Available for Preorder: A Holland and a Fighter

The 18th book is coming right on the heels of Make Waves. The release date will be July 15, 2019! If you like to feel your books, you will want to read this one.

Here are the preorder links for the Kindle ebook and the signed paperback. You can add it on Goodreads, too!

Want to know what it’s about?

Holland.
It wasn’t the name I was born with, but it was a gift that was given to me at the age of four. On that birthday, I didn’t know what it meant to be a Holland, but over the next thirty-something years, there would be many lessons taught by a generous and adoring family. To be a Holland means to accept differences. To compromise. To listen, but to also speak your mind. To appreciate the world around you. To give back.
To be a Holland means to love.

Fighter.
I was never the fighter in my family. If there was a pacifist among the brothers, it would be me. I was the peacekeeper. The unifier. The one who was charged with keeping the family together; but in that very challenge, was it not a fight? The struggle may not often be a brawl, but there’s always hardship. This I know too well. To be a fighter means to face adversity. To do the unexpected. To stand alone. To have courage and strength of character. To prove everyone wrong.
To be a fighter means to live.

This is a story of love, life and the unexpected events that force us to fight for both.

Now… I’ve had quite a few readers ask me, “who’s this book about?” What?! Really? I didn’t mean to be coy; I had no intention to tease anyone with this. I felt like both sections gave plenty of clues to anyone who really knows my characters.

And I guess that’s the point with this book: you need to know the characters. You can’t pick up and start with this one. Just like with Make Waves, A Holland and a Fighter is not a standalone* or an entry-point** into my books.

To answer the question, this book is mainly Livvy and Jon’s, but… you get special cameos from no less than nine other characters from various other books in my library. This is the reason that I recommend readers read all of my other books before reading A Holland and a Fighter to get the full impact of the story.

Now, if you haven’t done that, and let’s say you’ve only read the Emi Lost & Found series and the Choisie series, I think you’ll follow along just fine… you’ll just be farther in the future than you may have expected, and the relationships between characters will be more developed and, likely, more complicated than you may remember. There may also be some children you haven’t met yet. 😉 You’ll figure that out.

At the bare minimum, though, you need to have read the Emi and Choisie series.

If you liked the Emi Lost & Found series and the way it made you feel, I think you will want to check this one out. Once again, here are the preorder links for the Kindle ebook and the signed paperback.

*Books that can be read as a standalone: Not Today, But Someday; Number Seven; Contessa; Crossroads; Love Like We Do (side a); Love Will; In the Wake of Wanting

**Books that are entry-points into different series: Not Today, But Someday; Lost and Found; Contessa; Crossroads; Love Like We Do (side a)

You can buy/read all my books on Kindle!

Make Waves Excerpt: Supplemental Oysters

First off? If you came here from LinkedIn, this is my PERSONAL blog… and this character, Max Scott? He has no filter and no boundaries. Read at your own risk. I’m not remotely joking. Also? He might be my favorite character. Judge me if if you will. And with that…

I try to maintain a neutral expression as I look over the menu. I never pay the check when Callen and I go out. Ever. And when I go out with Trey and Coley, it’s a casual thing. Nothing fancy. But with Callen, normally with the pricier places, they don’t put the prices on the menu. He just knows the prices going in, like it’s given to rich people with their birth certificates at the hospital. I guess he researches online, but whatever. I’ve seen the totals from time-to-time, and never have I thought any piece of food, no matter how tasty, was worth the money he’s spent on it.

Unlike other places, Per Se is proud of their products and what they charge for them. My eyes can’t seem to leave the numbers beside the Prix Fixe at the bottom of the page. It’s absolutely insane.

“Do you know what you want?” he asks, sitting in the seat next to me. “Or have any questions?”

Are you fucking out of your mind?

“Uhhh.” I scan the menu, seeing multiple items with the word supplemental beneath them–and what appear to be prices. “Does the word supplemental mean what I think it means?”

He laughs lightly. “Yes, Max. Get over it.”

“Oh, this is sooo shit’s not happening. Pinch me. Get me out of this… weird purgatorial dining hall, where the food is amazing but every entree is served with a side of immense remorse and the memories of your poor and unfortunate childhood and all the friends you left behind in Queens.”

“Funny, I’m having carrots with mine.”

I glare over at him and scan everything, doing some quick math. Leaning over and whispering to him, I ask, “So, you’re telling me that one of us–one of us–could end up spending 725 dollars on one meal?”

“That will probably be me, yes. You’re welcome to, but I know you don’t like foie gras.”

“I don’t even know what that is, so I’ll save you another 175,” I tell him, nodding my head in disbelief. I hold up my menu to shield my mouth from the rest of the dining room. “Wasteful,” I mouth silently.

“Worth it,” he says, taking my menu and holding my hand. He looks up at the waiter, who I didn’t even know had approached our table. “Max, did you want to start with the oysters or scallops?”

Knowing the scallops were supplemental, I feel immense guilt when I respond. “Scallops.” Oysters have never really been my thing.

“Two scallops. We’ll figure the rest out in the meantime.”

“Yes, Mr. McNare.”

“Babe,” he says, leaning in. “You know I don’t feel an ounce of guilt spending money like this. Just let it go, okay? Forget the prices. Forget the chef’s ego, because it’s obviously huge, right?”

I nod.

“Tell me you won’t remember this night.”

I run my fingers through my hair. “The shock has left a mark, yes. The way you look,” I tell him, giving him a once-over. I swallow, shake my head and sigh. “Very memorable, too. You look… like someone I shouldn’t be dating, that’s for sure. I mean, I finally get the Adonis thing. He’s definitely here. In the flesh. Let’s get you codpiece and call it a day.”

“Why the codpiece? In the statue, he’s completely nude.”

“Then…” I reach for his tie, but he stops me, laughing, before I get my hands on it.

“Behave.” He takes my hand again and holds his menu up in front of me. “Figure it out.”

“Already know.” He points out his guesses, nailing them all. “I’m too predictable.” I dip my head in shame.

“Just because I know what you eat doesn’t make you any less spontaneous. You keep me guessing all the time. Believe me. I wish I could do more of that.”

“I think you have lately.” I nod. “My birthday present? Come on. No clue.”

“Gifts don’t count. They’re supposed to be surprises.”

Our waiter delivers our first course and refills my water. “Thanks,” I tell him, smiling. Curiously, I compare my dish with Callen’s.

“Did you order a supplemental oyster?” I point to the offending shellfish on my plate that’s somehow arranged beautifully among the rest of the food.

He shakes his head.

“You want it?” I pick it up with my spoon and fork and start to pass it over to his plate. He stops me with his hand.

“No!” he says. “Don’t. Put it back.”

“Okay.” I shrug.

“Eat your scallops.” He points at my food with his fork just before he takes a bite. “Man. They’re amazing. Taste.”

“Maybe worth 50 supplemental bucks, but I don’t know about 60,” I tease him after eating one. He rolls his eyes. “Fifty-five, tops.”

“We can take it off his tip,” Callen says, looking at me with a straight face.

“Fuck that, he’s been super nice.” I take a drink and choke on my water, realizing the tip situation. “Do you tip 20 percent on top of the total bill?”

“At least, yes, Max.”

“Why am I doing social work when I could wait tables at a swanky place like this?”

“Well, you needed the waiter’s help putting the cloth napkin in your lap to eat; how many other etiquette rules do you think you’d have to catch up on?”

“Ahhh, fuck that.” Etiquette-wise, I know to speak softly and close to my boyfriend when I feel the need to curse. I can control it; but in context here, it’s definitely needed. “I didn’t need to do that with my napkin. I can feed myself with a 98 percent success rate of getting food into my mouth. Plus, my customers could behave how they wanted.”

“Then you’d lose all the other customers who come here expecting a certain level of decorum.”

“And fuck them.”

When I’m finished with my scallops, I put my knife and fork on my plate properly to signal that the waiter can take my plate–both at 4:20. Like that was hard to remember.

When Gerald comes, though, he only takes Callen’s plate. “Didn’t I do it right?” I ask.

“I guess you didn’t finish,” he says. “That supplemental oyster is still there. I know you hate for things to go to waste. Maybe Gerald knows that about you, too. You’re pretty outspoken with your environmentalism.”

“Seriously? You eat it. I don’t want it. I’ll gag.”

“How can you gag over an oyster when you can take me so easily?” he asks. I glare at him. “Open it and I’ll take it. It’s already cracked. You just have to pry it up.”

I pick up my utensils again and stick the fork into it, expecting a little bit of a struggle. There’s really no prying; it easily lifts.

And there’s no oyster.

Read the rest on May 1! Preorder now! Make Waves ©2019 Lori L. Otto

Make Waves Excerpt: Dinner at Mom’s

I haven’t put out snippets or anything for Make Waves, and I thought, “That’s not fair…” So, today’s the day I fix that. Here’s a scene with the Scott brothers and their mom. The narrator for this is Max.

The next night, Will, Jon and I are at Mom’s for dinner. She didn’t cook; Will brought something that smells amazing from Shea’s test kitchen. It doesn’t really matter what it is–I know it will be locally sourced, healthy and delicious.

Mom has more color in her face than I’ve seen in a while, and more energy, too. Even though I offer to set the table, she insists that I allow her to be useful while she can be.

While Will follows his wife’s specific instructions for reheating the dishes, Jon and I sit in the living room and catch up. “How’s home life?” I ask him. “All the girls?”

He nods. “We’re all good. Liv says hi. The girls miss you and Callen. You guys need to come over.”

“After the trip to Washington,” I tell him. “We’ll take them out to dinner or something.”

“Oh, they’d love that.”

“Any talk of… more kids?”

He laughs. “Livvy and Shea are plotting. They have a grand plan to raise one at the same time.” He rolls his eyes.

“You don’t want to have another one?”

“Oh, I’d like to… maybe try for a boy. I’d be fine with either. But Shea and Will aren’t ready yet. Sorry. Will isn’t ready yet. He’s going to go work with NASA and the Fermi team next year, and that may put him out of the country for a few months. He doesn’t want to leave Shea on her own.”

“Yeah, I forgot about that.”

“But our brother’s going to work with NASA,” he says, nodding with a prideful grin. I smile, too. “Are you looking forward to your trip? When do you leave?”

“Sunday morning, and fuck yeah. I cannot wait.”

“How’s your arm feel?”

I flex my fingers and wrist. “It’ll be fine,” I tell him with a cocky expression. “Holding a paddle’s easy. The motion only bothers it a little.”

“Good.”

“Why don’t you guys get off your asses and eat before I take it all?” Will says loudly from the kitchen.

“Will, stop,” Mom admonishes him, even though he was joking and neither of us took him seriously. Of course, we are going to the dining room table to get our fair share.

Jon offers Mom the chair between him and me, smirking at Will and me because we didn’t think of it first. It wasn’t that he was simply the first. Will and I were sitting down. We literally didn’t think of it.

“Thank you, Jonny,” she says.

“You’re welcome, Mom.”

“You look really nice today, Mom,” I tell her.

“I already told her that,” Will says, just to be troublesome.

“Me, too,” Jon pipes up.

“So? Can’t I tell her, too? I was gonna say so earlier, Mom, but Will wouldn’t shut his fat, fucking mouth.”

“Whoooooa!” Jon and Will both shout. Will shakes his head in mock disapproval.

She laughs at us.

“Sorry, Mom,” I say, smiling sheepishly and giving her a peck on the cheek.

“It wouldn’t be a family dinner without the cursing,” she says, patting my leg. “I gave up long ago. Can I say grace, though? To balance it out?”

She prays while the rest of us listen; she knows we all have our own beliefs or disbeliefs, and at this point in her life, she’s accepted all of us as we are. After switching churches about five years ago, her outward views changed, and love and tolerance became her new core values.

“Amen,” she says. Jon and I say it with her; Will nods.

All three of us make sure Mom has food on her plate before we take any, so at least we’re all in sync there. Once we all start eating, my mother glances at each of us and smiles.

“I got my results back yesterday.”

Jon sets down his fork. “Mom, I was going to go with you. You were supposed to call me.”

“I wanted to go alone, Jonny. It’s okay.”

She swallows and closes her eyes for a second; her lashes become wet with tears.

“What is it, Mom?” Will asks.

“There is good news,” she starts. “The TACE did what it was supposed to do. It shrank the tumors in my liver.”

“That’s great,” I say, holding her hand. It’s very cold.

She crinkles her nose and one of the tears drips down her cheek. “But the prognosis isn’t any better. In fact, my liver function is worse… he says one to three years.”

I bite my lip to keep from crying. My brothers maintain stoic looks.

“What can we do?” Jon asks. “What’s left?”

“He said we could go through another round of TACE in a few months and see if that can shrink it further–”

“Then we’ll do that.”

“But the damage is done.” She shakes her head, releasing my hand and taking her napkin to wipe her nose. “At the most, it could add six months. It’s a waste of money–”

“Money shouldn’t be a consideration here, Mom,” Will says. “Any of us can help you now. You just have to look past your pride.”

“I don’t want it!” she says loudly.

“I don’t care!” he argues. “I’ll find a way to give it to you. That’s not going to be the reaso–”

“The treatment, Will.” Her voice is soft. Her shoulders slump. “I don’t care about the money. I’m tired of feeling sick, and those treatments make me feel like I’ve poisoned myself. I feel better without them, regardless of what they do. They’re not helping like we want them to.”

“But you could have more time with us.” I stare at her, not understanding.

“What do you think that last six months is going to be like, honey? Do you expect quality time with me?”

“But you’ll have six more better months before that,” I argue, unable to stop the tears.

“Maybe,” she says. “Maybe. But then I have to endure months of the procedure again, and the illness and recovery from that again. Do you see how this works?

“Max, I don’t want to be a burden.”

“You wouldn’t be,” I tell her. Jon and Will seem to know something else.

“I’ll be a burden you love; a burden you won’t mind bearing, but a burden nonetheless. This is my fate, but, boys,” she says, now looking at all of us, “I wanted you all to know that I am grateful of how my life has turned out. I owe it all to you.” Jon hands her another tissue. “I was a burden you all hated before.”

“That’s not true,” Jon says. I shake my head. Will looks down at the table; we all know their relationship was much more strained than ours.

She huffs and smiles, waiting for Will to look up. When he finally does, she continues. “I love you.”

“I love you, too, Mom.” His eyes water as he starts tugging on his hair.

“I love all of you.”

“We love you,” Jon and I both tell her, hugging her from both sides.

“But I could have a good three years left in me, right? If tonight is any indication, I would say that’s definitely happening.” She picks up her fork and takes a bite. “I feel better than I have in a very long time.”

“That’s really good,” my oldest brother says, sighing. My brothers and I look at one another before we start eating again. I’m not as hungry as I was earlier, but I pick at the good food, forcing myself to eat it because I don’t want it to go to waste.

“There’s one last thing,” Mom says when we finish. “Jon, can you make some coffee? Decaf?”

“Uh… now?”

“Yes, please. I have some homemade zucchini bread in the oven, too, if you want to heat that up.”

The dining room table is still in the kitchen, so Jon isn’t too far while Mom continues talking.

“I want you two to reach out to your father.” She takes a sip of her water while Will and I stare at her, mouths agape. “Sometime. It doesn’t have to be now, but I will rest easy knowing that things are settled between you three.”

“As far as I’m concerned, Mom, things are settled,” Will says, standing and picking up his and Jon’s plates.

“Sit down,” she tells him. “Jonny can clear the table. You cooked.”

I look up to see Jon leaning against the counter, his arms crossed, his eyes on us. He’s not in any hurry to do chores. Even though he doesn’t share the same father Will and I do, he knows the pain The Asshole has caused us, and he will stand united in any decision we make.

He disowned me, Mom. Remember?” I ask. “Because I’m queer.”

“No, because he’s ignorant,” she argues. “I want you to be the bigger person.” When neither of us says anything, she continues. “I have his number. He lives in a trailer home in Divide, Colorado.”

“We know,” Will and I say.

“How do you know?”

“Doesn’t matter.” He shifts in his chair, leaning back. “All I can say is it’s Max’s call. It will always be Max’s decision, and I don’t have any say in the matter.”

“Hard pass.” I shake my head. “I’m dead to him; he’s dead to me.”

“But he’s not dead, and I’m afraid you’ll regret that decision when he is,” she says.

“Will he? If died, would he care?”

“Don’t even say that… but it doesn’t matter what he has to live with for eternity. I care about you.”

“Mom…” Everyone can hear the minor annoyance in my voice.

“It will put my mind at ease,” she says. “Even if you don’t believe in it, I still do.”

It’s not that I don’t believe in it; it’s that I have plenty of time to figure out what I believe, that’s all. I’m just not committing to anything yet.

I give it about two seconds’ thought. “I can’t, Mom.”

She looks at Will. “No.” He shakes his head.

Glancing up at my oldest brother, she pleads with him. “Jon, please do something?”

“Mom, there’s nothing I can say.” He goes back to making her coffee, and Will and I clear the table, trying not to let the awkwardness ruin our night.

Make Waves ©2019 Lori L. Otto 

Are you ready to read? Get Love Like We Do (side a), Love Like We Do (side b), (It Happened) One Friday and In the Wake of Wanting… or check out ALL of my books!

Pre-order Make Waves today!

Excerpt: In the Wake of Wanting – “Hashtag”

I’ve got another (brief) surprise for you! It’s excerpt time! Make sure you preorder In the Wake of Wanting on Kindle US, Kindle UK, or iBooks today!

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It takes four hours for everyone to clear out of my apartment, including five investigators who swept the place and removed the camera after they checked for prints. My parents offered to take Coley’s out to lunch while Danny went to spend the afternoon combing through a week’s worth of security footage to find evidence of Evan Midland, the paparazzo who threatened me last week, somehow getting into my apartment. The building management, staff and doormen were of no help. The fact is, people slip by all the time, riding up the elevator with other residents. It’s not the most secure building. It’s not like Liv’s building, where you have to have a special key to get to her floor–granted, Dad owns the floor, and he took that safety measure himself.

It was my choice to rent while I’m in college, and while my father was able to make some modifications to the building by adding security cameras in the hallway, there wasn’t much more he could do. My own alarm system should have done the trick. The failure in that is what needs to be investigated.

Not ready to go out in public, Coley and I stay in. Teri and Pryana bring a few of Coley’s things from her dorm, as well as lunch that I’d ordered from Dig Inn. I’m addicted, and I’m making an addict out of my girlfriend, too. It’s all locally-sourced and relatively healthy, so I don’t figure it’s a problem.

“Has anyone at Carman Hall seen the video?” Coley asks her roommate. Teri’s expression says it all. That everyone has seen it. “I can’t go back there.”

“Everyone thinks… y’all released it,” she admits.

“What?” I ask, halting my task of setting the table. “Shit, are you kidding?” Teri shakes her head. “I don’t want anyone thinking that.”

“Trey, you have over 800,000 Twitter followers. Why don’t you say something about it?”

“Because I use that for my blog. I use it to share useful information and to raise awareness about issues in our community.”

“But you have a captive audience,” Pryana says. “Have you checked Twitter today?”

“Hell, no,” I say with a laugh.

“Well. You’re the top trending topic. You even have a hashtag.”

“I don’t want to know.”

“Hashtag TreyGoesDown,” she announces anyway. Coley covers her face.

“Well if that isn’t a dickish hashtag… makes you wonder who came up with that? Evan Midland himself?”

 

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In the Wake of Wanting ©2016 Lori L. Otto