Featured Guest: Maggie Blackbird~ Guest Post #Excerpt #Giveaway

Diverse Reader is so happy to welcome Maggie Blackbird. This is the first time she's on the blog and we are so happy! She's has an awesome guest post, a new book, and a giveaway! Stick around, folks!

Christmas On The Rez

I come from a long line of volunteer firefighters, and everything involved with firefighting.  So I took the plunge around age twenty-six or so and became a volunteer firefighter for our Ojibway community.

Every year, starting when I was a child, the fire department would make their way through the reserve, siren engines blaring, Santa on top of the big fire truck ho ho ho-ing, “Here Comes Santa Claus” blasting through the stereo speakers, the First Nation constables providing an escort with their cherries flashing, and the reserve’s education department bringing up the rear, handing out prezzies to the little ones.

I grew up in Northwestern Ontario.  The cold means nothing to me.  I walk my big artic-bred Alaskan Malamutes in -37 Celsius temperatures, but none of this prepared me for what was in store for the fire department’s latest rookie!

Little did I know that as a rookie, I’d had to get up on the fire truck and play “elf” in my bunker gear, jingling some bells while waving at the crowd.  To say I wasn’t looking forward to this task was an understatement LOL, but I did what was expected of me.

Decorating Santa’s “sleigh” is a big deal, and we meet at the fire hall the night before to ready the truck, ready the speakers, get the music set up, etc.  Only one truck is taken out for the event, and the other two must remain parked in case, God forbid, a fire happens while we’re out bringing joy to the community.

Bunker gear is heavy and well insulated.  It has to be because a firefighter is going into burning houses, and it’s her only protection against the flames and overbearing heat.  I thought I’d be okay sitting two hours on top of the fire truck with nothing to protect me from the biting wind.  Wrong!

The rez is big and consists of various areas where everyone lives.  The fire hall is located in what is known as “main.”  We start at the area known as The Five Mile, which means a long drive up the highway to get there.  For two hours I sat on top of the truck, jingling my bells, waving at the crowd, and listening to “Here Comes Santa Claus” over and over and over.

It got so cold that my bells stopped jingling.  Then they fell off the leather strap one by one LOL.  Soon, I had no bells to jingle by the time we moved at a snail’s crawl to the main area of the reserve.  All I could do was wave.  Being outside, movement is important.  It keeps you warm.  Sitting in the same uncomfortable position, unable to warm up, face no longer freezing but on fire from the frost, I wanted the ordeal done and over with.  Talk about torture.

At least the First Nation constables were inside their warm police cruiser.  At least the education department volunteers got to run about handing out presents.  At least the guys inside the cab of the fire truck had a heater keeping their feet toasty.  And at least Santa got to stand up and wave.  I simply sat, and sat, and sat.

By the time we reached the fire hall, I wanted off.  I was so stiff from the cold and not being able to move that it was a chore to get myself off the truck.  A couple of fellow firefighters always stay at the hall to make sure coffee’s on hand.  A cup of java was the first thing I grabbed.

Although I’ll never forget the cold of that night, the memory always brings fuzzies, because it was wonderful to be a part of something that has been happening since I was a child.  I’d get excited when my dad would head off to the fire hall to meet Santa and ready the jolly guy’s “sleigh.”

Did I ever get back up on the truck and play “elf” again?  Nope.  LOL.  But I was always a part of the custom up until the husband and I moved out to the country.

To this day, Santa still visits the rez and the children every December to ho-ho-ho while his elves hand out presents.

  He’s got the perfect Christmas present for the community’s chief—vengeance wrapped in a shiny box with a red bow on top.

Blurb:  Joseph Slade Indian isn’t angry. He’s pissed. Pissed that the man who threw over his love for glory and money is back, and now leads their Ojibway community as the new chief. Holding the pain deep in his chest, Slade knows how he’ll celebrate the most miserable day of the year—opening a gift of recompense after being dumped by the one man he dared to love.

Gavin Pemmican is full of regret. He knows he made a big mistake leaving Slade for a materialistic dream of power and prestige. No longer the poor bullied misfit but an educated lawyer, he’s ready to put his skills to the biggest case of his life by brazenly challenging Slade in the kangaroo court of sexual torture he’s daring to stick Gavin in—and win back the only man he’s ever loved.

Genre(s):  Multicultural, m/m contemporary romance, adult, LGBT.
Heat Rating: Level 4
Publication Date:  November 29, 2019
Publisher:  eXtasy Books

   Purchase at eXtasy Books

Excerpt

With the last of the staff gone, even the band manager, Gavin unfastened the three top buttons to his crisp navy-blue shirt. His heart kept threatening to tear through the broadcloth fabric.

Only Slade remained, out in the hall, rewashing the floor.

The entire reserve was probably empty on a Friday afternoon, everyone having made the hour-long drive in to town to enjoy dinner and shopping.

The air rolled from Gavin’s windpipe. Moisture gathered at his hairline. If he kept perspiring, the courage he’d gathered to dare try to seduce Slade would hit the floor with his droplets of sweat. There was a sink and soap to clean his face in the men’s washroom, his intended destination.

He huffed a big breath. Slade with the inky-black hair spilling down his back. Gorgeous muscles. Legs past his neck. A broad, square face to match his athletic six-foot body. Gavin had once kissed those muscles. Caressed Slade’s sleek skin. Loved him until the wee hours of the morning.

Gavin stood. You’re the chief. The leader of the community. Act like one.

Well, he sure wasn’t the kick-around, pimply-faced, picked-on kid anymore. He was educated. The dean’s list for his undergraduate degree to be accepted into the Juris Doctor Program at Lakeside university. Articling at the prestigious Bronson, Bronson, and Dowell in Winnipeg. Licensed in the provinces of Manitoba and Ontario.

Specializing in Indigenous law. And junior partner for seven years where he’d articulated. If he hadn’t come home, he would’ve made senior partner. And now he was chief of White River First Nation.

Why couldn’t Slade understand Gavin had had no choice but to leave? He’d loved the man so much. And leaving Slade behind had been the toughest choice Gavin had ever made.

Just like he’d addressed judges on the bench in court, Gavin strolled to the door and opened it, his jaw twitching to match his fierce determination. He’d never lost a case yet, and he wouldn’t lose his appeal to Slade.

When Gavin shut the door and stepped into the hall, the scent of pine cleaner filled the air. His peripheral vision caught Slade a good ten feet down the hall, swishing his mop, the perennial flannel draping his solid muscles, and jeans hugging his strong thighs.

The washroom was across the way. Gavin had never done anything this bold before, but being a lawyer wasn’t for the meek. And his meek days were finished.

He kept his back straight and shoulders square as he confidently strode to the bathroom and disappeared inside. The door clicked shut. His lungs burned from holding his breath. He drew in a big helping of air.

It was time for the next phase of his strategy.

Strategy?

Quit thinking in an administrative capacity.

He tugged on the beaded choker that did exactly what a choker should do—tightened around his throat and cut off his ragged breaths. He lowered his zipper. Be still my beating heart. If he didn’t relax, not only would his plan misfire, so would something else.

About the Author 

An Ojibway from Northwestern Ontario, Maggie resides in the country with her husband and their fur babies, two beautiful Alaskan Malamutes.  When she’s not writing, she can be found pulling weeds in the flower beds, mowing the huge lawn, walking the Mals deep in the bush, teeing up a ball at the golf course, fishing in the boat for walleye, or sitting on the deck at her sister’s house, making more wonderful memories with the people she loves most.

Web Site:  https://maggieblackbird.com/
Goodreads:  https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/18176196.Maggie_Blackbird
Facebook Page:  https://www.facebook.com/maggieblackbirdauthor/
BookBub:  https://www.bookbub.com/profile/maggie-blackbird
Twitter:  https://twitter.com/BlackbirdMaggie/

eXtasy Books:  https://www.extasybooks.com/maggie-blackbird/

Giveaway

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Contest ends December 16th

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