We’re so pleased to have author Marina Vivancos joining us today on the tour for her latest release, Night Without Night, book two in the Fox Lake series. She’s sharing an exclusive excerpt from the book as well as offering up a giveaway, so be sure to check out those details below.

Welcome, Marina!

About the Book

Title: Nights Without Night
Series: Fox Lake Series: Book Two
Author: Marina Vivancos
Publisher: Self-published
Release Date: 18th June 2018
Heat Level: 3 – Some Sex
Pairing: Male/Male
Length: 60k words
Genre: Romance, Contemporary, Childhood Friends, Mental Health
Add to Goodreads
Purchase at Amazon
Blurb: Isadoro and Iván have known each other since before memories were memories, when they were just the imprint of shape and sound pressed inside your head. They were raised together in La Portera, between the orange trees and water reservoirs, under an endless blue sky. Where they grew up is where Iván’s love for Isadoro grew, too. There, from the earth and the water, organic and helpless.

Iván had grown used to this love. He’d grown used to absence, too.
Isadoro left for the military when they were both eighteen and took a piece of Iván with him. It was as inevitable as the baking sun and sandy winds of those lands. Iván didn’t know how to fight it.

A thread between them remained. Phone calls, Skype sessions, rests between tours. But it was never quite enough.

After eight years, Isadoro comes back. At his core, he is the same man Iván has always known. But life has transformed them both from the malleable shapes of childhood and into the stiffer skin of adults. The situation is complicated further when they rekindle the ‘benefits’ portion of their friendship. The heat between them has always been undeniable, and now it scorches through them.

In the beginning, all seems well. But there are creatures under calm water. When they breach the surface, both Isadoro and Iván must learn how to help each other, but also to save themselves.

Please note: This story contains themes of affected mental health following the return from military combat. However, the ultimate focus of the story is on hope and recovery.
This story also contains very explicit scenes of a sexual nature.

The Excerpt

I text Isadoro to get a few things from the supermarket, Iva’s mention of food having inspired the idea to cook together.

Despite all his years with canteen food in the army, Isadoro isn’t a bad cook. He used to spend time in the kitchens of las titas, hoping to lick a spoon but getting chores instead. They’d been an inspiration for his charm, even if his grandfather tempered that with discipline.

I can’t help but feel a little resentful towards Isadoro’s grandfather. Without him, Isadoro would never have gone off to war. Not because Frank talked about his time in Vietnam, but because the composition of his morals had seemed to have solidified in his service. I could spot the exact grooves in Isadoro’s moral compass that had been carved by how inflexible Frank had been about his idea of right and wrong.

To me, Isadoro’s desire to enlist had seemed almost like a type of stubbornness. The decision was a mollusc, clinging to its perch the more you tried to argue against it. Not the bad press following the invasion of Afghanistan, not the documentaries or the protests, or my own largely unspoken but obvious opinions on the matter, could alter what was right.

Even then, I didn’t think he’d do it. War—that was something which happened to other people. Until it wasn’t.

I’d laughed when he told me he’d enlisted. I’d thought it was a joke. But he’d looked at me, expression set, and my own face had fallen. I’d been dumbfounded. And I could see it then, what the clench in his jaw meant.

There was nothing I could do to change his mind.

I’d swallowed my opinions whole. Even when they choked me or sat heavy in my stomach, I kept them mostly down. There was nothing much to say—we could have the conversation in our heads. I thought it was sick that he was joining a corrupt system for a faulty cause. He believed it was a duty to change corrupt systems from the inside out. I scoffed at the idea that the primary reason for the U.S. invasion had been to protect us. He maintained that regardless of motivation, the threat was real, and the damage already done—it was our responsibility to fix it.

And on, and on, and on.

So, we hadn’t said anything at all. It would only create fissures I couldn’t afford, fearing they would widen with his absence.

I open the apartment door and take my coat off. It’s late, and Isadoro is home, waiting for me on the couch. He looks unfairly attractive in loose sweatpants and a sweater, but the fact barely registers in my desensitized mind. He’s flipping through one of the sketchbooks I keep lying around. He does it a lot, and I don’t mind. I keep the ones filled with drawings of him in my wardrobe. They would give me away in a heartbeat.

We argue briefly about the recipe before going into the kitchen to cook. The scene is disgustingly domestic as we talk about our days, moving around each other to chop and stir as if this is the norm. He mentions his morning run and I heckle him for running in shorts in the January cold. He tells me about his visit to the dog shelter, his voice going soft as he talks about what he won’t admit is his favourite dog, an old mutt with scraggly fur but a no-nonsense attitude.

“He reminds me of you,” he says and laughs when I punch him in the chest.

“Jesus, are you made of rocks?” I whine, clutching my hand.

“Drama queen.”

“Just you wait. Imma get you one of these days. Just. You. Wait.”

“Sure you are.”

“Imma ninja-skills your ass.”

“Mmhmm.”

“God, you are so-” I go to stab him with the spatula I’m holding, but his hand catches my wrist before I can even blink. I ignore the heat trembling in the pit of my stomach.

“Say what now?” he smirks.

“Urgh. You are disgusting, get off,” I say, pulling my wrist from him. He lets me go.

“If I were a dog, I’d be, like…a cross between a golden retriever and a husky,” I say, turning back to the pan.

“That…kind of suits you, actually.”

“And you’d be a terrier.”

“What the fuck.”

“Kidding,” I laugh. “You’d be like…a boxer. All chest.”

“I’ll take that. Also, should I worry about your obsession with my chest?” he asks. I’m glad my back is turned to him.

“Yep. That’s what I have to go through to get to your heart.”

“Aaaaw!” he coos.

“To rip it out, asshole.”

“You want to rip out my asshole?”

“Oh my God. I’m going to kill you.”

“You are very violent today.”

“You inspire me,” I say, turning my head to stick my tongue out at him. He smiles wide and I feel weightless.

We eat in front of the TV. I put a movie on, trying to catch Isadoro up on what he’s missed. I don’t know if it’s necessary, but I avoid anything with explosions and gore. He wouldn’t tell me if it bothered him anyway.

After we do the dishes, I settle by the coffee table to do some homework, my back to the couch. The night is cold outside but here, it is warm and safe. The TV is on low, and I can feel Isadoro behind me, quiet and relaxed. The scene is so normal, I suddenly imagine myself doing this alone like I’ve done a million times before while he was half a world away. The fragility of this moment hits me unexpectedly, like it’ll crack under the slightest pressure. Fear, sadness, relief—it makes me dizzy, suddenly, and I take Isadoro’s hand in mine, trying to calm myself. I keep my face turned away until he squeezes my hand. I look then, and his lips are tilted in a smile. Small, but genuine. I breathe. I press against his legs for a moment and just feel his presence.

Here, with me.

About the Author

When Marina was a child she couldn’t sleep. Night after dissolving night she just couldn’t sleep. Nothing much worked – until she started making up stories in her head. Suddenly, the transition into unconsciousness was a smooth dive into calm waters.

Marina is currently in a period of sleepless upheaval, and she hopes writing down the stories in her head will cast the same spell it did decades ago.

Marina hopes to write in a variety of romance sub-genres, from contemporary to supernatural to sci-fi. Her style, however, tends to focus on character-centred stories that explore different facets of the human experience, such as mental health. She also enjoys writing explicit, drawn-out sex scenes, so expect those to be a prominent feature of her stories.

Website | Twitter | Goodreads