Release Day Blitz! Excerpt & Giveaway: Wolf Bait, Wolf Cove #1 by Nina West

WOLF BAIT is the first book in the Wolf Cove Series. When life turns to hell, most people talk about running away. Abbi Mitchell actually does it. Determined to escape her humiliating heartbreak and her overbearing mother, Abbi takes a summer job at a resort in Alaska. It's supposed to be four months of snow-capped mountains, peaceful wilderness, and figuring out if she should wait for her lifelong sweetheart to come back, as he has promised he'll do. Instead, it's Henry Wolf. Owner of the luxury hotel chain, Henry Wolf is cool and composed, successful with everything he touches, and undeniably beautiful. And for some reason Abbi can't fathom, he wants her—the farm girl from small town, USA with no corporate experience—as his personal assistant. Abbi scrambles to meet his professional demands while she battles her growing attraction to him. Physical feelings she shouldn't have because he's her boss, because she's way out of her league with him, and because they'll never be reciprocated. Until they are. Will Abbi be able to let go of herself—her values, her dreams, and her inhibitions—to give him all that he's demanding of her?

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~*~

When things take an ugly turn, people are always saying they’re going to pick up and move far away. Australia, France, anywhere that puts an ocean between them and their problems. Most don’t ever act on that. I certainly had no intention of doing so.

And then I went to that job fair in the city library, more than a little panicked about what I was going to do this summer. Recruiters were peddling administrative and counselor positions, trade internships, day care. Nothing I was interested in. Plus, they were all local Chicago-based positions. The last thing I wanted to do was stay in Chicago for the summer. I needed to separate myself from it and its bitter memories, if for only a few months until school started again in the fall.

But the idea of going back to Pennsylvania, where everyone including the cows had heard the nitty-gritty details about my breakup with Jed, was even more unappealing.

That’s what happens when you grow up in a small town and then go away to college with your high school sweetheart, who’s also the reverend’s son, who you were supposed to marry the summer after you both graduate college.

Who you’ve been saving yourself for.

Who you caught with his pants down and thrusting into some raven-haired jezebel.

And, while in the depths of despair, though you know better, you tell your upstanding, churchgoing mama, who is known around town as much for her raspberry pie as for her big mouth.

That scandal sure gave the folks of Greenbank something to talk about during Pennsylvania’s long, cold winter. It’s been months since D-Day, or what I like to call Dick Day, when I caught him. February 2, to be exact.

I’m sure tongues were wagging across pews during church service. When I visited over Easter weekend though, I got nothing but sympathetic nods and pats. Jed, sitting in the pew directly across from us, earned more than a few glowers. Not everyone shared those feelings, though. His father, Reverend Enderbey, decided that giving a sermon on man’s weakness for carnal flesh and the need for forgiveness and understanding would be more appropriate than discussing the resurrection of Christ that day.

Much like Jed promised me, Reverend Enderbey has promised my parents that this is just a momentary blip in Jed’s faith; that he’s feeling confused and needs to sort out his priorities. He’ll come back to me, after he’s done sowing his wild oats.

Why do they all think I’ll want to take him back?

He broke my heart that day, and has continued breaking it daily, every time I see him walking hand in hand around campus with her.

He’s not just sowing wild oats. They’re dating now.

So when I passed by the Wolf Hotels booth at the job fair a month ago and spotted the pamphlet with a beautiful vista of snow-capped mountains and forest, I immediately stopped and started asking questions, and within ten minutes I knew thatWolf Cove was my ticket away from sadness, temporarily at least. I just needed to get myself to Homer, Alaska. They’d provide transportation to the hotel, subsidized accommodations and meals onsite, and weekly transport to Homer, if needed, and in turn I’d work like a dog and keep my mind occupied.

The best part? It was almost 3,800 miles from everything I know.

~*~

Nina West lives in the city but spends her summers in the wilderness with her husband. She loves having a steaming cup of cocoa in one hand and a steamy story full of angst in the other. Follow her on Facebook or on Twitter!

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Release Day Blitz! Excerpt & Giveaway: Exchange of Hearts by N.R.Walker

Eighteen-year-old Harrison Haddon has grown up alone. Surrounded by wealth, nannies, and material things, all he craves is the approval of his father. Sent away to the boarding school his father and grandfather attended, it’s assumed he will follow in their footsteps from Sydney’s prestigious Ivy League school straight into medical school.

But Harrison doesn’t want to be a doctor.

He dreams of music and classical piano. His only true happiness, his escape from the world expected of him, is dismissed by his intolerant and emotionally detached parents.

Levi Aston arrives from London for a three-month student exchange program. Free-spirited and confident in who he is and what he wants to do with his life, Levi convinces Harrison not give up on his dreams.

But convincing Harrison not to give up on his family might not be so easy.

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~*~

SYDNEY

CHAPTER ONE

I walked side by side with the blonde, well-dressed woman and ignored the looks and laughter from the other guys.

Along with our student advisor, Miss Goff, I’d been relegated as the welcoming committee to the new kid. As part of a student exchange program, a kid from England was joining the ever-so-prestigious St. Michael’s Boarding School for three months.

So, why me? Why did I get picked to go?

Because he was going to be my roommate. That was why.

As we got to the car, Miss Goff stopped. “Oh, I just remembered I left the file in my office. I’ll be right back, Harrison,” she told me. “Wait here. I won’t be a minute.”

As she turned and walked briskly back toward the building, I leaned against the car, knowing the other kids would soon start with the slurs and teasing. I looked up, and of course it was him I saw.

“Have fun with Miss Goff,” Carson taunted me suggestively. The other boys laughed. His personal entourage, of course they laughed. They were all rugby players, and I was the music nerd. Tall and thin, my dark hair made my skin look paler than it really was, with long piano-playing fingers, and I was usually alone—I was the opposite to their athletic builds and jock-pack mentality. Carson laughed the loudest. “No making out with the teacher at the airport, Haddon.”

I didn’t even bother with a comeback. Why fucking bother?

He knew damn well she wasn’t my type.

She. No, shes were not my type at all.

He knew this. He knew it damn fucking well. Because he and I had fooled around together. On the quiet, of course. In the darkened privacy of his room, only when he was certain there was no one else around, when it suited him.

Just kissing mostly, rubbing, dry humping—whatever the fuck you wanted to call it.

Making out. First base. Whatever.

It was after our last encounter that things changed.

It was about two in the morning and we’d been making out in his bed. We were both so hard, and he was whining and moaning as we writhed against one another. So I slipped my hand under the waistband of his boxers, and I gave him a hand job.

Skin on skin.

I wrapped my hand around his dick, pumped and squeezed him, and not a moment later he came.

It was the fucking hottest thing. Ever.

But afterwards, when his mind had cleared of his jizz-high, he was… different. He pulled away from me and suggested coldly I go back to my room.

It was too real for him.

I figured he just needed a day or two and then things would go back to normal.

But they didn’t. They got worse.

The jokes, the taunting. It had been over three months now, and he still made fun of me. Although I could see it in his eyes, as he was saying hurtful things, his eyes were saying sorry.

And I couldn’t bring myself to say anything back. I just… couldn’t.

“You ready, Harrison?” Miss Goff’s voice startled me. She had a manila folder in her hand. “We’d better go if we’re going to be there when the plane arrives. We don’t want to be late.”

After we got into the car, she handed me the folder and then pulled out onto Ryde Road traffic, heading toward the city. I held the folder in my hands, not even bothering to open it. I couldn’t care fucking less about some foreign exchange student. If I had to put up with a roommate, I didn’t want to look at his face for any longer than necessary.

Miss Goff sensed my mood. “Don’t worry about those boys,” she told me. “People like Carson Sinclair aren’t worth your time.”

I snorted. If only she knew.

We drove for a few minutes in silence. Then she asked, “How’s the music coming along?”

We discussed my music for the rest of the drive. It was an easy subject for me, my love of piano, even though she knew I couldn’t make a career out of it. But thankfully before too much longer, we were walking into Sydney Airport’s International terminal.

I figured this kid would take a while to get through customs and there’d be some kind of paperwork to fill out—I was also guessing you couldn’t just walk into the airport and take some random kid. So presuming it was gonna take a while, I told Miss Goff, “I’m just going to grab a Coke. Can I get you anything?”

She was distracted enough, double-checking the board of flight numbers and arrival gates, and without looking at me, she shook her head. “No, thank you,” she said, before reminding me, like I was five years old and not eighteen, not to wander off, not to go too far, and to come straight back.

I grabbed a drink, and keeping an eye on Miss Goff every now and then, I browsed through magazine racks. There was nothing really worth looking at—a nice one with Hugh Jackman on the cover, but I noticed two guys near the wall looking at a map. Obviously backpackers or hikers or something. They were dressed in cargos and T-shirts, hiking shoes; young, fit, healthy.

Hot.

I picked up a magazine and pretended to read it, but really I was just checking the two guys out. I didn’t often get the opportunity to perv on guys, so I took my time.

Only they caught me staring, smiled politely and moved on. They walked past some other guy who seemed to have been watching me watching them, because he was trying not to laugh.

He was cute too; tall as me, blond-brown messy hair, blue eyes, pale skin, and his pink lips gave him a nice smile. He looked fit but not like the football meatheads back at school.

I wasn’t embarrassed to have been caught looking—even in full school uniform, no one here knew me, and Miss Goff was nowhere in sight. So I decided to play it up. I looked him up and down, shrugged one shoulder, gave him one raised eyebrow and half a smirk.

He grinned, then turned his head quickly like someone called his name.

Exactly like someone called his name.

Like Miss Goff.

Fuck.

Oh, you have got to be fucking kidding me!

That was him?

My roommate for the next three months was the guy I just checked out?

I watched—like a slow motion car crash—as Miss Goff greeted him and offered to take his suitcase. She looked up, saw me, and called me over. His eyes followed hers, and when he saw it was me, his eyes widened, and he grinned like the Cheshire fucking cat.

I stuffed the magazine back in the rack and walked over, wishing the world would end in the next two seconds.

No such luck.

“Levi Aston?” Miss Goff said.

“Yes, Miss,” he said with a posh British accent and a smile.

She grinned. “We’d like to welcome you to Sydney, Australia. St. Michael’s is proud to have you,” she said. Then she looked at me, “This is Harrison Haddon. He’s a boarder. He’ll be your roommate and can show you around the school.”

Levi extended his hand and looked at me with a knowing smirk. “Hello, Harrison.”

Fuck. My. Life.

“Hello,” I said, shaking his hand for as long as was considered polite, then let it drop.

I was in such deep shit.

~*~

N.R. Walker is an Australian author, who loves her genre of gay romance.

She loves writing and spends far too much time doing it, but wouldn't have it any other way.

She is many things; a mother, a wife, a sister, a writer. She has pretty, pretty boys who live in her head, who don't let her sleep at night unless she gives them life with words. 

She likes it when they do dirty, dirty things...but likes it even more when they fall in love.

She used to think having people in her head talking to her was weird, until one day she happened across other writers who told her it was normal. 

She's been writing ever since...

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Book Blitz! Excerpt & Giveaway: How We Began Anthology

How does love begin? A glance, a gesture, an unexpected offer of help from a stranger…or from a good friend. A smile across a counter at a coffee shop or video store. A secret revealed in a song from another place and time. Or in a love ballad crooned at a high school dance.

In this anthology of never-before-published sweet LGBTQ+ stories, seven authors explore the beginnings of love between young and new adult couples. All proceeds will support The Trevor Project’s work with crisis intervention and suicide prevention for LGBTQ+ youth.

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~*~

TruNorth by Alexis Hall

We play the O3 in London.

The crowd is amazing, filling up this vast dome. When there’s that many people, they look like coloured beads, shaken back and forth by these huge ripples of motion.

They’re here for us. To see us.

There’s something almost physical about so much excitement and anticipation and all this… I don’t know what else to call it except love. Surging towards the stage, beating against my body, as if it’s trying to push right inside me. I never know if I’m flying or drowning or dying.

But when I’m here, when I’m on stage and my face is on the screens and my voice is everywhere, I don’t care.

It’s weird because it’s not the sort of thing you can really seriously want or imagine wanting. It’s too big. Too impossible.

But now I know what it’s like, I do want it. I want it so badly it tastes like blood in my mouth.

We close with Something About You—our first number one.

I wish you could see what I see when I see you

Cos then you’d believe there’s no reason to doubt you

You’d know how your smile lights up my world

Because to me, oh to me

There’s something about you.

It’d been waiting for us after The Next Big Thing. All we had to do was record it. The video’s a bit rough around the edges. Not the video itself—it’s Glyde’s handiwork, so slick as slick as can be—but us.

Still learning our parts.

It’s effortless now, though. We know how to move and how to stand together. Whose arm should be flung across whose shoulder. Who keeps his hands in his pockets. Who tucks his thumbs in his belt.

Max, Me, Oli, Rayan, Callum.

All choreography, but it’s meant to look natural.

Glyde calls it “coordinated anarchy”. Vigorous young animals having the time of our lives.

He really does call us that. With this awful fondness.

We’re doing it now. Running to the edge of the stage, waving, blowing kisses, swapping places, jumping past each other, coming together at last. I rest an elbow on Max’s shoulder, put my left arm round Oli. Rayan leans against him on the other side. Callum, on the far end, folds his arms. Close but not touching.

We’re publicity-still perfect.

We did good tonight. I know we did.

Adrenaline sparks beneath my skin even as my breath slows and my heart calms. It’s a hectic, electric feeling, not quite like happiness. This moment when I blur so absolutely into who I’m supposed to be and everything else falls away.

~*~

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Audiobook Review & Giveaway! Until Forever Comes, Mates #2 by Cardeno C.

Written by: Cardeno C.

Narrated by: Charlie David

Length: 5 hrs and 54 mins 

Unabridged Audiobook 

Release Date:09-22-15 

Publisher: The Romance Authors, LLC

A sensitive wolf shifter and a vicious vampire challenge history, greed, and the very fabric of their beings in order to stay together until forever comes. Plagued by pain and weakness all his life, Ethan Abbatt is a wolf shifter who can't shift. Hoping to find an honorable death by joining his packmates in a vampire attack, Ethan instead learns two things: Draining his blood releases his pain and his wolf, and he has a true mate: a vampire named Miguel. More than four centuries old, strong, powerful, and vicious, Miguel Rodriguez walks through life as a shadow, without happiness or affection. When a young shifter tells Miguel they're true mates, destined to be together, Miguel sends him away. But Ethan is persistent, and being together comes so naturally that Miguel can't resist for long. The challenge is keeping themselves alive so they can stay by each other's side until forever comes.

 

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Until Forever Comes is the second installment in the Mates series. We finally get to read the story of Ethan and Miguel, the mysterious couple who made a short but interesting appearance in volume one.

Ethan has always been the weakest in his family. Not able to shift and being always sickly, he’s completely aback when his life changes unexpectedly during what was supposed to be a suicide mission.

Miguel is a loner, has always been during all the centuries of his existence. He’s strong enough and vicious enough to have earned everyone’s respect or, at least, have them fear him.

He doesn’t need nor does he want a mate, especially when that mate is a shifer. Vampires and shifters don’t mix. Ever.

To be together they’ll have to face one danger after another and, while Miguel is powerful, they might never make it out alive to face eternity together.

As much as I loved Wake Me Up Inside, this volume was a bit slow. I found myself skimming a little bit over the sex scenes since they were quite a few. It dragged and I couldn’t quite feel the connection between the characters. 

But, there was enough action and intrigue to keep me glued to it until the end, though. I can’t say it was a waste of time. It’ll give you a glimpse into the past and how things happened, how certain feuds started and why so, you’ll understand better the events mentioned in volume one and those that will probably happen in volume three.

The narration is great. Charlie David did a wonderful job, as always. I love his voice. He definitely makes my “favorite narrators” list. He knows how to convey every emotion, every aspect of a character’s personality. The easiness with which he switches from one character to another, from one emotion to another makes him such a great choice when it comes to narrating an audiobook.

So, if you’re into shape shifters, you should definitely give this book, actually, the entire series a try. Totally worth it. 

Happy reading!

Cardeno C. - CC to friends - is a hopeless romantic who wants to add a lot of happiness and a few "awwws" into a reader's day. Writing is a nice break from real life as a corporate type and volunteer work with gay rights organizations. Cardeno's stories range from sweet to intense, contemporary to paranormal, long to short, but they always include strong relationships and walks into the happily-ever- after sunset. Cardeno's Home, Family, and Mates series have received awards from Love Romances and More Golden Roses, Rainbow Awards, the Goodreads M/M Romance Group, and various reviewers. But even more special to CC are heartfelt reactions from readers, like, "You bring joy and love and make it part of the every day."

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Release Day Blast & Giveaway! Everything to Me, Everything to Me #1 by Teresa Hill

 

 

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DANA: I’ve always been the smart girl, the careful one.

Not anymore. I feel reckless, desperate. I love him, and it’s senior year, my last chance with him before I leave for college, so I’m going to take it.

What could go wrong? Oh, my God, I had no idea.

PETER: I’ve spent years trying to hide how I feel about her. It gets harder every day.

For so long, she was my best friend, the first person who truly believed in me, sometimes the only one.

Do I love her? Of course, I do. Can I let her get even deeper into the hellacious mess my life is?

No way. You don’t do that to someone you love.

Everything to Me, the Prequel is FREE!

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Peter: I've always felt like I was saving myself for her. 

Not that way. Not sexually. Saving my life. Trying to be smart about what I do. Actually giving a damn. Because I matter to her. It’s something I’ve never had -- anyone who cares like she does -- and it’s absolutely amazing.

She’s amazing, this very good girl I can not have. Her dad made that clear the night he caught us together, but that’s not enough to stop me from me from wanting her.

Still, it would be a completely selfish move on my part to draw her any deeper into my life. I just heard my mom’s getting out of prison early. Not for good behavior. Because of overcrowding. Life was always crazy with mom. If she comes back, if she wants me back, my life turns to crap. I know that, and at sixteen, I don’t think I can do anything about it, except maybe run as far and fast as I can. Even Dana, my very good girl, won’t be able to save me.

Teresa Hill lives in the shadows of the Blue Ridge Mountains with a patient, very understanding husband, one very loud cat and two beautiful, lazy dogs, usually at Teresa's side or under her feet.

Born in Central Kentucky, growing up in a town where the public library was housed in an old church, Teresa came to believe books were sacred things and that being a writer would be the best profession in the world. 

Now a three-time Rita nominee and USA Today Bestselling Author, she has written forty books of romance and women's fiction, with more than 2 million copies in print, for NAL/Onyx, Silhouette, Harlequin and Steeple Hill.

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Excerpt & Giveaway! Duce, World's End #2 by Kai Tyler

Parties and orgies... those are the things Carlos Carmichael wants to do. It's the only way he knows to deal with his life as the son of a notorious cartel boss. He'll get whatever he wants by any means necessary.

Until he tangles with a man who plays by totally different rules.

Dante Orsino has been raised in the old ways of honor, loyalty and respect of the business. His role as mafia underboss is more than just a job. It also makes him an heir to one of the biggest families in the Southern Territories.

When Carlos meets Dante and plays a silly game, their weekend tryst sparks a deadly cartel war.

For Dante there's no other life except—the life. And he wants Carlos in his. But in the New World, a gay man is a dead man. Can he find a way to keep everything he loves and stay alive?

In a new world gone mad, even the good guys are bad. Welcome to the World's End series.

Content warning: This book contains scenes of violence and sex between men.

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~*~

Carlos's POV

"Your first time folding clothes."

I'd been admiring him so much I'd forgotten everything else. His words made me look at my handiwork and my cheeks heated. How did he know it was my first time?

"I-I'm sorry if it's not up to your standard." I felt inadequate and silly that I couldn’t fold my own clothes well.

"You did a good job."

"I did?" Warmth spread across my chest at his approving words.

"Yes, you did. Come here."

I didn't need a second invitation. I hurried to him.

Placing both hands on either side of my face, he stared at me for a minute, the expression in his eyes completely unreadable. Then he jammed his hands into my hair, tugged my head back, and lowered his lips to mine.

I melted against him. In contrast to the hardness of his body, his lips were soft. Full and soft. His tongue explored my mouth. Hungry. Seeking. Savouring. I groaned, grabbing onto his bare back and rubbing my cock against him.He broke the kiss. Nuzzled my chin, my neck. Bristles scoured my skin. Callused hand wrapped around my dick. I gasped for air, leaked pre-cum like a tap. A thumb swiped and he spread the moisture, using it as lubricant as he jacked me.

~*~

Although I’m new to writing MM Romance, I’ve been a reader and lover of the genre for many years. I love writing about gangsters with heart, good men who do bad things to survive in a crazy world. Men who love as fiercely as they fight.

When I’m not helping other authors promote their works, you might find me in a coffee shop, day dreaming about how the cute couple in the corner fell in love. You can also find me online ogling images of hot men, which I do share btw.

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Excerpt & Giveaway! The Forbidden Muse, Inferno Falls #2 by Aubrey Parker

Gavin might just be the music that Abigail yearns for … if only his painful past will allow him to love again.

Just a few months after arriving at Inferno Falls, Abigail can’t see the light at the end of her tunnel. No one can complain about being overworked and broke when the rest of the country’s the same way, but that doesn’t make it any easier when Abigail has to live the story every day. It’s not the work or the meager lifestyle she minds. Abigail wants something more…something inspired…something raw.

Gavin is a grieving musician trying to re-find his inspiration. He’s mourning a crushing loss, and life has become too mundane, too typical, to give him the material for songs that used to come so easy. What could he expect to find in Inferno Falls that would truly stir his heart? After all, he’s been shattered by love too many times to find any comfort in a woman’s arms.

The song begins…

Strings play the moment they meet in Abigail’s section of the Nosh Pit, Inferno Falls’ latest and hippest restaurant, and their pulses thunder like a drumbeat from the moment their eyes touch. Abigail feels a stirring in her heart she never expected, while Gavin goes home to pour his inspiration into music.

But despite their obvious harmony, Gavin’s past won’t let anyone get too close. And after years of heartache, Abigail doesn’t have time for anyone who seems like they’re just playing around. Together they’ll have to learn to sing in chorus, or let the stage lights fade and bow out of each other’s lives for good.

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~*~

He’s on a stool in the stages’s middle, just like last night. He’s monopolizing the entire thing, plopping down, acting like the place is his personal studio. 

He looks up. I don’t have time to look away, and our eyes meet. Now that I’m trapped, I refuse to look away first. I got the upper hand at the end of last night, I think, but Gavin ran off with his skank, so it’s possible he thinks he won. If I’m weak, he might come over and talk to me again, and I don’t want that. So I hold his gaze, and eventually he looks down. Not shamefully, though. He puts his fingers on the strings and strums, as if I barely warrant notice, or a nod, or a smile, or a hello, or any kind of acknowledgement at all. 

I turn back to my bottle chore, but now and again I sneak glances at Gavin. His bearing is obnoxious. The way he’s sitting, the way he’s holding the guitar, the brooding way he refuses to look up and seems lost in the soul of the music — it’s all so obvious. A show. Nothing but posturing. 

I’ll bet he even works on this — not the music he plays, but the way he uses his body to convey an image of the tortured artist. His floppy, vaguely hipster sweater hangs down over faded blue jeans. He’s still unshaven, but the stubble looks exactly the same length as yesterday. His hair is still a mess, but again it strikes me as a contrived mess, like he’s mussed it for effect. 

He probably takes video of himself then plays it back like a coach reviewing past games. 

Was I moody enough? Or could I lift an eyebrow or shake my head slowly, to be more sultry, to get more girls excited? 

It’s not working on me, that’s for sure. 

I look back. Gavin’s head comes up. Again, he looks right at me as he plays. It’s a mock-sad look. Or maybe a dirty look. Something designed to manipulate me. 

There was probably a point where he could have made nice. There’s even a part of me, buried beneath a surprisingly thick wall of resentment, that thinks I might be being unreasonable. Since last night, I’ve had no new Gavin inputs — nothing new he’s had a chance to do wrong. Still, I’ve grown increasingly annoyed with him, and as I listen it’s hard not to consider the possibility that he’s done nothing new, and that I’ve been building my case in his absence. All it’s taken for him to seem more repugnant since last night was to know he exists. 

But the longer we don’t speak, the further we move from possible resolution. 

He could have said hello when he came in, before he started playing. I wouldn’t have run to him and given him a hug, but it might have dulled my edge. 

He could have given me a smile, without saying a thing. Smiles can say a lot. I’d probably have taken his as, I’m still a weasel and I want to get into your panties, but it would have been friendlier than this. 

What is he trying to prove, rehearsing in the main room? There are only four or five people in here at any time, and he’s directly across from me, out of all of them. 

Does he need us to hear his brilliance? How amazing he is on the guitar, playing his … his … 

I don’t know the tune he’s been strumming over and over since he sat down. That’s not surprising. I may have Googled him this morning, and I may have listened to every Firecracker Confession tune I could find on YouTube — even a bootleg of their unreleased album, Brutal Design — but I don’t know all of his songs. 

I do see, now, that most of what he plays is recycled Firecracker content, though. But this isn’t any of that. Last night, I’m pretty sure his entire rehearsal and set was just the YouTube songs, stripped of lyrics and played acoustic. 

I may have listened to every Firecracker Confession song twice this morning, then hit a few more between shifts. I don’t know everything he’s ever done, but I don’t think this was ever on YouTube. 

I have to admit it’s catchy, though I can tell he’s still playing with its shape. There’s little beyond the hook, but I can sense it fleshing out a bit with each replay. As I stew with my back to Gavin, turning bottles that have already been turned, I find myself wanting to hear it again. 

And I can almost hear words, though he’s not singing any. The words are in my head. The kind of refrain my idle brain will attribute to just about any rhythm — a recurring pattern of footsteps, the predictable drip of rain from a leaky gutter. 

The repeated chord progression stops, and the room seems too quiet. I take a few seconds before I turn to see why, sure that Gavin will be walking over, wanting to bug me as he did last night before and after showing his true colors. Good. I’ve been rehearsing witty, cutting responses all day. 

But he’s not even looking in my direction. There’s a young guy onstage with him. A kid in a hoodie with short, bristle-cut hair. He looks about my age, maybe midtwenties. But even the motions of his hands as he talks to Gavin tells me that his words have a maturity beyond his years. And, I suspect, that I’m witnessing a discussion these two have had many times before. 

I’m staring too long and don’t want Gavin to look over and take my look for interest, so I spin and head toward the back room, hoping to find someone to ease my mind of all this confused, disturbing emotion. 

I walk away, realizing I’m humming Gavin’s tune.

~*~

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Excerpt & Giveaway! Paper Dolls, Falling Paper #1 by Ketley Allison

It’s too bad for Scarlet that no matter how sweet a person is, fate can still screw you over.

Now she’s jaded, half of her torn away and the remainder flesh and bones. In her grief, all Scarlet wants to do is to rebel against the life that betrayed her and her roommate provides the perfect lure…

Scarlet awakens when she enters the New York City underground, where vice and fortunes thrive. Hustling, trickery and savagery allow her to discover her true self—-her forgotten soul reemerging. She just can’t promise it’ll come back pure.

It won’t matter that there is a shadow in her periphery. Theo Saxon thinks he can save Scarlet from a world she craves and protect her from the very elements he’s spawned from. But it’s through his unwitting instruction that Scarlet will become a part of his league and find the danger he wants so badly to keep to himself.

Scarlet thinks the stakes are within her control. But she won’t just be betting her heart on Theo and his seductive sins. She will wager her life.

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Something was going to come out of the shadows and shank me.

I clung to the wrought iron fence, staying put despite Verily’s tugs on my arm. Our vulnerable bodies could be seen in every direction on the deserted street. Cars lined the road, but they stood silent, their windows shining onyx pits. Columns of brownstone buildings, bricked into two long, looming lines on either side, blocked the moon. Their rows of windows were as black as the cars below.

Blares of horns ricocheted through our residential street, but their echoes were faint. All signs of life were too far away to save me.

But I agreed to this. I wanted this.

“Relax, Scarlet. I promise it’s safe,” Verily said to me.

Maybe no knife was needed. All the monsters in the dark had to do was bend me over this waist-high fence and spear my abdomen with one of the fleur-de-lis arrowheads, the skirt of my naughty maid’s uniform flouncing in the wind and ruffling around my ass, drawing the eye of anyone who lingered.

And come on, everyone would linger.

A form pushed past us and I tensed, choking on the scream that wanted to rip out of my throat.

The cause of my stroke, a man, paused in his descension into Hell—I mean, at the second step leading down to the entrance of a brownstone. “Hey, Vare. New girl?”

Verily dug her fingers into my arm, since I clearly wasn’t prying my death grip off the fence. “Yep. She’s cute, right?”

He didn’t respond.

I was pretty sure I was gaping at him. Not because of his looks—I couldn’t see him in the surrounding darkness, just an edging of hair and a framing of shoulders. It was more because I couldn’t stop thinking about the newspapers headlining my DEATH BY FENCE AND FETISH! IMPISH MAID CLEANS OUT HER OWN INSIDES!

And it was probably written all over my face.

“She up to it?” he asked.

Verily smacked my shoulder. The fence rattled underneath my grip. “Wait’ll you see her in action.”

One of his shoulders lifted up in a shrug. I found myself wanting to hear his voice again, soft like velvet lined his throat.

He didn’t disappoint. “No reason to be scared.”

“That’s what I keep telling her,” Verily said. She wrapped a hand around my bicep and heaved. She was trying to wrench me free. Damn if I would let her. “I’m extremely convincing,” she said through her teeth.

“Mm.”

He stood with fluidity, a primal ease. He shifted, lifting his chin in a way that accentuated his angular jawline but not much else.

“Anyone gives you trouble, you let me know. They may like dressing you up, but we don’t tolerate any more than that,” he said.

“Okay,” I replied. Finally.

He sounded so adamant and sure. I wondered if all it took in my life was for a man to sound like Batman.

He nodded once before descending the rest of the way. His walk was exactly as I knew it would be. Like a lion pacing the edges of his cage.

“Is he the bouncer?” I whispered into the curled crimson tendrils around Verily’s ear.

“Nope,” she said. After one particularly unfair yank, she pried one of my hands off the iron. “But if he’s here, it means we’re late, so come. On.”

“Ow! Verily!” Another twist and pull and she had my other arm, using my sudden imbalance to drag me down the stairs. “Seriously! Ow!”

She stopped at the door and pressed a hand to my chest, my boobs so hiked up they caressed the bottom of her palm. “Rules. Tell me.”

“W—” I gripped her extended arm for balance. “What’s our safe word? I mean my safe word, to let you know when I’ve gone Code Red.”

Sighing, she dropped her arm. “Have I dragged you here against your will?”

I pouted. “No.”

“Do you need the money?”

“Yes.”

“Would I bring you somewhere unsafe?”

I glanced down at my misbehaving maid outfit, then back up at the entrance where a lithe, vulturine and kind of scary man just decided to stop in and hang out for a while.

I countered with, “Do you possess a danger meter I’m not aware of? A point at which you know we must escape?”

She shook her head. “Honestly, Scar.”

“Because I think you’re on the fritz.”

“You said you needed something,” she said, softer now. “Something to make you feel like you could live again.”

I swallowed. “You told me you were just a waitress.”

“You’re falling, Scarlet. I can’t watch it anymore. And so, I’m giving you this.”

A shuffling sound came from drums of trash behind her. Noises sounding suspiciously like a critter. “You think I need saving and you brought me to a rat-hole?”

“I don’t think you need to be rescued,” she said. “I think you need an awakening.”

That could’ve been a warning or a promise. She went on. “I know you. And I think this is what you need. But you have to promise, promise, not to tell anyone.”

I needed excitement, yes. A pounding pulse, a taste of uncertainty, a reason. I needed life.

But this. Here we were, standing on a dirty side street in the Lower East Side, dressed like a rich man’s blow up doll.

“I don’t…” I said.

“Do you trust me?”

Verily’s green eyes, illuminated by the weak golden light, seemed to shine. She stopped my fidgeting hands by pulling them closer to her.

“Yes,” I answered. Of course. She was the one thing that kept me in the present.

“Good. So trust that this will be fine. And God forbid, that maybe you’ll have fun.”

Grumbling, I said, “Yesterday you were all over me about professional responsibility, and now here we are…”

Instead of responding, she propelled me forward with another mutant-strength twist of her toothpick arms. Verily opened the front door and I toddled after her, mumbling threats involving her hair bleach.

She halted at a second door, arching a brow at me. “Just be thankful I’m not inducting you on lingerie night,” she said, and hip-bumped it open.

After one last pull, I stumbled into my new society of smoke, money and men.

Ketley Allison began her creative career by writing books as birthday presents for her friends (with her friend as the main character and opposite a super sexy lead, of course) before ending it in order to walk down a path she thought she was supposed to follow.

The writing bug never left her—and, in fact, would often bleed into the official papers she was supposed to write—so now Ketley’s putting down her suit and finally following her dream. While her friends are no longer the stars of her books, she still throws in bits and pieces of them into each and every one of her characters.

As a result, her books tend to focus a lot on friendships as well as love, because let’s be honest, friends are what really get you through—especially when your epic love turns into epic heartbreak.

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