Luka is a free-spirited world traveler, working at Oktoberfest to feed his enchantment with new places and new people. His only possessions fit in his backpack, and he depends on the kindness of strangers for a place to sleep. Crispin should know better—but he takes Luka’s hand anyway, and together they turn three nights in Munich into the relationship neither of them has been brave enough to risk—and neither can let go of.
When Luka turns up on Crispin’s doorstep before the holiday season, Crispin takes him in on hope alone. Yes, he knows the odds are good Luka will flutter out of his life again and leave him bereft, but isn’t it worth it to see if Luka is a homebird after all?
Buy links: Dreamspinner | Amazon
Cat gives this one 5 Meows...
Homebird will really tug at your heartstrings. I loved the Author note in the front of the book and just imagined Luka the waiter. It gave the story such a beautiful personal touch. As in all Ay Lane books you have an array of fabulous characters. I enjoyed not only Crispin and Luka but Crispin's group of friends as well. The storyline had some sad moments, but that's another Amy lane thing...You know there has to be a good ending!
If you are looking for a story with lots of meaning, character growth and just an amazing romance this is for you!
Excerpt...
“SO YOU’LL fill the bird feeder every other day?” Crispin Henry asked his sister. “I know they’re migrating soon, but I want them to think this is a good place.”
“Yes, Potato Crisp. Every other day. Do you even know what kind of birds they are?”
“I keep meaning to look it up,” Crispin confessed, counting seven pairs of socks and putting them in the bottom of the suitcase. “I’m afraid to find out that they’re not really the same birds I see every year. Right now I feel like we’re bonding.”
Millie smiled cheekily and leaned against the doorframe of his bedroom, holding his cat, Steve Rogers. Steve, being the genial beast he was, rolled over in her arms so his silver-gray belly turned up and she could give him a luxurious tummy scratch while they spent time together.
“Oh, Captain,” Millie cooed. “You’re getting fat!”
“He won’t stop eating,” Crispin told her, folding the last shirt for his suitcase. “Every time I look, he’s got his face in the trough. If I try to measure out the food over the day, he waits until night when I’m asleep and bats the back of my head.” He ignored Millie’s laughter while he did a quick count. He would be gone six days, so he needed three pairs of pants—two jeans, one pair of slacks—six T-shirts, two dress shirts, seven pairs of socks, and seven pairs of underwear—
“You know, that’s a lot of clothes to haul around,” Millie said, dubious. “You can wear the pants more than once, and you only need two sweaters.”
“For just in case,” Crispin said, pulling his fingers through his dark, curly hair. “You know I don’t like to get caught—”
“Unprepared,” she finished, rolling her eyes. “It’ll be okay, Crispy. What’s the worst that can happen? You end up washing your underwear in the hotel sink? I’m sure they’ve seen worse.”
Crispin darted his eyes at her and fidgeted, wishing he had her confidence. Millie wasn’t, strictly speaking, his sister by blood. His parents had passed away when he was young, and she’d been his foster parents’ surprise baby—as in “Surprise! We just got cleared for foster parenting and we’re having a baby!”
They’d both lucked out, it seemed, because her parents, Carmen and James Henry, had been lovely people, born to be parents. They’d died in a car accident when Millie was sixteen, but Crispin had been in college then, and they’d each had a small inheritance. He’d moved back to Sacramento and finished his degree at the local state school so Millie could finish high school in the house she’d grown up in. She’d moved on and gone to college on her own, and then moved back with her husband. They rented an apartment downtown, and Crispin stayed in the little house in Fair Oaks. He’d redecorated it in the ten years since he’d returned—light paneling instead of dark, bold single colors on one wall in each room instead of fussy wallpaper, comfortable corduroy on the couches instead of tapestry—but it was still, better or worse, their home.
Millie and Todd came over for dinner twice a week, and Crispin kept their pit bull/shepherd mix for them during the week so they could come play with him over the weekend.
Home. Safety. Security. It was in every brush stroke of paint and panel of the hardwood floor.
“You know, Sherman might not be okay without me here during the nights—”
“Don’t worry—we’ll stay in the guest room. I told you that.” Millie rubbed whiskers with Captain Steve. “He’s being a big baby, isn’t he?”
“This whole thing is really very ill-advised,” Crispin muttered, closing his eyes. “I should just—”
“If you say cancel, I’m smacking you,” Millie snapped. She had a spill of blonde hair and big blue eyes and a little kewpie doll mouth—and right now she looked about as cuddly as a cactus. “Come on, Crispy—when was the last time you went on a vacation?”
Crispin sighed. “I… there was Comic-Con last year, and me and the guys went to Vegas two years ago.”
Millie raised her eyebrows, unimpressed. “I remember. Vegas.”
“Yes.”
“They wanted to see a strip show.”
Crispin’s ears got hot. “Yes.”
“And gamble.”
“So I said.”
“You hate gambling.”
Crispin carefully stacked his jeans in the pristine new suitcase, not looking at her. “It’s statistically not going to turn out in your favor. It’s not logical. I don’t understand the urge to do it.”
“I know. I get that. But you went gambling anyway. You also saw a strip show, and you’re gay.”
Crispin’s eyes darted around the room, like suddenly their parents might pop out and remind him that they had known, before they’d been hit by a drunk driver in the rain. “Yes, but you’re the only one who knows that.”
Millie let out a sigh. “Why? Why am I the only one who knows that? I’ve met your friends—they don’t seem bad.”
“You don’t even know their names,” Crispin said suspiciously.
“Sure. There’s Tom, Dick, That Guy Over There, and Some Other Asshole—that’s not the point.”
Crispin smirked, because God love his baby sister anyway. “What’s the point?”
She sighed and set Captain Steve on the bed, where all his fur promptly stuck to Crispin’s one good dress shirt.
Angst and pain, Amy Lane Amy Lane has two kids in college, two gradeschoolers in soccer, two cats, and two Chi-who-whats at large. She lives in a crumbling crapmansion with most of the children and a bemused spouse. She also has too damned much yarn, a penchant for action adventure movies, and a need to know that somewhere in all the pain is a story of Wuv, Twu Wuv, which she continues to believe in to this day! She writes fantasy, urban fantasy, and m/m romance--and if you accidentally make eye contact, she'll bore you to tears with why those three genres go together. She'll also tell you that sacrifices, large and small, are worth the urge to write.
love the excerpt..congrats amy
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