More Than Words

More Than Anything
August 18, 2015
No Right Words
August 19, 2015
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More Than Words

Alex is tired. Tired of being bullied, ignored, and tired of his dysfunctional parents. He cleans out his locker, so no one else has to do it for him once he’s gone. When his books are knocked out of his hands, however, it sets off a motion of events that makes him feel more alive than he ever has before.

Andreas is the best friend of one of Alex’s bullies, but he’s nothing like his friend. Andreas is kind and compassionate and charming—and he doesn’t seem to mind all of Alex’s scars. When it turns out Andreas is also bisexual, and interested in Alex, is all seems too good to be true.

Book Cover: More Than Words
Part of the More series:
Editions:eBook: $ 6.99Kindle: $ 6.99

Alex is tired. Tired of being bullied, ignored, and tired of his dysfunctional parents. He cleans out his locker, so no one else has to do it for him once he’s gone. When his books are knocked out of his hands, however, it sets off a motion of events that makes him feel more alive than he ever has before.

Andreas is the best friend of one of Alex’s bullies, but he’s nothing like his friend. Andreas is kind and compassionate and charming—and he doesn’t seem to mind all of Alex’s scars. When it turns out Andreas is also bisexual, and interested in Alex, is all seems too good to be true.

Published: June 15, 2016
Publisher: Arctic Circle Press
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Excerpt:

Three weeks into school and I couldn’t take it anymore. Either I was being completely ignored by everyone, even the teachers, or I was being called names because of my looks, my mannerisms, or my scars. One would think I’d prefer being ignored, but it was just as bad as being bullied simply because of the way I was.

So I was cleaning out my locker. My books were in a stack at my feet and I was putting a couple of folders and loose papers into my rucksack. I didn’t have much in my locker, but what I did have I was going to take home with me. No one was going to have to do this for me when I was gone. I was doing it myself, like I did everything myself.

I bent to put a few of the books into my rucksack as well. It filled up quickly, though, and I wrestled with the zipper for a moment before I managed to close it.

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Someone bumped into me from behind, sending me crashing into the lockers. I hit my forehead against the cold metal, and I groaned as I squeezed my eyes shut. No more. I hefted the rucksack on my back, lifted the rest of the books into my arms, and stood up. I closed my locker, but I put the padlock in my pocket. No reason to lock it when there was nothing there. When I wasn’t coming back.

My rucksack was heavy and my back was already aching from it, but so were the books I was struggling to hold onto. Why did we have to have so many books, anyway?

“Oi, watch where you’re going!”

A thick-set bloke walked right into me, sending all my books tumbling to the ground. He looked at me, shook his head, and walked away. I couldn’t even master the will to look after him in annoyance. Why was he asking me to watch where I was going? He was the one who’d walked into me. I swallowed heavily, fighting back tears as I bent to pile my books up again.

I could see out of the corner of my eye that someone plucked one of my books up: one that was out of my immediate reach. I reached out for the last book that was lying on the ground, but the person who’d picked up the other one grabbed it before me. I retracted my hand slowly, then raised my head in trepidation. Either this would be someone messing with me, or someone helping me. I wasn’t sure which one I preferred, but I was dreading it all the same.

“Here.” He crouched down and handed me the two books he was holding.

His eyes, a deep shade of brown, met mine. He swam a little before me, as my eyes were filled with tears, but I could still recognise him. Tall, fit, and tanned, with straight blond hair. He was the best mate of one of the arseholes in my class, so I’d seen him in our classroom several times during the two years we’d been in upper secondary school.

“Don’t feel bad,” he said, cocking his head slightly. “Arseholes like him aren’t worth it.”

Why was he being nice to me? I lowered my gaze. I took the books from his outstretched hands and his fingers brushed mine. They were thicker and more calloused than my slender ones. I put the two books on top of the ones I was already holding. I clutched them to my chest.

“Wow, are you spending your entire weekend studying?” he joked.

I clenched my teeth and clutched tighter to my books. I wasn’t going to study. What would be the point? I rose to my feet slowly. I almost lost my balance because my rucksack was so heavy, but I managed to get back up with my dignity mostly intact.

I glanced up at him, since he’d risen with me, but was still standing there in front of me. What did he want? He was watching me and I bowed my head quickly again. Seriously, what did he want with me?

“Do you want to walk with me?” He nodded towards the road, which was the only way leading out of the school area. “Or are you taking the bus?”

“No, I-I’m walking.” I nodded slightly.

“So you want to walk with me?” He took a step away from me, towards the sidewalk on the other side of the road from the school yard. I hesitated, but walking with him couldn’t really hurt, so I eventually followed. He hitched the strap of his bag further up on his broad shoulder, then he turned his head to eye my rucksack. I expected him to make another joke about studying, but he didn’t. “I’m Andreas,” he said instead. “Andreas Lister.”

I already knew his name. “Alex Eknes,” I muttered in reply.

He was looking at me now, not my rucksack, and it unnerved me. “What year are you in? What class?”

“Third year. I’m in Glenn’s class.” Glenn was the tosser of a best mate he had. I couldn’t believe he could be so nice while still being friends with someone who could be so nasty.

“You know Glenn?”

I shuddered at the mere thought. “No, not really.” I shrugged and glanced over at him. This was the third year we were in the same class, but I didn’t think I’d ever had a proper conversation with him. “I know you’re mates, though. I’ve seen you together.” Did that sound a bit stalker-ish? Hell, why did it even matter? Nothing would matter after tonight. So what if I found him attractive and him being nice had me in a state of absolute confusion?

“So where do you live?”

I told him in a mumble, and it turned out I didn’t live far from his place. Only about a ten-minute walk separated our homes. Speaking of home, for each step we were taking, I was getting closer to it. I wondered if my parents were still fighting or if they were ignoring each other. I could never tell which was best; their moods were so volatile.

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Reviews:Jennifer Valencia on Bookaholics Not-So-Anonymous wrote:

More Than Words is the second full-length novel in the More Than Anything series from T.T. Kove, who has now become one of my favorite authors in the gay romance genre. [...] I love how T.T. Kove is able to write these deep, thought-provoking stories of young men who would be considered broken or damaged but are still fixable with the help of love, hope, and persistence.


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