I love that this is a realistic display of what someone actually experiences being gender queer and that there isn't a big deal made of coming out. Not everyone has to come out! Would give more stars if I could!

It’s so beautiful to see queer characters in a real and vulnerable place without the heartbreak of watching them die for the sake of filling in plot gaps. To finally see someone like me in a story like mine without more trauma is extremely refreshing! This is the kind of story that I needed when I was younger and coming out— to know that it does get better and that I’m perfectly fine the way that I am!"

Paramour Promise: Autographed Paperback

$14.99

Dilynn's engagement crumbles in a bustling post-Christmas mall when her daughter’s fist crashes into her fiancé's face. The single mother finds herself ensnared in the wreckage of her engagement with a smile painted on her face. Late at night, Dilynn drops her smile for her computer screen while Dilynn crafts alternative endings for her novel on a fanfiction website. She escapes into a digital reality to write steamy encounters with her stoically sturdy coworker, Alex Trikru, who watched her life crumble outside the make-up store.

With a best friend whispering secrets about Dilynn's past in Alex’s ear, the non-binary history teacher grapples with the decision to pursue wooing Dilynn or retreat into the safety of anonymity on the other side of the screen. They soon realize both paths lead to Dilynn. They can choose to be content as a fictional subject of Dilynn’s devious desires only or threaten the only friendship they’re ever had to kiss the woman with thousands of words.

As these storylines intertwine, a rich tapestry of secrets and challenges unfurls, weaving a complex narrative in which Dilynn and Alex more navigate the turbulent waters of their interconnected lives.

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Paramour Promise: Autographed Hardback

$25.99

Dilynn's engagement crumbles in a bustling post-Christmas mall when her daughter’s fist crashes into her fiancé's face. The single mother finds herself ensnared in the wreckage of her engagement with a smile painted on her face. Late at night, Dilynn drops her smile for her computer screen while Dilynn crafts alternative endings for her novel on a fanfiction website. She escapes into a digital reality to write steamy encounters with her stoically sturdy coworker, Alex Trikru, who watched her life crumble outside the make-up store.

With a best friend whispering secrets about Dilynn's past in Alex’s ear, the non-binary history teacher grapples with the decision to pursue wooing Dilynn or retreat into the safety of anonymity on the other side of the screen. They soon realize both paths lead to Dilynn. They can choose to be content as a fictional subject of Dilynn’s devious desires only or threaten the only friendship they’re ever had to kiss the woman with thousands of words.

As these storylines intertwine, a rich tapestry of secrets and challenges unfurls, weaving a complex narrative in which Dilynn and Alex more navigate the turbulent waters of their interconnected lives.

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The lone scarlet stocking unfortunately did not catch fire from the flickering fake flames. Two years ago, this hadn’t been the life Dilynn imagined when buying cheesy Christmas decorations for their first family holiday. Her stocking was pointless that year, just like this one.  

Next year wouldn’t be any different, so Dilynn created a new plan to avoid being forgotten in 364 days. No stupid socks would draw questions, and she hated answering questions. She would hang stockings; one for Brandon and one for Evie. Neither would notice Dilynn’s was missing. She added ordering Chinese food in place of cooking to her list.    

Since it was after midnight, Dilynn reached behind the tree and yanked the cord from the outlet. The tree stopped blinking its slow rhythm immediately, bringing a smile to her face. She’d been dying to pull the plug on Christmas since the fiancé and the daughter had begun competing for who was worse, Brandon Scrooge or Evie Grinch.  

With 28 days of nightmares, Dilynn looked forward to the decorations coming down after she took Evie to the mall for face wash and eyeliner. Then everything would get packed in black plastic bins and shoved them into garage with everything else she didn’t want to deal with. She scanned the room again. She could just trash half of it. It's not like the teen or the man would care like she had hoped.  

None of the tinsel or gifts had mattered to them that first year. It was stupid to think it was going to happen this year. She’d just put it out for bulk trash next week. Then she could return to the day to day of being a mom and a fiancé until she had to do Christmas again. 

She smiled at the look on their faces when she’d slap up a twig on a wall and tape up a star over it.  
No more massive holidays. No more extravagant events.   

Her head fell back against the couch. She needed to get the wedding invitations out tomorrow too. Mall and post office on the day after Christmas felt like cruel and unusual punishment.  

Dilynn grabbed the laptop from the kitchen table. The new Macbook Pro was a gift she’d gotten herself. Along with the microphone and sound buffer so she could record her novel into an audiobook. 

That could be something to do tomorrow. After the mall, she could take her new toys to the office in the guest house and play with them without interruption. Then she could chart out the second novel that hopefully the publishing company would want. The proposal for the sequel would need to be submitted while the hype from book one was still strong. 

She looked over the top of the screen towards the hallway that led to Evie’s bedroom. There was no sign of movement, so she shifted her attention to the shorter hallway on the other side of the TV and fake fireplace where the empty stocking still hadn’t caught fire. 

Brandon’s monstrous snores were enough to keep her on the couch. She wouldn’t be able to sleep anyways. Not when he’d walked past her without saying goodnight or Merry Christmas.  

She glanced over at the destroyed kitchen. Dinner was more of a disaster than the kitchen, but she’d tired. Sucking back the tears, she decided her New Year’s Resolution would be to learn how to cook more than pizza.  

Next year, she could avoid the fight at the table, which is where the final fight of the day began. Brandon and Evie couldn’t get through one meal without fighting even though Dilynn had reminded them it was fucking Christmas. 

Fucking Christmas.
 
Fuck Christmas. 

At least she’d had the sense to get herself something to open this year. She wasn’t disappointed by the pack of socks Brandon had bought for himself or the Starbucks gift card from Evie. Not when she had the new computer to open. She’d waited patiently all day for the computer to load its updates. Typed on her phone while the biscuits turned into stones in the oven.  

She waited for the fanfiction website to load, then scrolled through the plethora of Christmas fics written by fans of her novel. She’d only told her daughter she’d started writing fanfiction before deciding her to write her own book. A bit of information Evie never failed to use to make her feel ridiculous.  

Dilynn found a safe haven in the website. A space she could hide behind a username as she fought again the imposter syndrome within a fandom based on the characters in her novel. Not to mention an entire fandom focused on two of her supporting characters.  

They were important; both piece of Dilynn’s past she wasn’t ready to fully process. She’d never considered there could be more between Skylar, the cynical general, and Danika, the warrior who’d raised Skylar’s daughter. However, 2,563 of the nearly 8,000 stories on the fanfiction website were focused on the duo.  

Dilynn found herself intrigued enough to explore what if scenarios with several of her own spin-offs between the characters. Her stories were inappropriate for her young adult audience. Ones where she imagined what it would feel like to be brought to the edge of ecstasy next to a crackling fire or have to stifle the moans of pleasure while she was fucked atop the war planning table with a firm hand over her throat.  

The universe she’d dreamt into life was her own escape from the mundane existence in the heterosexual world she’d never imagined herself in. Tales of her naughty imaginings were somewhat popular in the fandom.  

She enjoyed waking up to a litany of comments. Measured her success in the number of hits. She’d even managed to accumulate an online troll, at least that was what Evie had called the person who’d said her writing was trash. Story after story, the person on the other side of the screen tried to break her down. No troll was going to stop her from dreaming of a different reality.  

Her fingers broke in the new keyboard. Told a story about a night that wasn’t Christmas, because there was not fucking Christmas or goddamn stockings in the Aurorian world. She wrote the stoic general pulling covers up over her daughter asleep in the ornately carved bed. 

She told of Skylar kissing the young girl atop the head before leaving the room. A detail the troll, RunnerAT89 would deeply despise because it made Skylar sensitive when, according to the troll, she was logical and devoid of any nurturing. 

They didn’t know how right they were. That Skylar’s personality came from a wealthy woman, who sent gifts the day after Christmas and never called them a Christmas present because living in a closet meant never celebrating holidays together. That was something people in a relationship did, and Sylvia would never publicly be in a relationship with a woman.  
Just a situationship.  

Skylar wasn’t her ex, there. Just another piece of Dilynn, twisted and tangled up trauma she hadn’t resolved. Possibly as much as the nineteen-year-old Dilynn had been the Christmas Angel for this year. One whose story had broken Dilynn’s heart as the girl clung to the three-month-old baby girl in the small shelter three days before Christmas. 

Dilynn made a mental note to reach out to the girl on the number that she’d provided. Follow up to see if public housing came through yet. She glanced back at the guest house. She could make it a space for the small family. Give them a chance she didn’t get.  

Evie’s bedroom door creaked open, so Dilynn scrunched down so she could blend in with the couch. She listened carefully for her daughter’s footsteps going into the bathroom.  

The peace was short lived when Evie padded out of the dark hallway without washing her hands. The hall light was still out so Dilynn added fix light bulb on her list of things to do. 

Evie quietly moved to the kitchen and pulled a tub of cream cheese from the refrigerator. Dipping her finger into the shared tub, Dilynn’s need to be invisible vanished.  

“You have got to be kidding me,” Dilynn hissed. Her hand gestured to the cabinets. “At least get a fucking spoon.” 

Evie looked down at the container, then stuffed another cream coated finger into her mouth. She smiled guiltily towards Dilynn, and whispered, “Guess this one’s mine now.” 

“Why are you up?” Dilynn asked to move past the terrifying question of how long she’d been eating contaminated cream cheese.  

“Christmas sucks,” Evie whispered. She tucked into Dilynn’s side and pulled the throw blanket over both of them.  

No amount of pine scented candles could cover the girl’s over ripe odor. Dilynn breathed through her mouth so she could hold on to kid. She’d never gotten a hug from the kid before. 

“I wish I could like to go into the therapist’s office and she could wipe it way.” Evie held her hand in the air and pretended to click a pen. “Like Men in Black had that little flashy light. Just flash me and make those two years just disappear.  

Dilynn didn’t tell the girl she was wrong for wanting two years to disappear. She just pulled the kid in closer and pressed her lips to the oily hair.  

“When was the last time you showered?” Dilynn asked while trying to wipe the oil from her lips on the Secret Santa sweater. She stopped when she remembered this was the only gift she got, and she really liked it. 

The girl chuckled and lifted her arm. She shouldn’t have needed to but her face said she understood how rancid she smelt.  

“Is it because Brandon’s home?” Dilynn asked.  

Evie didn’t answer. She just stared at the fireplace.  

“It’s Christmas… and… I just don’t want to take any chances,” Evie whispered. 

Dilynn understood without needing more. She held the kid closer and decided to talk to Brandon again about making effort to fix his relationship with Evie. He was the adult.  

“Landon’s coming over tomorrow to take down the Christmas lights.” Evie ran her finger over the track pad, scanning over Dilynn’s story. “I’ll shower before he comes.” 

“We don’t need your boyfriend to climb up that ladder and break something. His mother will come over and beat me up.” Dilynn turned the ring on her finger. “Brandon said he would do it.” 

Evie let out an exasperated huff.  “He never does anything he says, and I heard him on the phone. He’s not going to be here tomorrow.” 

Dilynn’s nose crinkled at the information. He hadn’t mentioned he had anywhere to be tomorrow when she’d asked him to help with the decorations. 

“Landon’s coming and he’s going to take down the lights, so you don’t break your ankle again from falling off the ladder,” Evie stated.  

Dilynn tried to roll her foot. The stiffness still made her nose crinkle.  Maybe she would take up jogging. It would possibly help loosen up the ligaments. 

“We don’t need him,” Evie whispered. Her head shot up. “Also, you have to tell the ogre he can’t walk around in his boxers. It’s like traumatizing and it may turn me gay.” 

Dilynn’s head fell back to the chair.  

“I know we covered you can’t turn gay, especially since you aren’t straight.” 

“Yeah, well I wish you would so you would dump that dipshit,” Evie said. “Maybe, call up your ex, Sonia… Sympathy… umm… Saphron.” 

With a snort, Dilynn said, “Sylvia.” 

“Yeah, her,” Evie bounced up. “I saw her on Instagram. Bitch is like one of the top fifty richest people in the world now, plus she’s hot like Skylar in your book.” 

“Skylar has brown hair,” Dilynn reminded the girl. “Sylvia is blonde, like me. Well blonder. Also, she doesn’t want kids.” 

“Cool, we can Flowers it in the Attic it, only like put me on the beach somewhere,” Evie offered.  

Dilynn’s head dropped to the side. “You never finished the book, did you?” 

“I heard the brother and sister kissed so I was out,” Evie said falling back against Dilynn’s chest. Her fingers played with the blue cotton of the sweater. “This is new.”  

Dilynn smiled at the sweater. “My secret santa got it for me. Also , the mother tries to poison the kids in the book because she is getting remarried.” 

“Cause it’s so different with him,” Evie grumbled. She pushed up from the couch while Dilynn twirled the ring around her finger.  

“Just think about the whole gay thing. Girls at least wash their ass.” 

Dilynn’s eyebrows tried to touch in the middle. Her chin ducked down and she could still smell the stink that was now on her clothes.  

“Says the girl who hasn’t showered,” Dilynn stated.  

“It’s a defensive mechanism.” Evie shrugged. “Simple and effective and after a day or two, I don’t really notice anymore.” 
Evie left Dilynn to her new devices. She’d written about Evie’s defensive tactics before. She’d have to do it again, however, not tonight.  

Safe from prying eyes and interruptions, she detailed Danika watching Skylar gaze at the child in the bed adoringly. She romanticized the moment, having Skylar glance sweetly back at Danika, who’d given up her rank and her position by Skylar’s side to keep the girl safe. 

They would kiss because Dilynn needed a kiss. She’d been engaged for over a year, and the kisses had slowed to the point of non-existence. So, she took her time imagining kissing someone like Skylar. Someone who commanded the room with just a look. Whose taught muscles stretched the linen of shirts and could hold her. Someone like the stoic social studies teacher. 

Skylar had always remined Dilynn of Sylvia. The character was built in her contrast at the same point. Built with the same demi-goddess structure of the AP Government teacher, Alex Trikru.  

Her fingers told tales of hidden depths within each of the women that caused lips to part and gasp so gracefully it was impossible not to miss being touched. They brought each other to the edge of a moonlit cliff, but never pushed the other off. They leapt in each other’s arms, drawing out the pleasure so their minds were still foggy and their limbs still shaky the next morning when the child crawled between them asking breakfast. 

Flushed and frustrated, Dilynn composed her own anticlimactic event under the throw blanket on the couch. She moved passed feeling guilty for getting aroused she at the thought of the government teacher. Now she held on to the calm gaze of Alex Trikru’s green eyes. Imagined the slow cadence of words telling her much she was wanted.  

A loud snore tore her mind from Trikru’s hand on her thigh. A stark reminder, she was engaged. Engaged even on the nights he didn’t want to touch her, which was like every night. At least in Dilynn’s naughty musings, Trikru always wanted to touch her.  

She hummed slightly as she washed her hands. She could still see Alex’s eyes in her head, and she decided to describe them as Skylar’s in the next fanfic. Write a realistic universe where Skylar was a history teacher and Danika an English teacher.  
With clean hands, Dilynn casually edited the eight thousand words she’d written before getting herself off. Made minor corrections to anything underlined in blue and red. Then she posted it. 

The internet troll would probably strike by morning. She prepared herself for their cruelty and remined herself there would be others who didn’t tell her she was worthless. 

Making her way to bed, she looked over the stalking man taking up a majority of the bed. She hated how hairy his man boobs were, and wondered how she went from Sylvia to him.  

She shook her head trying to force Evie’s words out. Evie was the one that was disgusted with Brandon. She was the one that didn’t like him.  

Dilynn loved him. Loved that he was home.  It was so rare he was home since the shelter she helped open for him was so short staffed.  

​She was lucky and she knew it. Luckier than RunnerAT89, who was probably alone on Christmas.