Author Of The Month - Anyta Sunday - Week Two

Welcome to our 2nd week of celebrations for the amazing

In today's post, we'll look at the Enemies To Lovers series (one of our favorite tropes), plus five little-known facts about Anyta. There's also another chance to win one of her books!

The Enemies to Lovers series is a set of four novels that can all be read as standalones, and that are loosely connected by recurring characters. All books feature light-hearted, sweet, new adult gay romance stories of guys turning from enemies to lovers.


First up, Shane and Trey 

Blurb:

Shane is a little bit screwed. He has just started college and is stuck rooming with that bastard Trey. His sister's boyfriend. His sister's damn fine boyfriend. Uh-oh. This so wasn't going to happen. But try as he might, there's just a little too much to ignore between the two of them...

Excerpt:

I parked across the street from his house. I knew where he lived because I’d dropped June off a couple of times. It felt weird being here without her though. But she’d been the one to suggest coming here and finding out if—and I prayed to God it was not the case—he got a letter with my name on it.

As I had no AC, I’d made sure to lower all the windows. It was too hot for anything else, and even with the light breezes I was sweating. I gripped the wheel so tight my palms grew hot and slippery.

I narrowed my gaze on his pristine house with its perfect flowerbeds, and then on Trey, who was mowing the lawns. Fuck, I felt like such a stalker sitting in my car and watching him. But I couldn’t get out. I mean what was I thinking coming here? The guy had heard me come out. What if he wanted to beat me? Did I really care to find out that much? Hell no. But then, if he was my roomie—I gulped—I’d have to live scared shitless by his fists all semester. Better grow a set quickly. This could be like mental preparation. I’d gauge his reactions today and figure out how best to deal with him before getting to college. So go on, what am I waiting for? Get out of the fucking car.

I grasped the door handle and unbuckled the seatbelt. Then froze again as Trey stopped the mower. He wiped the back of his hand over his glistening forehead and then ran his fingers through his dark hair.

He wandered toward the patio, and as he did the sun worked a small miracle in combination with all his sweat, making him sparkle. This was so unfair. He’d so better not be my roomie. I mean, sure, a hottie would be great, but jeez, just give me a chronic farter—anyone trumped this Trey.

I let go of the handle. Oh crap. I was a wuss. I didn’t want to talk to him at all. Nope. I wasn’t going to. June could just tell me later. Then I’d join a gym and buff myself up so I’d be a match for him—okay probably only a sort-of match. But it’d be something.

I groaned and hit my head on the steering wheel. “Fuuuuck.”

“Were you going to come out any time?”

My head snapped up. Now in a tight white T-shirt, Trey waltzed toward me. His stare penetrated right through me, causing a shiver. “HmmMmm.” Yes? No? Maybe? Hell no?

He raised his brow slightly, then walked around the car and let himself into the passenger seat.

I tried to determine what I’d do if he started throwing punches. I could run off. Actually, I’d probably have the strength to push him out of the car. Then I’d hit the gas. Was I over-thinking? Yeah, probably—this guy was my sister’s boyfriend after all. If he loved her anywhere near as much as she did him, he wouldn’t be messing me up too bad.

“Didn’t realize you’d seen me,” I said at last.

“Your car is red, man. I noticed.”

So much of a stalker I’d be.

Trey sucked in air, making it whistle between his teeth. “So, what’s up?” He calmly leaned back into the chair, gazing out the front window. Somehow that went a long way to calming down my nerves.

I cleared my throat. Did I lead in with: Not much, how ‘bout you? Or just get to the point? Funny that my sister had gone out with the guy six months and I’d only had a handful of conversations with him. And they weren’t exactly revealing. Like, I knew he had a brother, and was super, super good at basketball—but those were my sister’s words.

“Ummm,” I finished the word with a loud smack. With all my hmms and umms no one would believe I was going to study to become a speech therapist. I glanced at Trey, who surprised me by grinning. “Do you know who you’ll be rooming with in college?” I burst out.
“Shane?” My name mixed with his deep voice . . . damn, that sounded sort of—sexy? Whoa! I looked away from him, feeling the heat rise to my cheeks. Where the hell did that come from? “We’re gonna be roomies,” he said.

Get the book:

Book 2, St-St-Stuffed

Blurb:

Other than his most prized Lamborghini, Karl Andrews has nothing to his name. He’s down on his luck and his dollar, and his dream of becoming a professional chef is looking more and more like a pipe-dream. Even less than a pipe-dream when restaurants won’t even take him on as a waiter. And he won’t ever, no not ever, consider selling his one possession. No matter how much he could make from it. Just wasn’t going to happen.

He’d rather . . . rather . . .

Hell, he’d rather apply for that position to be a Girl Friday.
Other than the title, the job sounds all right. Bit of cooking, cleaning—nothing he can’t handle.

Really.

Until he goes to the interview and discovers the man looking for the help is the same man he’d bullied, mocked, terrified as a boy. But Paul Hyte is obviously a better man, gracious and forgiving. And trusting—as the biggest part of the job requires looking after his son.

Despite the initial forgiveness, things are tentative between Karl and Paul, and they’ve both got to reconcile their pasts if they want any type of proper closure. As the two men learn more about each other an undeniable attraction grows between them—but can the two manage to forge a future together on such a rocky past and complicated present?

Get the book:

Book 3, William 

Blurb:

William needs to learn to think before he speaks. He accidentally outed his last boyfriend to his bigoted family. Looking to make a new start, he escapes to the most distant place he can think of: New Zealand. There he boards with a substitute mom and her too-hot-to-be-real son, Heath, but Heath and his homophobic friend Rory want William to leave before things “crash and burn,” whatever that means.


Unfortunately, traveling to the end of the world isn’t far enough for William to lose his runaway mouth.

But is it far enough to lose his loneliness?

Excerpt:

Few things bugged William Sharp. Really bugged him, that was. His damn runaway mouth was one of them, and, as he discovered on his twenty-nine hour journey to the end of the world, so did the Chili Peppers playing on repeat five hours straight. 

Ask him, and he was sure he could regurgitate every line from Californication—and that from hearing it through the headphones of the girl next to him. And hell no, he did not dream of being Californicated—wasn’t even curious, no matter how dirty it sounded. 

Besides, if anything, he was off to be New Zealandificated. 

Dunedinificated to be more precise. And that’s where he was right now, on a bench outside Dunedin Airport, luggage tucked under his knees, watching the student-heavy crowds pouring out of the terminal.

Increasingly nervous at the passing minutes, Will thought about checking his cell once more. He had a right to be nervous too; a week before he was due to leave, the family he was to board with bailed on him when their son decided to move back in. He’d felt like a train-wreck by the time he’d managed to organize something else. 

But surely this wouldn’t fall through too?

Will dug out and checked his cell, re-reading the message Mrs. Wallace had sent him after he had tried insisting he take a shuttle. 

You’ll do no such thing. I’ll be there to pick you up, just wait outside, hun.

He scanned the length of the building either side of him: it wasn’t that big, so if he was at the wrong ‘outside’ he was truly clueless. 

Still, he didn’t see any woman holding his name on a cheesy sign, or any mom-aged woman at all. There were just students, and not returning, mature students like him. Young students.

Looking at them pass, he’d guess the average age was eighteen. His going-on-twenty-seven-self must have looked ancient next to them. Maybe Mrs. Wallace had been expecting someone younger? 

He couldn’t remember whether he’d told her his age or not. She’d interviewed him over the phone, immediately taking a liking to him once he’d introduced himself—he’d even been up front about the whole being gay thing, because he didn’t want it to be an issue. Though he’d had no clue what to do about accommodation if it had been. Lucky for him she’d barely hesitated before going on to ask him if he had allergies. But his age? Maybe she’d accidentally picked up one of these teens. Will wasn’t that uncommon a name; it could happen. Maybe that Will hadn’t cared to clarify either, seeing it would have scored him a free ride and, and—

Gracious, he had to calm down. So what if his ride never came? He was almost twenty-seven—he knew how to order a cab.

He searched the parking lot for said cabs and started to feel his heart pump ridiculously fast when he didn’t see any. Christ. What on earth was he doing here if getting transport into town was freaking him out?

As he shook his head, mumbling to himself, he caught sight of a line of white cars just up from him, with green Dunedin signs and a number scrawled on the sides. Yep, there they were, right under his nose. He was an idiot. A blind idiot.

A guy he’d noticed a few minutes earlier, standing at the edge of the building with his hands in his pockets and cap shadowing his face, paced a few steps in his direction and away again looking equally frustrated. 

He’d wait ten more minutes and if they were both still stupidly sitting/standing there he’d suggest they share a fare into town. 

In the meantime, he wasn’t averse to just looking at said Standing Guy. He was tall, measuring him up to the students walking past him, and damn if he wasn’t the type he could get lost in; absorbing his every aspect. 

Hmm, maybe Mrs. Wallace not showing up could be a good thing. . . .

Standing Guy leaned his trim figure and a shoulder against the wall and crossed his arms. His sleeves were shoved up, showing off his slightly tanned, corded muscles—not that it was his arms he was really focusing on, how could he when there was such an ass to ogle and—Stop objectifying! 

He pointedly jerked his head toward a fresh crowd filtering out the doors, and lazily followed a couple of girls wearing what looked like all of their clothing layered on top of each other, topped with thick winter coats. They had to be sweating on a warm day like this. He was just right in his slacks and t-shirt, though it helped he sat in a wedge of sunlight. 

Again he checked his phone. Ah, dammit, whatever—he was done with waiting. 

He stood up, ready to waltz over to Standing Guy and suggest they snag a cab together, when his foot caught on the corner of his suitcase. He toppled forward, drawing attention to himself by whipping out a curse as he stumbled. 

“You all right there?” came a male voice along with the sound of footsteps. 

A blur of blue jeans hit his peripheral vision, and he knew by the frayed bottom edges it was Standing Guy. Will scrambled up, wishing he could keep his warm cheeks hidden.  Okay, so maybe there was more that bugged him than he thought—he also hated how clumsy he could be. 

He forced himself to meet Standing Guy’s gaze. “Thanks, I’m f-fine. Just have two left feet.”

“And a colorful mouth. I’ve never heard of that curse.”

“I can blame my sister for that—she taught me all the curses I know.”

He plunked himself back on the bench and fiddled with the zips of his suitcase like he had a purpose, when in fact, if anything, he just wanted to rip the zips off in punishment for tripping  him up and making him look as stupid as he probably was.

Standing Guy slipped onto the other end of the bench, and Will dropped the zips and looked at him again. He hadn’t seen it so well before, hidden under his brown cap, but now Standing Guy was closer he could see the guy’s mouth was full and sharp, and his nose was almost Greek, but for a small dent at the bridge. Neither of those held anything to his steel-blue eyes. Steel-blue eyes that were smiling at him. Sweet potatoes. He gulped.  

“You’re American, right?” came his deep voice again.

“Yeah,” Will said slowly, analyzing the situation. Standing Guy had sat next to him, now he was continuing to chat. Was he—could it be possible—interested in him? That was probably too good to be true. Nevertheless. . . .

Get the book:

And book 4, The F Words

Blurb:

Rory A. Phillips is sick of being haunted. Sick of hurting. Sick of being so fucking lost. Whenever he ‘sees’ his best friend William, he’s packing up his motorbike and on the move. But is there a place he can run to that will ever be free of William? A place where he could ever learn to love? A place he can call home?

After losing his last living relative, Eric Graham moves to Wellington to start a new job and a new life. Alone—save for his grandpa’s ashes he can’t bring himself to scatter in the sea. The only guy in the city he knows is a homophobic prick that he’d rather have nothing to do with—but he just can’t stop running into him.

Rory and Eric, both grieving and alone, are searching for a way to move on.

And maybe the best way to do that is together.

Get the book:

Five Little-Known Facts

Today, I want to share five facts about me that not many people know…

1. My summer job after high school was three months picking cherries in Marlborough, a region at the top of New Zealand’s South Island. I lived in a makeshift commune in a tent, sleeping bag, and no foam mattress. I had a bike to get from the farm to a little town for food and supplies and I’d bike through the vineyards. A week into my job, while biking over a rocky path, I caught a glimpse of very toned shirtless guys picking grapes. 
   
   I may have kind of done a double-take. One so, hmm, enthusiastic, that I jerked my handles and flipped over the front and broke my collarbone.
   
   Trust me, I learned my lesson about gawking at hot guys. Especially since those very shirtless guys had to help me back to the commune. The mortification. The sucked up pain in the name of vanity. 

2. I know a thing or two about martial arts and self-defense, but it’s something I usually don’t think or talk about. So imagine my husband’s face when I quite literally floored him (11 years into our marriage) ;-)
   
3. I can do a crazy scary voice… Like Gollum on crack. Let’s just say, I’m not allowed to use it anymore around the kids. Certainly not if I want to sleep through the night.

4. I went to an all-girls Catholic high school where I totally crushed on my math teacher and wore a uniform with a tie. To this day, whenever my husband wears a tie for work, I’m the one that does it for him.
   
5. Coffee tastes so much better from a cup than from a glass, so when my favorite café switched to glasses for big cappuccinos, I had to move to the small one that still comes in a cup! Also, I am really super snobby about my coffee. I can wax poetic about the virtues of a good bean.

About the author:

A bit about me: I'm a big, BIG fan of slow-burn romances. I love to read and write stories with characters who slowly fall in love.

Some of my favorite tropes to read and write are: Enemies to Lovers, Friends to Lovers, Clueless Guys, Bisexual, Pansexual, Demisexual, Oblivious MCs, Everyone (Else) Can See It, Slow Burn, Love Has No Boundaries.

I write a variety of stories, Contemporary MM Romances with a good dollop of angst, Contemporary lighthearted MM Romances, and even a splash of fantasy. My books have been translated into German, Italian, French, Spanish, and Thai.

Website | Newsletter | Facebook | Twitter | Instagram | Bookbub

Giveaway:

a Rafflecopter giveaway

Thanks for coming by to celebrate this fabulous author with us. Stop by again next week for more of Anyta's books, a personal story she's chosen to share, and another chance to win.

Until then, happy reading!