Posy Roberts writes about romantic male love. Whether her characters are family men, drag queens, or lonely men searching for connections, they all find a home in her stories.
Posy is married to a man who makes sure she doesn’t forget to eat or sleep; her daughter, a budding author and dedicated Whovian, helps her come up with character names. When Posy’s not writing, she enjoys crafting, hiking, and singing spontaneously about the mundane, just to make normal seem more interesting.
Publisher: Dreamspinner Press
Cover Artist: Maria Fanning
Beck focuses on his own healing for the first time in his life. After months of challenging his codependent tendencies and learning how to stand up for himself, Beck finally starts to trust his gut and hopes to one day love again. Timothy is patient throughout, taking care of Beck in ways no one ever has. But if Beck can’t recognize Timothy’s affection for him, it might be too late for them to move beyond friendship.
Categories:Bisexual, Contemporary, Fiction, Gay Fiction, M/M Romance, Romance
Questions for Posy:
The days are 25 hours. How do you spent that extra hour?
Sleeping, reading, or coloring. It would most definitely be something relaxing.
What is the book you would bring with you on a desert island?
Just one? That’s not fair. I think I’d rather bring no book at all if I had to choose just one, because I get sick of everything I have too much exposure to. You can find me by the beach writing words into the sand with a stick though. That way I can have all the stories I want. In the morning they’ll be washed away and I can start again.
When and why did you begin writing?
I’ve been writing forever, but most was done in academic settings. I dabbled with poetry, short stories, and some failed attempts at fiction, but school was always more important. At age 30 I had my daughter, who was very ill, so my focus went into my family. I started blogging to deal with the stress and monotony of being a stay-at-home-mom to a sick little girl in a small town where nothing ever happened. Thankfully that resolved, but when I was 38, I got very sick. I was bedbound, yet my mind was constantly going. I started reading voraciously. When I wasn’t finding the stories I wanted to read, I decided to take a stab at writing one. And I kept writing and writing until I decided to submit Fall Into You to Dreamspinner Press. Today, I can’t imagine my life without writing fiction.
Before I had a chance to shut the front door, the sound of Brady choking on his own vomit pierced my eardrums. I was in our bedroom within seconds to witness him take what ended up being his last breath. Immediately I rolled him to his side to help him clear his airway. He flopped onto his back.
Abdominal thrusts. I slapped his face and shouted his name.
I followed the directions the dispatcher gave me on speakerphone, putting my effort into every motion as tears ran down my face.
“The paramedics are on their way. Do you hear the sirens yet?”
“Yes,” I said as I used my full weight to come down on Brady’s torso, trying to dislodge whatever particle had stopped all air from moving in and out of his lungs.
Nothing helped. He just stared up at me with glazed-over eyes and refused to breathe.
“Goddammit. Don’t you dare leave me like this!”
I blankly watched as the paramedics swarmed into the bedroom, shooing me away so they could assess Brady’s condition, and I saw the grim looks on their faces when they realized what had really happened. The frenzied activity ceased, and their demeanor changed the second they found the syringe, spoon, and lighter.
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