RELEASE TOUR incl Exclusive Excerpt: Maybe by Fearne Hill
Length: 82,000 words
Series: Mis-shapes #1
Genre: contemporary
Tropes: adopted brothers, hurt-comfort, single dad, mental health, rich-poor
Trigger/Content Warnings: Grief for a parent, past mental health issues, an emotionally abusive parent (in the past), a short description of a cot death
Designer: Black Jazz Designs
Learn to fly.
Fly away. Isaac: After one quarrel too many with our wealthy father, my eighteen-year-old brother, Ezra Fitz-Henry, does exactly that. He flies away, leaving me behind to play the part of the perfect and dutiful son. When our cold, heartless father dies a decade later, Ezra strolls back into my life—as difficult and secretive as he is beautiful. I’m not prepared. You’re not supposed to want the one you can’t have.
Ezra: I only go back for the money. I have a three-point plan: take what’s mine, use it to escape my lousy flat, and never have anything to do with the Fitz-Henrys ever again. But that’s before I see Isaac, with his solemn frowns and disapproving lips—the best of things and the worst of things. My friend. My enemy. My sinful fantasy. My younger brother.
Maybe is a standalone M/M romance featuring a relationship between adopted brothers.
My two-hour set was drawing to a close and Isaac was still here. And, me being me, I could only handle it by behaving like a twat. “Who shat in your boyfriend’s Shreddies?” I slid into the recently vacated seat opposite and helped myself to a swig of Isaac’s drink. Acting obnoxiously was infinitely preferable to admitting my life was dull, and that having Isaac back in it, in some form or other, was one of the two best things to happen to me in approximately ten years. Then I pulled a face, because… holy fuckballs…flavoured sparkling water. “Really, Isaac? You actually chose this off a menu? Who the fuck drinks this piss? It tastes like TV static.” “What the hell, Ezra.” He said my name weakly, shaking his head with his eyes closed, as if he couldn’t make up his mind whether he was pleased our paths had crossed again or not. Fair enough. Must be difficult staring into the face of the person whose comfortable life you stole. “And Gerald’s not my boyfriend,” he added. “He’s a… an optometrist… someone I met online. Not that it’s any of your business.” “Ah.” I felt a flip of relief. Isaac really could do so much better. “I get it. Gerald the optometrist has been side-lined into the friend zone, but you haven’t broken the news yet. He’s become a non-sexual entity, like a desk or a wheel. Or crappy sparkling water.” I was babbling, trying to be smart, trying to hate him, trying not to let him know I was hoarding every detail of his pinched, irritated face in case he told me to bugger off. “Why didn’t you get in touch, Ezra? You had my address and my place of work. You fuck off for ten years, reappear shitfaced, then fuck off again? And who decides I’m on a date because I’m having a coffee in the middle of the afternoon with another fucking bloke?” Ah, there it was. I’d forgotten how easily he flushed when he was annoyed. Just to piss him off, I grinned at him. “Any more fucks to give, Isaac, or was that your last one being set free?”
“Fearne Hill resides far from the madding crowds in the county of Dorset, deep in the British countryside. She likes it that way. She is a two times Lambda Literary finalist: Two Tribes in 2023 and Oyster in 2025.”
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