New Release | Nine-Tenths by J.M. Frey #romantasy #queer #queerromantasy #newrelease #mustread
- N. N. Light
- Jun 30
- 6 min read
Title – Nine-Tenths
Author – J.M. Frey
Genre – Queer Contemporary Romantasy
Publisher – Here There Be Publishing
Book Blurb –
Colin Levesque is at loose ends. He’s finished university, but has no career; he adores romance novels, but he’s crap at relationships; and his prickliness is a detriment at the café where he’s making ends meet. He also has a crush on his regular Dav, a homo draconis who comes in every morning to read his newspaper, sip his double-strong coffee, and stare longingly at Colin in return.
So it figures that the day Colin gets up the courage to do something about the sexual tension simmering between them, he also learns that Dav has an embarrassing habit of hiccupping fire when he’s nervous. Which, in this case, destroys the fancy custom-made bean roaster. When Dav volunteers to take over the coffee roasting with his fire-breath, being squished together in the hot, cramped kitchen leads to even hotter kisses.
Everything’s finally happening for Colin—until people start claiming the dragon-roasted coffee has cured their genetic ailments. As their budding relationship struggles under the scrutiny of scientists and media, the hype around the coffee leads the lovers to be inducted into a centuries-old conspiracy: dragon-roasted food has always healed humans. And the most powerful draconic nobles have been withholding this symbiotic advantage to keep themselves on top. Colin and Dav are determined to expose the truth, but if they’re not careful, their objections could goad power-mad monarchs into destroying everything they hold dear.
Including each other.
Excerpt –
The conversation about food allergies and my Mum's advice takes us through to the bottom of a second bottle of wine, and I am more than tipsy enough to lean heavily on Dav as he walks me home.
"Do dragons get drunk?" I ask, watching my footing on the uneven sidewalk.
"Of course," Dav says, bending in closer to my ear to whisper. "But not on so little."
I snort at the thought of Dav sitting at the table in the fancy Italian Bistro drinking wine out of the bottle with a crazy straw.
Dav favors me with an indulgent smile that I want to taste. He paid, too, and wouldn't let me leave anything but our tip, and only when I argued that it's not fair to the power balance of our relationship if he's going to be the one handling all the expenses. He's pouting now, actually pouting.
I want to bite his lip.
"C'mon, man." I butt his shoulder with my forehead and give him my best Bambi-eyes. "Stop moping."
"I understand your concerns," Dav protests. He's taller than me, but only by enough for my eyes to be exactly level with his mouth. He licks his lips and a hot thread of desire unspools from the base of my neck, curling into my pelvis. "But Colin, please. I am wealthy, with little to do but to figuratively sit upon it. I am happy to stimulate the local economy. And, of course, it's satisfying."
"Feeding me all day is satisfying?"
Does he mean sexually?
It'd be weird if he meant sexually, right?
That should be a turn off, a red flag, potentially a sign of a controlling partner.
Unless it's kinky?
"Colin, you remember what I said about the deep ingrained need to be in service all dragons have?"
It is kinky.
Also, turns out, not a turn off.
"I remember. It's just... I don't want you to serve me."
He flinches, neck scrunching unattractively and I wonder what that little fat roll tastes like. Salt and brimstone? I could push him under one of the trees lining the sidewalk, get my tongue under his ear and if the shadows are thick enough, flick open his fly and—
Down boy.
"Not like that," I add, when the hurt look flashes in his eyes again. "Not like… ugh. I don't want you to think you have to serve to be around me."
"I like it, though," Dav says. "Draconic instincts dictate—"
"No, I get it." I pull us to a stop now, at the bottom of the crooked cement porch that leads up to my rental. I take one step up. It makes him have to tilt his chin up, and I like this angle. It's intimate, as if I was sitting on his lap.
I want to invite him in. I don't know if I should, though. I like him too much to want to have sex with him on the first date.
Does that make sense?
I'm going to decide that it makes sense.
"I don't think you do."
"I want you to like spending time with me. Not because your draconic instincts tell you that you're supposed to provide for me. But because you want to be here."
Dav's free hand brushes my arm where the punctures were, lingering. Then he cups the side of my face, the tip of his thumb tracing the outline of my bottom lip. His eyes are on my mouth, but he's not doing anything.
He's listening.
He's giving me space to finish my thoughts.
F*ck, that's sexy.
"I don't want you because you're a dragon," I whisper in the quiet evening darkness. I set my palms on his hips, under his jacket. "I don't want the pile of gold, or the perks of being on your arm." I wish I was feeling bold enough to slip my fingers up under his waistcoat, feel the warmth of him through the thin material of his shirt. "I just want Dav."
"Good Lord," Dav whuffs out, as if I've punched him in the gut.
I don't have time to ask him what he means, because then his mouth is on mine.
Finally.
His lips are soft, and he slides both of his hands across my cheeks to cup the back of my head, to direct the kiss, and I let him because it's so good. I don't know how long I've wanted this but it must have been longer than I thought. Since before the hospital waiting room and his posh voice reading me a love story, since before the ambulance and giggling while a paramedic glared at us, since before burned metal and fire and blood, since before rude words at a door.
Maybe even since before I ever met him.
Because this feels right, and his tongue is wet and soft when he licks my bottom lip carefully, once. I open up to him, invite him inside, but then the absolute bastard lets go and takes a step back. I try to cling to his belt but he's too quick, and my fingers are kiss-stupid.
"Whuh?" I manage to say, ever so intelligently, cranking my eyes open.
Dav is rumpled. His mouth is wet and red. I lean in to keep going, to give at least as good as I got, but he ducks his head and chuckles.
"Good night, Colin. See you tomorrow."
"You could see me more right now," I whine. I have completely changed my mind about not wanting to have sex with him tonight—now I like him too much to let him go.
"No," he says gently. He takes my hand and kisses the back of it, and then he's off down the street, strolling towards where I assume he parked his car.
"You're an asshole and I hate you!" I call after him.
"No, you don't!" he calls back, raising one hand in a fond salute.
Buy Links (including Goodreads and BookBub) –
Kindle: https://amzn.to/4m642oR
Author Biography –
J.M. Frey is an author and lapsed academic. She writes queer speculative fiction and fantasy, both fabulist cozy romances and high fantasy epics. Her debut novel TRIPTYCH was nominated for two Lambda Literary Awards and garnered a place among the Best Books of 2011 from Publishers Weekly, and her most recent novel TIME AND TIDE was named one of The New York Times’ Best Romances of the Year. Her life’s ambition is to step foot on every continent – only three left! She lives in Toronto where she is surrounded by houseplants, because she is allergic to anything with fur. Like her main character, she is also allergic to chocolate. But not wine.
Social Media Links –
@J.M.Frey on TikTok, Instagram, Threads, and BlueSky
