by Hank Edwards

Book Cover: Guitars and Cages
Editions:ePub: $ 2.99
Pages: 455

Asher Logan is a bartender and a pretty wicked guitar player, when he isn’t wrecking his hands fighting in a cage. With a past he keeps hoping to outrun, Asher’s been on a downward spiral for longer than he can remember. When his sister-in-law leaves Rory, his eight-year-old nephew, in his care, Asher is forced into two things he’s never been good at: sobriety and responsibility. As he struggles to care for Rory, his own life begins to unravel.

When Asher’s brother, Alex, turns up, presenting as a girl and announcing her new name is Alexia, it further complicates matters, as does the arrival of his new neighbor, Conner.

When the siblings’ older brother, Cole, reacts violently to Alexia, Asher is placed squarely in the middle of a family conflict which compels him to confront who he pretends to be versus who he really is.

Asher must choose who to trust and who to finally walk away from.

Warning: Self-harm, suicidal ideology, transphobia, accident/injury/death, cage fighting, fire, attempted suicide, threats of violence, dysfunctional family, mentions of past trauma, abusive parent (past)

Cover Artists:

“Uncle Asher, Uncle Asher!”

Oh God, one more hour of rest, please, is that too much to ask? One more hour, and then I swear, I’ll get up and take the kid to the park or the zoo or the aquarium or the movies or wherever the hell it is that he’s gonna beg for me to take him today. I’ll get him McDonald’s, an ice-cream sundae, a slice of his favorite pizza, anything for sixty more minutes of sleep. And yet still the bouncing continued, as well as the loud repeating of my name. Apparently, silence wasn’t making the point and the kid wasn’t gonna go away without some sort of verbal acknowledgement from me. I groaned, and he began his singsong chant again. When the hell did they grow outta that shit, anyway?

“Uncle Asher, Uncle Asher, Uncle Asher, Uncle Asher!”

Every word punctuated with a bounce, goddammit all; whoever said you had to die to be in hell was a bloody fool.


Rory!” I roared, realizing as he toppled from the bed and landed on the floor with a thud that I’d likely scared the hell out of him.

Silence, oh blessed, blessed silence.

“Uncle Asher?” he asked hesitantly now, and much, much quieter. I groaned, as the silence had been far too fleeting.

“Rory, is the apartment on fire?” I asked, refusing to pull the pillow away from my face and acknowledge the sunlight that I knew was shining into the room.


“Are the cops at the door?”

“No,” he responded with a bit of a sigh.

“Is the whor... err, my girlfriend at the door?” I asked, hoping he hadn’t caught my little slip.

“Uh-uh,” he said solemnly. Well, that was a good thing, anyway; I was beginning to not be as fond of her as I’d once been.

“So, is the Super at the door demanding rent?” I asked, figuring that was a bit of a long shot since I’d paid the rent at the start of the week.

“Nope,” he said, and I could feel him climb up and sit on the edge of the bed.

“Has the zombie apocalypse started?”

“Uhh no, but wouldn’t that be awesome?”

I chuckled into the pillow. Awesome wasn’t quite the word I’d use, but hell, if several people I knew managed to get themselves turned into walking corpses at the very least I could shoot them in the head and actually get away with it.

“Have aliens landed on the roof?” I asked him, and now he was laughing.

“Don’t they only land in cornfields?” he replied, and I groaned and let out a long-suffering sigh.

“So let me get this straight. There’s no mass hysteria, no flames, no one at the door, and no zombies on the streets, and yet you’re waking me up a whole hour before I told you it was okay?”

“Well, yeah, but you gotta get up or you’re gonna be in trouble,” Rory said in a quiet voice that sort of scared me. It certainly got the pillow from over my face, and I opened my eyes, blinking at the soaking-wet form of him sitting on my bed. Why was he soaking wet and fully dressed and getting water all over the place? And did I really want to know?

“What did you do?” I groaned. I don’t wanna know, I don’t wanna know, I don’t wanna know, a voice inside my head practically screamed as I could hear what sounded like running water hitting the floor in the other room. I threw the sheet aside and bolted toward the sound—too fast, because as soon as I hit the next room I went skidding across the damned linoleum floor and crashing into the kitchen cupboards.




Reviews:Adina Grey on Goodreads wrote:

Holy Moly, Mrs Dorine where have you been so far? This goes on my Top Ten best authors list.
Just wow! This book shattered my heart, but in a good way if that makes sense. No? Well, trust me, go read it and then we can talk about it. I rooted for Asher, felt every struggle and pain, and even cried for him. This book is truly amazing!

About the Author

Hank Edwards has been writing gay romantic fiction for more than twenty years. He has published over thirty novels and dozens of short stories. His writing crosses many sub-genres, including romantic comedy, contemporary, paranormal, suspense, mystery, and wacky comedy.

He has written a number of series such as the funny and spooky Critter Catchers, Old West historical horror Venom Valley Series, suspenseful Up to Trouble series, and the very erotic and very funny Fluffers, Inc., He is also part of the shared universe Williamsville Inn series of contemporary gay romance books that feature stories by Brigham Vaughn as well. He's written a YA urban fantasy gay romance series called The Town of Superstition, which is published under the pen name R. G. Thomas.

No matter what genre he writes, Hank likes to keep things steamy, kind of sassy, and heartfelt. He was born and still lives in a northwest suburb of the Motor City, Detroit, Michigan.

Other Books By Hank Edwards