Book Title: Finding Harbor
Author: Duncan Gaye
Release Date: November 10, 2025
Tense/POV: Third person/ past tense
Genres: MM Historical Romance, LGBTQ Fiction
Tropes: Friends to lovers, strangers to lovers, small town romance, forced proximity, shared bed
Themes: Love against the odds, found family
Heat Rating: 2 flames
Length: 291 pages
It is a standalone story and does not end on a cliffhanger.
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Blurb
Part of The Long Shadow Series by Duncan Gaye
Patrick Callahan comes to Cape Breton expecting easy money from a quick and lucrative timber deal. Instead, he only finds humiliation. Swindled out of his inheritance and stranded in a windswept fishing village, he is left with nothing but a single suitcase and a future that has collapsed overnight. At seven and a half feet tall, Angus MacAskill is a gentle giant with his own past. In St. Ann’s, he is known for his silent kindness as much as he is for his stoic nature. He offers Patrick a bookkeeping job in his mercantile, and a place by the fire. What begins as a simple arrangement blossoms into a profound connection neither man could have ever imagined.
Set within the wild beauty of nineteenth-century Nova Scotia, Finding Harbor is a queer historical romance about survival, finding home, and a love that takes root slowly but with unshakable strength. Perfect for fans of Annie Proulx (Brokeback Mountain), Cat Sebastian (A Gentleman Never Keeps Score) and KJ Charles (An Unseen Attraction).
The last vestiges of daylight lingered on the western horizon. It bathed the landscape in thin strips of gold; a soft glow that made the ordinary seem extraordinary. There, at the edge of the garden where cottage met wilderness, stood Angus MacAskill but not as Patrick had seen him before. The giant had stripped to the waist, his massive torso gleaming wet in the fading light as he bent over the water pump.
Patrick stood frozen, one hand gripping the window frame. His gaze remained riveted. Angus dominated the pump handle with effortless, powerful strokes. Each downstroke unleashed a torrent of clear water that he splashed over his head and shoulders with his enormous hands. The cascade traced intricate paths along his sculpted physique. Shoulders broad enough to embrace the cottage door, arms like thick, sturdy columns. A vast canvas of dark chest hair clung to his skin beneath the deluge. This was not the carefully maintained physique of a Boston gentleman who might engage in rowing or fencing for sport and status. This was something elemental, forged through years of necessary labor. Angus’s body spoke of function rather than vanity, of survival rather than display. Yet Patrick found it more compelling than any form he had ever encountered in the gymnasiums or swimming baths of Boston.
Water sluiced down Angus’s back, catching the last golden rays and transforming each droplet into a point of light against his skin. He straightened, running both hands over his face and through his dark hair, sending a small shower of droplets arcing through the air. Patrick found the simple action oddly captivating. It felt like a private ritual. He knew he should not watch, but he could not look away.
A peculiar heat spread through Patrick’s body, settling low in his abdomen. He recognized the sensation with a mixture of alarm and inevitability, like when he had first laid eyes on the big man by the broken-down wagon. This forbidden attraction to men was not new. He had felt it in Boston, had even acted on it in rare, dangerous moments, but never had it flared so immediately, so powerfully. This time it was impossible to ignore. He pressed his palm flat against the cool glass, as if seeking to ground himself against the disorienting wave of desire.[A1]
Angus moved away from the pump toward a pile of logs stacked near the small barn. He selected one, positioned it on a chopping block, then reached for an axe that would have required both hands for Patrick to lift. In Angus’s grip, it seemed almost reasonably sized. The giant widened his stance, raised the axe above his head in a smooth arc, then brought it down with controlled force. The log split with a satisfying crack, the two halves falling to either side of the block. There was a fluid economy to Angus’s movements, nothing wasted, nothing strained. His muscles shifted beneath his skin like some complex machinery, each part working in perfect concert with the others. Another log. Another raise of the axe. Another clean split. The rhythm of it held Patrick transfixed, his breath coming slightly faster as he watched.
In Boston, Patrick spent many hours shaping his image. He focused on the right clothes, the right speech, and the right connections. Men like him devoted themselves to crafting exteriors that concealed as much as they revealed. But Angus stood in the deepening dusk with his body exposed to the elements, every aspect of his physical self visible and unashamed. The contrast struck Patrick with unexpected force. What would it be like to live without hiding? To exist so comfortably within one’s own skin?
Sweat now mingled with the water on Angus’s body, creating a sheen across his shoulders and back as he continued his work. The pile of split wood grew beside him, each piece uniform in size, perfectly suited for the cottage’s small hearth. Even in this simple task, Angus showed the same precision Patrick saw in the store ledgers. Angus paused, straightening to his full height, the axe held loosely in one hand. He rolled his shoulders, stretching muscles that had tightened with use. The movement showed how his torso tapered from his broad shoulders to a waist that, while still strong, formed a V-shape. It made Patrick think of the marble statues he had admired in museums and books, despite his pretense of a purely scholarly interest.[A2]
Without warning, Angus turned toward the cottage and their eyes met across the yard with sudden, startling directness. Patrick jerked back as if burned, nearly stumbling over his own feet in his haste to retreat from view. His face flooded with heat, embarrassment coursing through him at being caught in such obvious voyeurism. For a moment, just before he had pulled away, Patrick had seen something in Angus’s expression; not anger or offense, but something more complex. Identification. Awareness. The giant’s dark eyes locked onto Patrick’s, filled with a fierce intensity. It felt like they were connected, despite the distance between them, the sensation both thrilling and menacing.
Patrick moved away from the window, his bare feet silent on the wooden floor, his heartbeat thundering in his ears. What must Angus think of him? A Peeping Tom, a deviant, spying on a man’s private moments? Or worse, had Angus recognized the nature of Patrick’s interest? The thought sent a fresh wave of panic through him. Such inclinations had to be hidden, denied, suppressed. In Boston, even the whisper of such tendencies could destroy a man’s reputation, his livelihood, even his freedom.
At the table, he fidgeted with his sparse belongings. Trembling hands shuffled through scattered items, feigning focus on a task. The leather-bound ledger beckoned for order, while folded shirts lay like soldiers waiting. A small jar of pomade rolled precariously, demanding his attention too. Each object felt his frantic touch as he braced for Angus’s return. But beneath the panic and embarrassment, something else stirred. He recognized it. A door had opened that would never close. The image of Angus at the water pump, powerful and unguarded, had imprinted itself on Patrick’s mind with permanent clarity. It would return to him in quiet moments, in dreams, in the spaces between thoughts. He knew this much with certainty, even as he pretended to be absorbed in arranging his toiletries.
Outside, the rhythmic thunk of the axe resumed, each impact resonating through the growing darkness like a heartbeat.
Duncan Gaye lives in River Forest, Illinois. He believes magic can be found anywhere, even the suburbs. He writes the kind of love stories that sneak up on you—queer, tender, and just a little strange. His books are full of burly big-hearted men, tall tales, impossible odds, and the kind of endings that leave you wanting more.
When not writing, he likes to read, travel and relax with his adorable senior dogs, Spotty and French Fry.
The Long Shadow Series by Duncan Gaye is a thematic anthology series of stand-alone LGBTQ+ novellas and novels that tell love stories shaped by the extraordinary. Blending elements of speculative fiction, magical realism, tall tales, and literary drama, these are stories where intimacy and identity meet epic strength and emotional vulnerability.
From the mythical to the mundane, each book explores larger-than-life characters—strongmen, bodyguards, super soldiers, and other giants. For fans of emotional intensity, queer desire, and stories that stretch the boundaries of realism, this series offers a new kind of legend.
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