The nation as we know it is a thing of the past.
With the male species on the verge of extinction, a society called the End Men is formed to save the world. Folsom Donahue is one of twelve men whose sole purpose is to repopulate the Regions. The endless days spent having sex with strangers leaves Folsom with an emptiness no amount of women, money, or status can fill.
Gwen has wanted a child for as long as she can remember, but when she finally gets a chance to have her own, she uncovers a long hidden truth. The injustice she sees moves her to help save the men whom no one else believes need saving.
A forbidden love, grown in a time of despair, ignites a revolution.
Folsom and Gwen, torn between their love for each other and their sense of duty, must make a choice. But some will stop at nothing to destroy them.
Folsom is book one of the End of Men series.
Goodreads Link: https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/39934742-folsom
It’s the little one who interests me, her hair more tangled than her sister’s, like she didn’t bother with it at all. Her eyes are curious and wild: brown, common and yet uncommon in the way they slant upward at the outside corners. She stands in the foyer, her hands clasped at her waist, but instead of studying my body like most women do, her head is tilted to the side, eyes fixed on my boots. I clear my throat to get her attention and she drags her eyes away from my feet and back to my face. She frowns and shakes her head like she’s just realizing where she is.
“Your boots are beautiful,” she finally says. From somewhere beside me her sister groans and her mother lets out what I take as an embarrassed laugh.
“Thank you,” I say, unable to keep the humor from my voice. “I designed them myself.” I don’t usually tell people that but she seems genuinely interested.
“You design clothes?” she asks, surprised.
“You’re surprised that I’m good at something other than fucking?”
Her mother makes a choking noise, but we both ignore it, our attention solely focused.
“Yes, I’m quite surprised,” she says. “Though I can’t attest personally to the fucking part…”
“Yet,” I say.
“Yet,” she echoes, with a slight nod of her head.