Love's Home

Description

Sometimes you need a break, to get away somewhere, but in the end you always return to a place you call home. The saying goes, “Home is where the heart is.” It doesn’t matter if it’s big or small, pretty or shabby, what matters is it’s your Love’s Home.

This collection features five of Iyana Jenna’s best-selling gay contemporary romance stories. A homeless PA finds a home in an actor’s life. An abduction almost steals a man from his loving boyfriend. A love triangle nearly ruins everything. A sex slave is rescued by an unlikely savior. A young man discovers a new home after he loses everything.

Contains the stories:

  • A Home for Jesse
  • A Single Black Rose
  • Misunderstandings
  • Will and Pleasure
  • Ya Like That?

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About the Author

Author Name : Iyana Jenna

     Iyana lives in Jakarta, a city famous for its traffic jams, a lot of cars and motorcycles, and people selling stuff on the roads. You can spend two hours on the road going to a place you can reach in half an hour in a normal situation. Thanks to the traffic jams, though, Iyana can come up with a lot of stories, mostly shorties, as she prefers to spend the time during her trips writing into her cell phone rather than sleeping. Another thing Iyana loves is kitties. Right now she has five of them. Their names are Larva, Nyil, Cil, Betsy, and Horus. When she doesn’t write, she plays with them, or they would play with her when she writes.

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My great grandfather was a Slave

My grandfather was a Native

My grandmother was a Bantu

My mother was a kaffir, Nigga, Negro

Names imposed by shackles

But an Afrakan I am

An identity my forefathers were deprived of

 

An identity I am now polluting with the fumes of cigarettes

In dope I am giving it another face

In ecstasy I am giving it a comical image

My drunken stupor gives it an unstable belonging

My borrowed accent contradicts what it represents

My imitated dress code conceals its beauty

My adopted religion undermines my intellectual prowess

My language deafens my ancestors

My values are valueless

My mind is discriminatory

It repels anything indigenous

Whilst absorbing all that is alien

None can identify with me

Even those I am emulating

Patriotism I reserve for my kind

I look down at my patriots

If I were xenophobic

I could have been my own victim

I pride myself in my slanted inferior education

An education promptly deleting my true history

Ignorance is my custom

I am dreaming dreams my forefathers cannot interpret

I am singing praise songs for my dying culture

I am branding a heritage

I cannot inherit

Knowledge of freedom is embedded in my subconscious

But suppressed by fear

Fear to develop my culture and identity

Fear to be rejected by the world

Fear to be different and still love myself

Yet with no identity I remain

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