House of the Rising Son by Trevann Rogers is a Wintertime Reading Event pick #uf #urbanfantasy #lgbtq #giveaway
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  • N. N. Light
    • Jan 26
    • 6 min read

House of the Rising Son by Trevann Rogers is a Wintertime Reading Event pick #uf #urbanfantasy #lgbtq #giveaway



Title: HOUSE OF THE RISING SON

 

Author: Trevann Rogers

 

Genre: LGBT Urban Fantasy

 

Book Blurb:

 

Cheyenne is a half-human incubus whose star is on the rise in the Unakite City rock scene. His father, the leader of the supernatural races, would prefer he keep a “low profile”, but screw that. Cheyenne has as much music in his veins as royal incubi blood.

 

Alexander's future is all set: finish law school, join the family firm, and marry someone who'd be good for business. Not that he has a say in any of it. He's barely met the woman his father expects him to marry. Keeping the peace is his priority. Until he meets Cheyenne.

 

If secrets are kept, they can never be together. If their secrets are exposed, chaos will reign in both families.

 

Either way, life will never be the same.

 

House of the Rising Son is the first book in the LGBTQIA+ urban fantasy series Living After Midnight. Warning: This book features quirky supernatural creatures, a Thanksgiving dinner that makes the Inquisition look like a tea party, and an incubus that will rock your world.

 

Excerpt:

 

     The beginning of a show was one of Alexander’s favorite parts.

 

      He was also partial to the middle and the end. But Alexander didn’t applaud and stomp and scream in anticipation like the rest of the crowd. He was grateful to be able to keep his composure, but the truth was, it was all he could do to remember to breathe.

 

     With a burst of light and a thunderous chord, Cheyenne appeared at center stage, arms out from his sides. An ethereal white light illuminated him. A rock and roll messiah.

 

      The band started a song Alexander didn’t recognize, but it didn’t matter. It would be one of his favorites by the time it was finished. In the meantime, he couldn’t take his eyes away from Cheyenne’s hands. They were graceful, almost feminine, except for the strong fingers and wide knuckles. He watched them stroke the microphone stand upward and down again.

 

      It was an obscene gesture, out of place against the divine imagery from moments earlier.

 

      “Do you want me, Unakite? ‘Cause I want you!” Cheyenne called from the stage.

 

      Alexander shifted positions and loosened his tie. He needed to relax. It was a trick of voice, an illusion of the concert atmosphere, surprising for sure in this small dive of a club. The words were not for him, couldn’t possibly be for him.

 

      He swallowed his bourbon in two gulps and wiped his mouth with the cuff of his dress shirt, wincing as he remembered too late it was his favorite Hugo Boss.

 

      The house lights came on and Alexander rubbed his eyes, trying to force them to adjust. He squinted, focusing in time to see Pete leaving the club with his arm around the girl he’d been dancing with all night. No surprise there. He assumed Todd and Bradley had hooked up too.

 

      “Last call! Need one for the road?”  The waitress leaned over Alexander and picked up his glass. She took her time swiping the moisture off. She took her time swiping the moisture off the table, the swell of her breasts moving hypnotically in front of him, just inches from his nose.

 

      “Uh, no. I mean yes. How about a Coke? Lots of ice.”

 

      The waitress pursed her lips. “You’re driving, right? I’ll bring you some chips or something too. My mama always said nothing sobers you up faster than a full stomach.” Alexander reached into his back pocket.

 

      “No, this is on me. ‘Sides, your tips are getting my hair and nails done tomorrow.” Ann leaned into Alexander and whispered into his ear, “Now it is my turn to do something nice for you.”

 

      She stepped back and screamed across the room, “Hey, Cheyenne! Someone here you’ve got to say hello to. Favor to me, darlin’!”

 

      Alexander jumped to his feet, almost knocking over his chair. He hoped his voice was steadier than the panicked tone in his head. “Please don’t, it isn’t necessary. It’s fine. I don’t want to bother—”

 

      “Don’t be silly. He needs to meet a fan as big as you are. I don’t think you’ve missed a weekend in months. Cheyenne! Come on out here!”

 

      A slow rhythmic click-clack of heels announced Cheyenne’s arrival before he came into view at the front of the stage. “Damn, woman, I thought I was loud.” He leaped off the stage.

 

      “Don’t be mean. You know you love me.”

 

      “Only when you want me to. So who’s your friend?”

 

      “Just your biggest fan ever. Cheyenne, this is Alexander. Alexander, Cheyenne.” Ann winked at him. “I’m going to grab that soda for you. And you—” She pointed at Cheyenne. “Be nice.”

 

      On stage, the musician seemed larger than life, but he didn’t reach Alexander’s shoulders. He was solid, but slight compared to Alexander. Except his extraordinary eyes. Forest green, they were too intense, his lashes too long. Set against golden brown skin, they drew Alexander in, until every pint of blood in his body rushed south of his navel.

 

      What was he? Fourteen?

 

      Alexander fought the urge to follow Ann to the bar. He was about to lose the battle when Cheyenne broke the silence.

 

      “You seem familiar. Have you met me before?”

 

      Alexander cocked his head. “Interesting way to put that, but no, I haven’t. My boys and I hang here most weekends, so you might have seen us around. I mean, I don’t go to clubs all the time. Not that there is anything wrong with that. I know you play in clubs. Work. You work in clubs, or at least this club.”

 

      Alexander could feel the sweat forming on his brow. “I work. I’m a student. Unakite U. Law School. Which is hard and you know the saying, all work and no play. Not that what you do isn’t hard. It’s amazing, I mean…”

 

      He took a deep breath. He appreciated that the laughter in Cheyenne’s eyes didn’t manifest. “I’ll start again. Your show’s great.” He added, “But I’m sure you hear that all the time.”

 

      “Doesn’t hurt to hear it again. It’s all good. Thanks.”

 

      Alexander was laid bare by the way Cheyenne looked at him. He put his hands in his pockets and shifted his gaze from the musician.

 

      Cheyenne cleared his throat. “Alexander, right? Listen, I have to finish packing my shit

      up and get out of here. Things to see, people to do.”

 

“No doubt.” Alexander extended his hand, wiped it on his pant leg and extended it again.

 

      “No offense, but I don’t shake hands.” Cheyenne held up his hands. “My bread and butter.” He made a fist and offered it in consolation. “Fist bump?”

 

     Alexander relaxed, surprised at the unexpected “just one of the guys” gesture. “It was good to meet you.” With comic slow motion, he touched his fist to Cheyenne’s, feeling gigantic in comparison.

 

      He watched the smaller man disappear behind the stage curtain. Sagging into his chair, he hoped Ann had the foresight to bring something stronger than soda.

 

Buy Links (including Goodreads and BookBub):

 

 

 

 

 

 


What makes your featured book a must-read?

 

House of the Rising Son is an urban fantasy about found family and unexpected love. Cheyenne would tell you it’s about sex, redemption, and rock and roll. I can’t argue with that.

 

Giveaway – 

 

Enter to win a $20 Amazon gift card:

 

 

Open Internationally.

 

Runs January 23 – January 29, 2024.

 

Winner will be drawn on January 30, 2024.

 


Author Bio:

 

Trevann Rogers writes rock star romances, urban fantasy, and LGBT paranormal romances. Her books include HOUSE OF THE RISING SON,  AFTER MIDNIGHT: The Beginning, and her newest release, WAITING FOR THE SON.

 

Her short stories, All One of You and Indigo Dreams are available on Amazon. Her work also appears in the anthologies Dangerous Curves Ahead: An Anthology, and Wickedly Ever After.

 

Each story incorporates an unquenchable addiction to music and Trevann's love for vampires, Weres, incubi and rock stars. She writes long after the sun goes down because, like these elusive creatures, she learned long ago that sometimes being yourself means Living After Midnight.

 

Trevann lives in Connecticut with Toby, her 10-year-old rescue puppy, and Lil Monkey, a sock monkey who thinks he's real but refuses to chip in on the mortgage.

 

Trevann's internet home is www.trevannrogers.com/about

 

Social Media Links:

 

For up-to-date information about releases: Living After Midnight

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