Johnny felt his face harden to stone, his usual mask in public, as he sat. From this vantage they had a view straight into the kitchen where Ellie was working.

One glance and his body stilled, breath leaving in a quiet sigh. She was a pretty woman, although her looks weren’t flashy like most men might prefer. Pale blonde hair, pretty milk-colored skin, and he didn’t need to see what stretched below. Her well-padded curves were burned into his memory.

Right now, her cheeks were rosy, a fine sheen of sweat glistening on her brow. Johnny stared, wondering, not for the first time, whether she’d taste like everything she cooked.

Ellie pushed back a lock of her pale hair that fell over her hazel eyes with the back of her hand, and then glanced up. Her startled gaze met his for second then quickly darted to his brother before falling away.

He kept right on staring, wondering how long it would be before she’d come out to check on the customers first-hand.

Killian leaned toward him to whisper. “See? She was lookin’.”

“She looked at you too. Would have looked at Ole Win’s ugly face if he’d taken a seat right in front of her.”

“But she wouldn’t have blushed.”

“She’s cookin’ over a stove. Of course her cheeks are pink.”

Killian grunted. “You are the stubbornest man I’ve ever known. She’s interested.”

Johnny didn’t like the little thrill of hope that warmed him. No use getting excited when Killian was only trying to warm him up to the challenge. “She looked at you too,” her repeated under his breath.

Killian arched a brow. “We could follow in the twin’s footsteps…”

“I’m not sharin’ a wife with you.”

“Only one of us can marry her, but seein’ as you’re a little stunted in the courtin’ arena, you might need someone watchin’ out for your interests. I can close this deal for you, bro.”

Johnny thought about all the times he’d rehearsed the perfect opening line but sat tongue-tied when Ellie’s attention landed right on him. He might need some help alright. “Say I was to agree to let you help. No one else would have to know?”

Killian’s lips curved in a sly arc. “No one other than Ellie.”

Johnny ground his teeth. “I might need a little help. The woman ties my tongue into a knot.”

“You just do what you always do. Play the silent Injun. Be mysterious. Leave the rest to me.”

Johnny didn’t like it one bit, but he didn’t see another way around it. And the last thing he’d admit to Killian was that Sam’s pronouncement had given him the nudge he’d needed. He’d had his eye on Mean Ellie Harker for weeks but hadn’t gotten up the gumption to do anything about it.

He nodded, then instantly regretted agreeing when Killian’s mouth stretched into a wider grin.

“Not a word to the twins,” he said, gritting his teeth.

“It’ll be our little secret.”

The kitchen door swung open and Ellie breezed out, a towel over her shoulder and a pitcher of water in her hand. She grabbed two tumblers from under the counter and set one in front of each man. “What can I do for you boys?”

Johnny bristled. No one called him a boy except Sam these days. And the way she said it with that wicked glint in her eyes told him she knew he didn’t like it.

Killian leaned over the counter and tilted back his head. “Sweetheart, how come no one’s married you out from under this place?”

Johnny stepped on Killian’s boot and ground his heel into his brother’s toe.

Killian grimaced but didn’t turn away from Ellie’s narrowing glance.

“Guess I’ve just been lucky,” she said, her tone brisk. “What’ll it be? We’ve got meatloaf and mac tonight.”

“Just pie. Johnny here’s been goin’ on and on about how good your pie is.”

“Has he now?” Her razor glance flicked to Johnny, and he felt its scrape against cheek. She leaned closer, her face inches from his. “What do you say, cowboy? Want me to top it with cream?”

He gulped at her throaty purr. Not a sound he’d ever heard her make. His dick stirred and his cheeks heated. “Vanilla,” he ground out.

She tsked. “A shame. Not what I had in mind at all.”

His mind went blank for second. “Um, you meant whipped?”

She gave a wicked chuckle, and his skin burned like fire.

“Now, that’s more like it,” she said, her voice deepening into husky purr again.

Beside him, Killian choked on laughter.

Ellie straightened and raised both brows. “Pie comin’ up. A la mode.” She turned on her heel, but not before he saw a hint of a smile on her face.

“Not bad, bro. Not bad at all.”

“Not bad?” Johnny growled. “She thinks I’m an idiot.”

“She was flirtin’ with you.”

“She knows I can’t get a word out that makes a lick o’ sense around her.”

Killian turned his gaze from the sashay of her pretty bottom. “She knows you’re interested.”

“How long we gotta sit here?”

“’Til this place closes down. Don’t eat that pie too quick.”

“It’ll be soggy.”

“Then get another slice.”

Johnny ducked his head and turned to watch Ellie as she refilled glasses, pausing to share a word or a quick quip. She had a way with her customers. A sassy flare. With her other customers anyway. Most times, she just ignored him. Or teased him, like tonight, until he couldn’t think he was so damn hard.

Her head tilted back in laughter at something a couple said to her. Then she turned to catch him watching her.

For once, he didn’t let his glance skitter away. He held her gaze, let her note where he looked, and then burned a slow trail down her body.

This time, he saw her throat work around a gulp.

Killian nudged him with an elbow. “Not bad, bro. Not bad at all.”

Contest

Comment for a chance to win your choice of
one of my Lone Star Lovers books!
I’ll choose TWO WINNERS!

Here are all the Lone Star Lovers books, including the prequel story set over a century ago…

Click on the covers to read more about these books!

Report Card

Last week…

1. 1. I completed one author’s edits and began work on another author’s edits.
   2. I met with my oncologist who recommended we continue with immunotherapy, and in fact, had me in the chair with an IV in my arm right after telling me everything was looking good.
   3. I’m still pacing myself between resuming work and resting when I need it. I feel stronger every day.
   4. I’ve been painting like crazy, trying to catch up with the herd for #the100dayproject. This was my favorite piece for the week. It’s terribly imperfect, but I enjoyed smudging it all up with graphite and pencil after I water colored the shell.

 

This next week…

1. I will complete one author’s edits and begin work on another project!
2. I’ll select short stories and begin assembling my next Ultra compilation for publication.
3. I have an appointment with the optometrist—which I need badly. My vision is very blurry at the moment.
4. I’ll continue trying to catch up to #thedayproject schedule.

Open Contests

Be sure to check out these posts and enter to win the prizes that are still up for grabs:

1. 1. Memory Game: My Paintings (Contest) — Last day to enter! Win an Amazon gift card!
   2. Flashback: Her Next Breath (Contest — Two Winners!) — This one ends soon! Win a FREE book, 2 winners!
   3. Saturday Puzzle-Contest: Wildflowers — This one ends soon! Win an Amazon gift card!
   4. Flashback: Her Next Breath (Contest — Two Winners!) — This one ends soon! Win a FREE book!
   5. Saturday Puzzle-Contest: Wildflowers — This one ends soon! Win an Amazon gift card!
   6. Mondays? Love ’em or Hate ’em? (Contest) — Win an Amazon gift card!
   7. Health Update & a Word Search (Contest) — Win an Amazon gift card!
   8. April Into May (Contest) — Win an Amazon gift card!
   9. Gabbi Grey: Found Family (Contest) — Win a FREE book!
   10. Anna Taylor Sweringen/Michal Scott: Laura Wheeler Waring – A Missionary of Culture — Win an Amazon gift card!
   11. Saturday Puzzle-Contest: Happy Astronomy Day! — Win an Amazon gift card!

Today is another one of those obscure, fun holidays I love to highlight here. It’s Astronomy Day! Tonight would be a lovely time to head outside—if the weather cooperates—and look up at the sky. I have a star chart to help orient me to the constellations that are visible. If you have a telescope or a nice set of binoculars, get it out, consult an astronomy app on your phone and have it help you point toward a planet that might be visible. Study the moon!

When I was a kid, I used to check out astronomy books from the library then lay outside on a blanket in the grass with a flashlight and try to find as many constellations as I could. When I lived in Texas, I once attended a Star Party, where folks who owned telescopes, some homemade, set up and let people take a peek into the heavens. It was so much fun!

For a chance to win a $5 Amazon gift card, solve the puzzle, then tell me whether you’ve ever spent time gazing at the stars, waiting for shooting stars or to see the space station or a distant planet. Share a story!

I first discovered Laura Wheeler Waring thanks to her portrait of Alice Dunbar Nelson, which I shared in my November 2024 D.D. blogpost. Then the Metropolitan Museum’s exhibit The Harlem Renaissance and Transatlantic Modernism introduced me to more of her work. Intrigued, I decided to create a post on the artist whom W.E.B. DuBois considered a “missionary of culture.”

Laura was born on May 26, 1887, in Hartford, Connecticut and came from a prominent African American family. Her father was the Reverend Robert Foster Wheeler, pastor of Talcott Street Congregational Church, the first all-black church in Connecticut. Her mother was Mary Freeman Wheeler, a teacher and amateur artist.

She greatly admired the painting of African American artist Henry O. Tanner. While attending Hartford Public High School, her own talent in painting was recognized. She graduated with honors from Hartford in 1906 and began teaching part-time at Cheyney Training School for Teachers in Pennsylvania. She matriculated into the Pennsylvania Academy of Fine Arts (PAFA), making her the sixth generation of her family to attend college. Although her heart belonged to painting, she studied illustration with Henry McCarter which along with teaching enabled her to support herself as she pursued a career in painting.

She provided many illustrations for the NACCP’s Crisis magazine. Her first Crisis cover appeared in 1913. In 1914, she was the first African American woman to receive PAFA’s A. William Emlen Cresson Memorial Travel Scholarship to study art at the Louvre in Paris. In 1920, thanks to her NAACP connections, she became the first African American to illustrate for a major mainstream publisher.

When World War I interrupted her studies in Paris, she returned to teaching at Cheney and continued there for thirty years. She took sabbaticals to return to Europe and continue perfecting her craft. She became known for murals and landscapes. During this second trip, she exhibited her work in Parisian art galleries for the first time.

In 1927, her paintings won the William E. Harmon Foundation Award in Fine Arts with a special mention for the portrait done of Anna Washington Derry, a laundress at Cheney. During Laura’s lifetime the Corcoran Gallery,  in Washington, DC, the Brooklyn Museum, and the Philadelphia Museum of Art displayed her work. In 1944, eight portraits were commissioned and shown by the Harmon Foundation in their exhibit Portraits of Outstanding Americans of Negro Origin. These are now part of the Harmon Collection in the Smithsonian’s National Portrait Gallery.

While her work was dismissed as derivative by New Negro/Harlem Renaissance esthete Alain Locke, others appreciated the dignity she gave African Americans of all classes in her portraits and illustrations.

Laura married Walter Waring in 1927 but had no children. She died in Philadelphia in 1948. Grateful Cheney graduates succeeded in having a Philadelphia public school named for her. The Connecticut Women’s Hall of Fame inducted her in 1997. You can learn more about her from PAFA’s presentation on youtube: https://youtu.be/6ltK486TaGY?si=dWfCHwt67lAqBkHV

For a chance at a $10 Amazon gift card, share your impressions of Laura Wheeler Waring in the comments.

I am adopted. I’ve known this since I was old enough to understand what that meant.  My adoptive mother (hereafter referred to as my ‘mother’) let me know that my biological mother couldn’t keep me, but that she, my mother, wanted me very much.  She also said my biological father wanted to keep me, but that, as a couple, my biological parents couldn’t make it work.  That’s a lot for a five-year-old to understand.  She also cautioned me not to tell kids I was adopted.  Now, she denies this, but it’s one of my strongest memories from just before I started school.

I was very close to my mother growing up — whether that was a good or a bad thing is left to the annals of history and my therapist.  I will say that what finally drove us apart was, in part, my mental illness.  She got tired of having a sick daughter who was always needing to be rescued.  There were some other factors, but that was the big one.  She cut me out of her life.  That was twenty years ago.

For various reasons, I was never close to my father.  He blames my mother and her parenting style.  His own shenanigans during their marriage didn’t help.  Again, water under the bridge, and yes, my therapist knows all about it.

(For the record — I joke about therapy but will say here that I come by my mental illness honestly. It comes from both sides of my biological parents’ families.  Mental illness is extremely serious and should never be taken lightly.  I take my meds, do the work with my doctor, and do regular check-ins to make sure I’m coping. For me, however, humor is part of coping.  It works for me — it doesn’t for others.

When I was eighteen, I registered with provincial authorities to meet my biological parents. That was the procedure where I lived. Then, eventually, if no match was made, the government would initiate a search.

I waited ten years — which is how long I was told it would be.

Then my cousin told me the government had searched on her behalf. The result hadn’t been all that positive, but she’d come away with crucial medical information. So not a total loss, even if her biological mother wanted nothing to do with her.

Since my cousin had registered after me, I contacted the government — to discover they had an old address.  Eventually, they initiated a search.  I won’t bore you with the details, but about the time the government was searching, my bio mom decided she was ready to look.  So the timing couldn’t have been better — earlier, she might not have been ready.  That first meeting went well, and she invited me to visit her at her home later.  My dog and I made the trek halfway across Canada, and I got to spend time with her.  I met her husband, my grandparents, and two of my three half-siblings.

The relationship became complicated from that point forward and I lost touch — that was on me.  Eventually, from that family, my grandfather passed, my bio mom passed, and then my grandmother passed the next day.  My only regret is not keeping in touch.  Those siblings and nieces and nephews are lost to me entirely.

Okay, so that was that.  Except maybe not.  In 2018, I spit in two tubes and sent those samples off to labs.  23 and Me provided genetic information as well as a DNA database (watch out, they’re in bankruptcy — I recently downloaded all my data and deleted it entirely since I can’t guarantee the next owner, if there is one, will be scrupulous with my privacy).  Ancestry also has a database, so I signed up for that.

Awkward — bio mom’s extended family contacted me.  Very curious as to who this unknown person was — they believed they knew everyone.  She hadn’t told them about me before her death.  Respecting that wish, I asked the relatives to ignore me.  They pointed out they were nice people.  I asked for respect of my wishes — they did back down.

Fast forward to late November 2021.  Someone contacted me through Ancestry.  The last name was the same as the one my bio mom told me belonged to my bio dad.  My half-sister had found me.  Discussions ensued.  Ironically, I was nervous.  What if I was a disappointment? What if they didn’t like me?

I met with my half-sister first.  Then my dad and my other half-sister.  Things sort of went sideways in my half-sister’s life, and I no longer fit into that space.  I respect that.  My other half-sister has a lot going on in her life.  Again, I understand.

That left me and my bio dad.  He came to my town a couple of times, and we shared some awkward meals.  Then one day, out of the blue, he texted me. I texted back.  Those texts increased in frequency.  Now, it’s a couple of times a week.  Recently, he asked if he could come for a twenty-four-hour visit.  Understand — people don’t come to my house, and they certainly don’t spend the night.

For him, though, I was willing to make an exception.

Again, I won’t bore you with details — but the visit went well.  I learned a ton about my family, and he got a complete picture of my life — the good, the bad, and the…WTAF?

Such is life.

I don’t know how much longer I’ll have him.  I am also much closer to my dad than before, and I don’t know how much longer I’ll have him either. I’m trying to make the most of what I do have.  I try to share my writing.  I visit when I can.  I hold them in my hearts.

Okay — that was way more than you probably wanted to know. My point?  Being adopted wasn’t a bad thing in my life.  My adopted parents were far from perfect, but I’ve had a good life. I’m the happiest I’ve ever been and so no regrets. I just happened to have gone through Hell to get here.

There are tons of found families in my stories — people who support and love my main characters when their own biological families fail them (or die…lots of parents and siblings die in accidents and of horrible diseases). I like to make my characters suffer and then have them find love — in many different forms.

Stanley’s Christmas Redemption is one of those books.  Angus, the ten-year-old, is tragically orphaned. And sure, he has his uncle, Stanley, whom he’s never meet.  But he also has his counselor, Justin.  Who eventually steps away from the therapist role and into that of stepfather (because of course Justin and Stanley fall in love).  Justin has his parents and siblings, but he also has his co-workers with whom he’s close. And then Stanley reconnects with an ex-boyfriend and, eventually, their two families draw closer. Finally, Stanley and Justin foster Opal. Now, if you read subsequent books, you discover what happens to Opal (hint: Justin, Stanley, and Angus are part of her life).

Adoption often turns out well. Found family can be more precious than blood.

You can make characters suffer and given them a happy ending.

Okay, enough about me. I’m so grateful if you’ve read all that.  To one of your readers, Delilah, I would like to gift Stanley’s Christmas Redemption as well as the three other big books in my Love in Mission City series. If the winner doesn’t want those, I can give four other books from my back catalogue.  So let me know — is there a particular book that touched you? One with an adoption, or found family, or just some group of people who are connected in a nontraditional way?  Drop me a comment and let me know.  Winner to be chosen by Random.

Stanley’s Christmas Redemption Synopsis

Stanley

I have life figured out—a good job, a nice car, and an ex-boyfriend whose heart I broke. But then my half-brother dies unexpectedly, and I go back to our hometown to settle his affairs. A quick trip before Christmas. Instead, I get the shock of my life. Do I face this new challenge or do what I’ve always done—run? Or will I stay and get to know the most amazing man I’ve ever met and take on a responsibility I’ve never dreamed of facing? This will be a holiday season like no other.

Justin

I’m a therapist who helps people deal with grief. My life is fulfilling. So what if I’ve been single for years? I have the kids I counsel and co-workers I adore. Maybe I’m tired of going home to an empty house and not looking forward to another Christmas alone. But I’m not going to be taken in by some slick city guy who can’t wait to leave town. I’m not going to upend my life just because I’ve met the man of my dreams. Right?

This is an 85k opposites-attract instalove mid-angst gay romance novel.  Previously published in the charity anthology Secret Santa: A Romance Collection, the story has quadrupled in size with more love, laughs, and a touch of Christmas magic.

Buy links:
Amazon: https://www.amazon.com/dp/B09ZD95NH7
Audible: https://www.audible.com/pd/Stanleys-Christmas-Redemption-Audiobook/B09ZBM2GJ8
Universal link:  https://books2read.com/u/mV86x2

About the Author

USA Today Bestselling author Gabbi Grey lives in beautiful British Columbia where her fur baby chin-poo keeps her safe from the nasty neighborhood squirrels. Working for the government by day, she spends her early mornings writing contemporary, gay, sweet, and dark erotic BDSM romances. While she firmly believes in happy endings, she also believes in making her characters suffer before finding their true love. She also writes m/f romances as Gabbi Black and Gabbi Powell.

Personal links:
Website: https://gabbigrey.com/
Newsletter sign-up:  https://sendfox.com/gabbigrey
Bookbub: https://www.bookbub.com/authors/gabbi-grey
Goodreads:  https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/15456297.Gabbi_Grey
Amazon Author Central: https://www.amazon.com/Gabbi-Grey/e/B07SJVFX1M
Audible Profile:  https://www.audible.com/author/Gabbi-Grey/B07SJVFX1M
Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/authorgabbigrey/