Sometimes all it takes is a few words to change everything: Remember Me, Omega.
Omega Ethan loved being a parent. But now that his son is moving away from home, Ethan has decided to recapture his identity as the strong, intelligent, determined, and fun omega he used to be--and to follow his artistic dreams. A home studio, an art class at the local college, and soon enough, Ethan's dreams will be within reach.
But the last thing he expects is to reconnect with his high-school sweetheart.
Alpha Rhys loved Ethan from the moment they met in high school. Being taken from him before they'd fully explored their feelings was his life's biggest regret. But now that Ethan's adult son is interning at his tech company, Rhys just might have the chance to remedy that loss.
For the first time in twenty years, Ethan and Rhys must confront their shared past--and when Ethan learns he's pregnant, they'll have to decide if a shared dream is enough to build a future together.
Remember Me, Omega is a super-sweet, romantic, steamy standalone romance that brings the knotty heat, perfect for readers who love stories with second chances, beautiful dreams between two men, male pregnancy, cute babies, and amazing HEAs.
Just released today (September 22), but zero advertising and we have 21 sales. I'd say it's doing pretty well.
As a young man, I dreamed of having my own show where all the people would come and see my work and get it. And now that I had a real opportunity to have the show, my biggest concern was far from if they got it or not.
No, I was more worried about whether I’d have enough pieces to make it worthy of the gallery space and advertising.
One thing I swore to myself when I decided to pick painting back up was that I’d never be that person who did it for money, even if the possibility of money was right in front of me, calling out to me.
Part of that meant only working on things I felt passionate about.
The only problem with only creating your passion is that sometimes the things that weigh so heavily on your mind are just a little bit too heavy to dwell on for too long. And it was that heaviness that had me putting down my paints at twelve o’clock in the afternoon with a deadline looming. I was done for the day. Or at least done until later.
My mind was too focused on the the doctor’s appointment Rhys and I had later that afternoon. Technically, it was mine, but Rhys offered to come, and I took him up on it without a second thought. I hadn’t expressed my concerns to him over our child’s well-being. He’d been so excited by the news, I couldn’t bring myself to tell him about all the ways being pregnant at my age could go wrong.
So instead, like any rational person, I held the feelings in and let them amplify with every Google search I made. Now, I stood in my house, covered in paint, staring at an unfinished painting, one that showed all of the turmoil that the what-ifs of my pregnancy had thrust upon me. What if I’m not really pregnant and this was age-related hormonal issues instead? What if the baby wasn’t viable? What if the baby was born with a disability or birth defect that had odds of increasing as I aged?
Already translated. Translated by Anice Stellato
Already translated. Translated by Luisa Maria Reyes Cortés