Book Title: Crystal’s House of Queers
Author: Brooke Skipstone
Publisher: Skipstone Publishing
Cover Artist: Cherie Chapman @ccbookdesign
Release Date: May 24, 2021
Genres: LGBTQ Fiction, Lesbian Fiction/Suspense, Lesbian Romance, Lesbian Coming of age
Tropes: Friends to lovers, found family, coming of age, power femme
Themes: Coming out, forgiveness, no secrets, overcoming past abuse, fight because we love
Length: 93 000 words/ 330 pages
It is a standalone story.
Buy Links – Available in Kindle Unlimited
Three senior girls in rural Alaska escape their abusive pasts by raising their dyke flag for themselves and their community.
Blurb
Crystal Rose woke up at three in the morning today, drenched in sweat and breathless after another sex dream with Haley Carson. Later at school in the tiny town of Clear, Alaska, Crystal saves Haley from an assault by her abusive boyfriend.
The two girls renew a love started years ago that had to stay hidden until now. But with Crystal’s grandparents in the hospital with Covid and the possibility of her drug addict parents returning from a 14-year absence, Crystal needs Haley as much as she needs Crystal.
They connect with Payton Reed, a gun-toting artist who helps them feel proud to be gay and willing to stand up to anyone. Together they struggle to make Crystal’s house safe for those who are hated for their love.
“Open the freakin door!” yells Haley, ducking under the packs draped across her back as Crystal tries to find the lock on the handle. “Fuck, I’m cold. Hurry!”
Crystal finally pushes the key in and flips the lock. As she steps inside, Haley pushes from behind. They fall into the sunroom on top of each other. Hail bounces off the deck into the house as the two girls laugh and slip and finally get up. Crystal shuts the door, and they look at each other—soaked to the bone, hair plastered to faces and necks, Haley’s makeup running down her cheeks.
“I’m not sure this is the first date we had in mind,” laughs Haley.
“No, but we’ll never forget it.” She wipes water off Haley’s face. “Even wet and half frozen, you are beautiful.”
She tries to cover her face. “I look like a drowned cat.”
“A beautiful drowned cat.” Crystal kisses her forehead. “I owed you one. From the bathroom before Rathbone’s class.”
Haley nods then shivers. Crystal rips off her wet jacket, drops it, and throws her arms around Haley’s back, trying to warm her up.
They both vibrate against each other as the puddles beneath their feet spread wider.
Haley barks a laugh. “Jesus, girl, your nipples are stabbing me. I’ve got dents in my boobs!” She pushes Crystal back and looks at her soaked, now see-through t-shirt. “You’re either very cold or very aroused.”
Tingles crawl up her skin. “Both.”
“My God, they’re staring at me!” Haley cups Crystal’s breasts. “I don’t like being stared at.”
Crystal presses Haley’s hands against her chest. “Not true. You love it. Let’s get some towels to dry off.” She pulls one of Haley’s wrists and leads her back to the bathroom. Crystal turns on the space heater and pulls two towels off the shower rod. “Here.” She offers the towel to Haley, who has raised her arms above her head, facing the mirror.
Haley flashes her brows through the glass. “A little help? My clothes are too wet for me to take them off myself.”
Crystal can’t breathe as she stares. “You want me to take off your shirt?”
“And my pants. I want to take a shower.” Haley bites her bottom lip.
A tongue of heat slithers up the back of Crystal’s neck. “I’ve always done what you asked.” She stands behind Haley, works her fingers inside the bottom of her shirt then pulls up, revealing the belly button stud she saw this morning. The wet material clings to the underside of Haley’s breasts, pushing them higher as Crystal inches the shirt up, revealing the impossibly white skin rarely exposed to view. Crystal stands mesmerized as the breasts plummet and bounce slightly off Haley’s ribs.
“Keep pulling, Crystal. I’m smothering in here.”
Crystal snaps her eyes away from Haley’s breasts and sees the shirt bunched around Haley’s head. She yanks it off and drops it to the floor.
The girls’ eyes meet in the mirror before Crystal’s wanders down to the dark pink nipples pointing at her.
“You like?” Haley purrs, shaking ever so slightly.
“Yes,” Crystal gasps. “You said you might be drawing number four, but I’m thinking five at least.” Crystal lowers her fingers to the girl’s hips.
Haley blushes. “Well, if you can stop staring, you can remove my leggings. I think you’ll have to peel them off. They feel glued to me.”
Crystal kneels as she works her fingertips between the clammy leggings and wet hips. Slowly, she pulls down her pants until Haley’s butt cleavage shows. Feeling deliciously dizzy, Crystal presses her cheek against Haley’s hip as she pulls then pushes the fabric to the floor. Haley lifts each foot out of each leg. Crystal sits back onto her calves and gazes at the perfect round cheeks cuddling the top of Haley’s legs.
Crystal’s lips part as her lungs empty. Her heart skips and squeezes as her skin heats. She wants to touch, to devour, yet to gaze forever. Inside her mind an animal and angel wrestle for control.
Haley turns around and Crystal gasps.
“No one has ever looked at me like you do now, Crystal.” She steps closer and reaches for Crystal’s face. “Your eyes burn my skin.”
“I don’t ever want to close them.” She clutches Haley’s waist and pulls her stomach to her lips, kissing around her navel then lower until she feels the tiny stubble on Haley’s pubis. She kisses lower, summoning a moan from Haley.
Haley kneels and clutches Crystal’s head. “Have you done this before?”
“No. Have you?”
She shakes her head. “But I want to.”
Brooke Skipstone is a multi-award winning author who lives in Alaska where she watches the mountains change colors with the seasons from her balcony. Where she feels the constant rush toward winter as the sunlight wanes for six months of the year, seven minutes each day, bringing crushing cold that lingers even as the sun climbs again. Where the burst of life during summer is urgent under twenty-four-hour daylight, lush and decadent. Where fish swim hundreds of miles up rivers past bear claws and nets and wheels and lines of rubber-clad combat fishers, arriving humped and ragged, dying as they spawn. Where danger from the land and its animals exhilarates the senses, forcing her to appreciate the difference between life and death. Where the edge between is sometimes too alluring.
Crystal’s House of Queers is her third novel.
Visit her website for information about her first two novels, Some Laneys Died and Someone To Kiss My Scars.
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