Saturday, February 29, 2020

February Book of the Month: A Light in the Darkness by Alice Winters



Summary:
Felix and Lane are trying out their new normal. Normal means no more car chases, no more drug lords, and definitely no more kidnapping bad guys. All of that is a thing of the past in this new, normal(ish) life style filled with family get-togethers, torturous jogs through the park, and the occasional romp in the parking lot. Felix is done stealing (all but for the cat). He is actually enjoying the boring side of life, especially with Lane by his side doing what he does best: looking handsome. But when Felix’s brother wants to repair their relationship, he brings with him a secret that could cost all of them their lives. Lane isn’t complaining because the thrills of life-threatening situations are right up his alley. They may think they have a handle on the situation, but what they do not know is that someone has been working them from the shadows. Forcing them to do exactly what he wants as he drives them closer to his sick game of life and death.

Join Felix and Lane in a race against time, their only weapons being their humor and their wit.


Felix and Lane just keep getting better and better.  From navigating their ongoing love, the drama of Felix's brother, the the complete awesomeness of Lane's family, Felix's penchant for finding trouble, and of course their wicked banter there is absolutely nothing to not love.

It is characters and stories like Felix and Lane that I've come to classify as "snark and cuddle".  By snark and cuddle I mean they pull no punches in their banter and dialogue but you never doubt for even a split second that it comes 150% from the heart.  They appear to fight and get on each other's nerves but it's done with such deliberate tones of love that it's just a part of who they are, without the banter the love wouldn't be there.  To some people it comes across as mean and spiteful but as someone who grew up in a household with that kind of banter(on a much smaller scale of course) I can spot it a mile away which is why I loved these two men from the very beginning.

As for Felix's brother, well the less I say about him is probably better because Darius is the kind of character you have to experience to understand.  Don't get me wrong, I wanted to hate him, I wanted Felix to get Lane to "work his magic" but I couldn't help but feel there was more going on then what the author was letting us see and boy was there more going on!  That's it! No more in that department you'll get from me other than: when you thought it was over it is so not done. #sorrynotsorry😉😉

I had been hearing great things about Alice Winters' work from friends who's opinions mattered to me and I respected but I never took the plunge until this past November when book 1 came up in 2 different posts I made in a FB rec group.  I absolutely LOVED IT!!!!  Because of the holiday I only read book 1 but 2 & 3 were at the top of my 2020 list.  Now I'm off to read book 3, can't wait to see what's next for Felix and Lane.

RATING:


Chapter One
“Lane!” I scream.

I don’t know where he is, but I can’t get up. I can’t move.

“Lane!”

I might die here if he doesn’t reach me in time.

“What?” he asks as he steps into the living room. He’s a little hesitant as he walks in since he’s still trying to remember where everything is in his parents’ house. Even though he lived in this house as a child, it’s been hard for him to remember the placement of everything now that he can’t see any of it. Probably because he’s so old it feels like a lifetime ago that he lived here.

“What happened?” he asks.

“I ate so much that I can’t move,” I moan from where I lay on the couch. I peek over the armrest to get a good look at him. The first thing I notice isn’t his handsome face covered in just the right amount of stubble. It isn’t the sunglasses that he insists on wearing even when we’re at home. Nor is it his dark brown hair that seems to have a mind of its own. What I do notice is how sweaty he is. He’d been working out on the treadmill in the basement, and now his clothes are sticking to his chest, giving me a very nice view of his muscular frame. “Why is your mother’s cooking so good, Lane?”

He shakes his head, clearly disbelieving the fact that I may die after consuming too much food. “You’re going to turn into an Oompa Loompa if you don’t slow down,” he says.

I snort. “Thanks Lane, you’re the sweetest. I love you the most!” I say sarcastically.

“You do understand that just because she cooks it, doesn’t mean you have to eat all of it, right?” he asks as he slowly walks further into the room.

“It’s like hibernation. I’m creating a fat storage for when we move out and have to go back to starving,” I explain since my cooking is anything but edible. With a yawn, I stretch out my arms just as he touches the back of the couch.

“Well, you’re doing a splendid job of it because I went in to grab a cookie, and the cookie jar is empty. How many did you eat today?”

I watch his handsome face as he leans over me. He may not be able to see me, but he sure can scrutinize me when he thinks I’m not being honest. But I notice that there’s a slight upturn to his lips that makes it hard to keep my grin at bay. I kind of want to lean forward and capture those lips as my own.

“How many what?” I ask innocently. I’m not sure how he could point fingers at me when there are two other people staying in this house.

“How many cookies have you eaten?”

“In the past…five minutes? Or today?”

“Just choose.”

“Lane, I don’t like you making me feel bad about myself,” I say as I push my blond hair out of my face. Lane reaches down and touches my chest before feeling his way to my stomach and patting it.

He looks thoughtful as he feels it over. “That’s weird…it’s about the same size as the cookie jar,” he says.

I laugh and push his hand away. “No! Your mom said I could have them!”

He shakes his head in disbelief. “I heard the phone ring, who called you?”

I sit up as I grimace. “The realtor called, but I told her that we don’t need any of the lies she’s selling.”

“A house? The lie of a house?” he asks.

“Lane…I don’t want to leave,” I say as I look around the quaint living room with its walls smothered in pictures of the family.

If there is a span of the wall twelve inches wide that isn’t covered by a picture of someone in this family, then I’d be willing to bet my right hand that the photo fell down and Lane’s mother hasn’t gotten to putting it back up. It was cute when I first walked in, especially getting to see all the photographs of a young Lane, but the family photo in the bathroom that I have to look at while taking a shit is a bit too much. Yesterday I put a post-it note over everyone’s face in the photograph, and the others must think it’s an improvement because no one’s fixed it yet. Besides the family pictures, there are way too many sunflower decorations, but if I’m being honest, I love every inch of it. Even the picture in the bathroom.

“We can’t live with my parents,” he says.

“Says who? You? Because your mom said we can live with her forever, and I think she meant it.”

He grins as he shakes his head. “She was just being polite.”

“Lane…she loves me,” I say defensively. “Yesterday she bought me Gushers. Have you ever heard of those things? They’re like…gooey on the inside and absolutely amazing.”

“Yes, I’ve heard of Gushers before. So what time are we meeting her?”

“Three,” I say grudgingly. “We’ll leave in about twenty minutes to pick up Copper.”

“Then I better go get a shower,” he says as I stand up. “Can you pick my clothes out for me so we can keep moving?”

“Sure,” I say as I stretch again. These past few weeks have been good to me even though my body has begun to complain about inactivity.

“Thanks,” he says as he reaches for me, most likely to hug me, but I dodge him like the plague.

“I love you, Lane, really I do, but right now you’re past the point of attractive and into the field of disgusting. Way too sweaty,” I say with a grimace because I feel like we are definitely at a good enough point in our relationship where I can tell him how disgusting he is. He’s past the sexy, slightly sweaty version and into the disgusting, don’t touch me version.

“You won’t hug me?” he asks, looking offended.

I can tell he’s joking, but I wrinkle my nose as I stare at him. “Absolutely not.”

“Really,” he says, like his feelings are hurt. “Come on. Give me a hug.” He grabs for me so I scamper away.

“No! Go away!” I say. “I’m getting changed.”

“What? You mean you’re actually going to get out of your pajamas?”

“I feel like you’re being very critical when I’ve needed this time to recover,” I say. “I need to recover from all the shootings, the running, and all that other junk I would like to never think about again.”

“You act like we’ve only been here a couple of weeks. You’ve had a lot of time to recover.”

“Lane,” I say warningly.

“I’m sorry. I’m sure you look very sexy in those pajama pants,” he says.

“They’re your mom’s, so thanks,” I say.

“I don’t know how I feel about that,” he says as his eyebrows furrow.

I laugh and head back for his bedroom.

*****

I pull up to a small brick building with a large painting of a dog overlapping the door. It’s neat until someone opens the door, then it looks like the dog has a big gaping hole in its face.

“I’ll run in and get him since whenever Ned gets a hold of you, he won’t shut up,” I say.

“Good plan,” Lane says, so I get out, leaving the car running.

We had decided that instead of getting Lane a different dog, we would use our dog Copper as a service dog. Since Copper had been trained to be a police dog when he was young, he already has a large range of commands and knowledge. So, a man who works with service dogs agreed to do some private training with him. It was also easier to get Copper registered as a service dog than to get on the waiting list for a trained one, so now all we need to do is teach him a few of the commands.

This is Copper’s fourth week working with Ned, and I’m already not really fond of the man. He’s amazing with Copper, but I’m not sure he likes me or maybe we have a difference of opinion. I drop Copper off in the morning and pick him up later in the day at least three times a week, and he works with him throughout the day. I miss my little Copper when he’s gone, and Lane has to remind me that I have to share Copper when he returns.

I push through the door, into the office area and walk inside to where I notice Ned rushing on by. He’s a lanky man who seems to have one speed.

“Hey, Felix!” he says sounding joyful, like he’s forgotten that the last time he saw me, he chewed me out.

“Hey,” I say with a forced smile. I do not forgive as quickly. “Copper good?”

“He’s fantastic. He picks everything up with ease, and you can tell he loves having a job. At home, I still want you guys just to be working on that follow command. He understands it pretty well, but don’t forget that when he follows, you click and reward.”

“Got it. That’s awesome to hear,” I say with a smile.

“I’ll go get Copper,” he says before disappearing through the open door. He returns after a few minutes with the black German shepherd at his side.

Copper’s tail starts going a hundred miles an hour when he sees me, and no matter how much I want to drop to my knees and pet him, I’m not allowed to say anything to him. The first time we came to pick him up, I greeted Copper with love which in Ned’s eyes is a “preposterous” thing to do. He assured me that I would ruin the dog by giving him such joyous affection as soon as I see him, so I keep my eyes on Ned and take the leash without a word to Copper.

I see Copper’s tail begin to slow as he looks up at me in devastation, black ears falling like he thinks I’m upset with him. “Thanks,” I say grudgingly.

“See how much calmer and wellbehaved he is when you greet him properly?” Ned asks.

“Totally,” I lie as I lead Copper to the door. “See you Monday.”

“Have a good night.”

“Thanks, you too,” I say as I lead Copper out to the blue four-door car. I open the back door and send him inside before getting into the driver’s seat. Then I turn to Copper who is already crawling over the middle console onto my lap. “Aw, my sweetie pie. Did you have fun today?” I coo, and his entire body wiggles as his tail whaps Lane mercilessly across the face.

Lane laughs as he pushes Copper’s tail down. “Didn’t he tell you to stop babying that dog?”

“Yeah, well…he clearly doesn’t understand love,” I say as I glance up at the building and see Ned standing in the doorway, watching my deplorable display of affection.

“Shit, shit, Ned’s watching us, Copper, get back,” I say as I shove him in the back. “Play it cool.” I wave to Ned who is staring at me with clear disapproval on his face. “I think he’s pretending like he doesn’t see me.”

“Now I’m going to have to hear all about it when I see him again,” Lane says.

“Oh well,” I say as I put the car in drive and gladly pull out of the parking lot. Even when it’s long behind me, I can still feel Ned’s stare and judgment.

I glance down at the GPS as I turn out onto Main Street. “You sure we can’t live with your mother forever?”

“I lived with her for twenty years, it was enough,” he says. “We need to get a house.”

“We do?” I ask skeptically. “Last I checked, I definitely don’t have enough money to buy a house. Or do you mean you’ll buy it, and I’ll just live in it and mooch off you?”

He nods. “Yeah, that one.”

I grin as I turn where the GPS tells me to. “Yeah…I thought so.”

“You can work it off,” he says.

“Oh, you mean like sexy time,” I say with a grin.

“No, like by cleaning and taking care of the lawn and stuff.”

“What else would I have meant by sexy time?” I ask. “You should see the way I tug on that push mower.”

He looks slightly concerned when I glance at him. “Hmm…is that supposed to be sexy? Sometimes I really can’t tell with you.”

“Good, I like you on your toes,” I say.

“Your destination is on the right…”

“Here we are,” I say as I pull into the driveway of a gorgeous one-story home. “Ooh…I like it.”

“Why? Is it just like a little hole in the ground with a tiny round door?” he asks.

I slam the car in park as I look over at him. “Ha ha. It’s not a hobbit house,” I say.

He grins. “Well, I just thought that’s where you’d be most comfortable.”

“Again, I am not the size of a hobbit.”

I notice the realtor get out of her car and wave to us, so I smile and wave back.

“Come on,” I say as I get out.

I walk around to Lane’s side of the car as he gets out. Opening the back door of the car, I call Copper out before reaching in for his leather harness which I press into Lane’s hands. We’ve only started working with the harness, so Lane’s still a little uncertain of it. He feels it over to make sure he has it facing the right way before holding it out and, without prompt, Copper pops his head through the harness. Since Lane is still trying to juggle the harness, the dog, and the leash, he fumbles for the clicker Ned gave us. When clicked, the noise signals positive reinforcement so the dog knows that he did the correct thing, and then he gets a treat.

I could help, but Copper patiently waits until Lane finds the clicker, hits it, and then gives him a treat.

“This is a mess,” Lane says as he just drops Copper’s leash. “I can never find this stupid clicker. The dog probably thinks it’s getting the click and treat for just standing there.”

Reaching down, I unhook the leash and toss it into the backseat. “What if I find a way to strap it to your belt or something? That way it’s always in the same spot, because I’ve literally seen you stick it in your pants, your coat, the treat bag, and the pouch on the harness.”

“Good idea,” he says as he reaches down to Copper and feels him over before running the strap of the harness between his legs and hooking it. “Is it on right?”

It looks good to me, so I shrug. “Yup,  let’s go,” I say as I walk up to the realtor. Today is our third time meeting and the second time she has shown us houses.

“Good afternoon,” the realtor says with a smile. She’s an older lady with gray hair that looks like a ball of cotton on her head. “I really think you guys will like this one. It has three bedrooms and two bathrooms. I think you guys were leaning toward more of an open plan and that is what this is.”

She heads for the front door, and Lane tells Copper to “follow.”’ He doesn’t miss a beat as he starts following the realtor. Whether it’s because he really understands the command or because I’m walking with them and he just wants to follow me, I don’t know. But we rave how smart he is and give him a treat which he swallows without chewing.

The realtor unlocks the door and pushes it open before walking inside. I shut it after us and look around the living room.

“The living room, dining room, and kitchen are all one big room which I think you’ll like, Lane. It gives you plenty of nice open space, and you don’t have to worry about walls or steps.”

I’ve been inside for a total of twenty seconds, and I’m already in love. “Do you think Lane and I could just walk through it?” I say. “Then you can tell us all of the specifications?”

“Of course!” she says. “I’ll step outside and check out the garage. You let me know when you’re ready.”

As soon as she leaves, I reach out for Lane’s free hand. When he feels the nudge of my hand, he holds his out and I slide my fingers between his, gripping them tightly.

“You like it, don’t you?” Lane asks as he squeezes back.

“I love it,” I admit. “As you walk in, it opens right up into the living room. They have their couch pushed back against the wall here with one of those electric fireplaces in the corner. Stone surrounds it, and there’s a wooden mantel above it. To the right of it, they have their TV which I think is really the only good spot for it. Then as you walk in further, it opens up into the dining room. There’s a table here, but to its right is this little alcove with a big bay window and a bench big enough to lie on.”

“Oh yeah, that’d be a nice spot for reading.”

“Oh…yeah…that’s what I was planning on doing there,” I say and Lane snorts.

“Oh? Have a better idea?” he asks as he waggles his eyebrows.

“Yeah, like stuff my face with your mom’s cookies.”

“Yeah…that’s definitely not where I thought you were going with it. Just really put a damper on my idea when you started with ‘stuff my face with your mom.’”

I laugh. “Gross. So…back with the tour now that I feel nauseous…here’s the kitchen. The counters are all along this wall, but there’s a bar here with stools.”

I turn to the hallway and head down it. “First room on the left is the bathroom. Pretty simple really, sink and toilet on the left and the bathtub on the right.” We leave the bathroom, and I take him into the first room which they’re using as a kid’s bedroom. “Bedroom, looks like we could use it as an office or something. The walls are a pretty nice black too.”

“Oh? Kind of like your heart?”

“That must be why I feel at home in here.” I head into the master bedroom and look around the roomy space. “It’s huge. You could fit like…five of my bedrooms as a kid in here!”

“That’s because you lived in a little hobbit hole.”

“Funny.”

He grins. “Then the second bathroom is off this room?”

“Yeah, it’s right over here,” I say as I lead him into the bathroom. “There’s a whirlpool tub.”

“Ooh.”

“And it’s big enough for like three men,” I say.

“Three?” he asks skeptically. “Why would we need three?”

“What? Who said that?”

He laughs. “I’m not worried.”

“So, what do you think?” I ask eagerly.

“If you like it, then I know I will,” he says.

I don’t know why those words make me so happy, but I can’t help but grin. “You’re so sweet.”

“No, I just want your first experience outside a hobbit hole to be a good one.”

“Oh…Oh ho…well, I’m leaving. I’m going to go tell your mom you got lost, and we’ll probably never find you again and that she might as well adopt me to take your place,” I say, and he grins as he reaches out to me.

He wraps me in his muscular arms and pulls me up against him. “You’d miss me,” he says.

“Just your muscles…them I would miss,” I say as I run my finger down one. “Sure wouldn’t be your horrid personality.”

He kisses my forehead as he squeezes me tighter. “So? You like this one the best?”

“Yes.”

“Then let’s talk to her and put an offer in on it, alright?”

“Sounds good. I offer five dollars, you offer the rest?” I suggest as I look up at him.

He looks surprised. “Five? That’s a whole lot more than I thought you’d offer.”

“Oh, it was the five dollars I took from your wallet, so that’s why.”

“Of course it was.”

“I’ve been slowly replacing the money in your wallet with Monopoly money and pretty much everyone just feels bad for you, so they let you get away with it.”

“The thing is…I’m not sure that’s even a joke. You’ve been folding my money up like origami, and it’s confusing as hell.”

“It’s not origami! It’s like…blind people tricks,” I say.

“One day you’re like, the one dollar bill is the long one then the next, the ten is the long one,” he says.

“Your long one is a ten,” I say with a grin.

“I walked right into that,” he realizes before laughing. “Go get the realtor.”

“Going, going,” I say as I pull away from him. “If I don’t come back, see if this family will adopt you…I’ll take really good care of your mother!”

Leaving Lane behind, I step outside and see the realtor messing with something in the backseat of her car. I take the concrete path out to the sidewalk, and as I step onto it, someone slams into me. I must not have seen him because I’d been focused on the realtor, but the force sends me stumbling back.

“Be careful,” he says, just above a whisper as he steps past.

“Sorry about that,” I say as I look back at the guy. His back is to me, and his hood is up as he waves his hand through the air before continuing on.

For a moment I just watch him, but I don’t know why. I’m so paranoid after the shit with Red. Like someone’s going to grab me and drag me back into an alleyway to threaten me again. I need to get the stuff that happened with Red out of my mind and move on with my life. Hopefully, this house is the fresh start I need so I can stop being suspicious of everything.

“How did you like the house?” the realtor shouts as she realizes I’m outside.

I look away from the man and smile at her. “Definitely our favorite so far.”



Author Bio:
Alice Winters started writing stories as soon as she was old enough to turn her ideas into written words. She loves writing a variety of things from romance and comedy to action. She also enjoys reading, horseback riding, and spending time with her pets.


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A Light in the Darkness #2

Series

Saturday's Series Spotlight: Colors of Love by VL Locey Part 1


🌈🏒👬🌈🏒🌈👬🌈🏒🌈👬🏒🌈

The Colors of Love books are standalone MM hockey romance novels that reflect one color of the rainbow in each title. In every Color of Love book we’ll see some of the most beloved tropes flare to passionate life as our couples search for that special someone. As with all my books, each Colors of Love novel will address important social issues, personal growth, team dynamics, and the joy of finding that one true love.

🌈🏒👬🌈🏒🌈👬🌈🏒🌈👬🏒🌈

Lost in Indigo #1
Summary:
Mathieu Beresford was so close to seeing his dream come true.

The thirty-eight-year-old captain of the Buffalo Surge had led his team to the final round of the playoffs with his aggressive defensive play and leadership. During the first game of the championship series, he was taken down, and his leg snapped upon impact with the boards. From his hospital bed, Mathieu watched his team go on to win it all.

Adrift in anger, resentment, and the new direction of his life, he returns to his mansion along the St. Lawrence River. Alone and sulking, Mathieu is not prepared for Indigo Neu to enter his life. The genderflux twenty-year-old botany major signs on to play nursemaid, confidant, and groundskeeper over the summer and slowly leads Mathieu out of his confusion––one tender smile and touch at a time.

The deeper Mathieu falls, the more he wonders if being lost might not be so bad after all.

Touch of a Yellow Sun #2
Summary:
It's been a rough couple of years for Marek Hafer, roaming hockey protagonist and pugilistic expert. Ending up in Berger Lake, Pennsylvania, on a financially unstable minor league team might just be the ending his wretched career deserves. On the other side of thirty, Marek knows his time on skates is dwindling. His goal now is to spend a few quiet years playing for the Berger Lake Badgers, knock a few helmets together as needed, and then call it quits before his salty personality gets him booted out of hockey permanently.

After a bloody encounter his first night on the ice, the Badgers coach suggests that Marek find a way to lower his violent tendencies before he’s sent packing yet again. That decree leads Marek to knock on the door of his next-door neighbor, Shey Pierson, the owner of Sun Touch Yoga Studio. Shey ticks every box Marek has with his soft blue eyes, flowing golden hair, and long limber legs. The only problem is that Shey is yin to Marek’s yang.

Can a man famed for throwing punches find serenity in the arms of a man known for his tranquil ways?

The Good Green Earth #3
Summary:
After the Syracuse Stallions clinch the championship, Nathan Zinkan, the renowned wild man of the AHL is arrested for a DUI. Again. When a no-nonsense judge adds a heavy dose of community service to an already stiff sentence, Nathan has to forget a summer of partying and slide on a pair of gardening gloves. His entire future now rides on how well he can behave while helping elderly urban gardeners tend to their tomatoes.

Watching local garden center owner Bran Cavanaugh working without his shirt is a benefit he wasn’t expecting. Pity Bran is also the one in charge of the community garden as well as keeping tabs on Nathan’s hours served. The two men are instantly at odds due to Nathan’s rebellious nature and Bran’s icy demeanor. Yet there’s no denying the attraction that begins to build between the hot-headed athlete and the cool as a cucumber master gardener.

Will their attraction grow into something deeper, or will it wither and die on the vine?

Slow Dances Under an Orange Moon #4
Summary:
Can the love they once shared be saved or has the pain of the past eclipsed it?

It’s been twenty years since Kye McLeod left the quaint little mountain town of Spruce Lake, Maine to play professional hockey. He’s had his share of ups and downs, but his choice to hit the big city and not look back has paid off handsomely. The future hall-of-famer is now ready to retire and come out of that dark closet he’s been sequestered in since his first secretive kiss with Davy Aguirre in high school. Now that he’s heading home to keep an eye on his feisty grandfather, there might be the chance to rekindle the flame between him and Davy.

Kye quickly learns that the boy he left behind isn’t the man he’s now knocking heads with. He always imagined grown-up Davy—who now insists on being called David—would be beyond the pain that Kye’s youthful blunder caused him, but now he’s not so sure. When the wildlife conservation officer squares off with the ex-hockey captain their connection is incendiary, and there are more than just fireworks. However, winning back the man he walked away from may not be as easy as he thought…

Author Bio:
USA Today Bestselling Author V.L. Locey – Penning LGBT hockey romance that skates into sinful pleasures.

V.L. Locey loves worn jeans, yoga, belly laughs, walking, reading and writing lusty tales, Greek mythology, Torchwood and Dr. Who, the New York Rangers, comic books, and coffee. (Not necessarily in that order.) She shares her life with her husband, her daughter, one dog, two cats, a pair of geese, far too many chickens, and two steers.

When not writing spicy romances, she enjoys spending her day with her menagerie in the rolling hills of Pennsylvania with a cup of fresh java in one hand and a steamy romance novel in the other.


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Lost in Indigo #1
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Touch of a Yellow Sun #2
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The Good Green Earth #3
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Slow Dances Under an Orange Moon #4
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Release Blitz: Nothing Special VII - Ex Meridian by AE Via

Title: Ex Meridian
Author: AE Via
Series: Nothing Special #7
Genre: M/M Romance, Suspense
Release Date: February 24, 2020
Editor: Sue Laybourn
Cover Design: Jay Aheer

Summary:
Police Lieutenants, God and Day are under intense pressure from the chief to take back control of Atlanta’s streets. The last thing their task force needs is a pair of trained killers in town with a personal score to settle. 

Take a man and strip him of his ability to feel compassion, empathy, remorse, or any of the emotions that make him human, but leave the ones that ignite rage and aggression and you have the perfect killing machine—now imagine two of them.

Code names Ex and Meridian are synonymous for ‘guaranteed death’ to international terrorists. Two broken men from the same crooked streets, recruited into an unsanctioned government program that few know about. Trained to operate most efficiently—lethally—together.

When Ex returns from an op in Bolivia to learn his little brother has been accidentally killed in a feud between drug gangs, he’s stateside before he can consider the rules he’ll be breaking, and of course Meridian is right beside him. There’s mayhem on the streets of Atlanta and the police are losing control. If Godfrey and his elite team of detectives can’t get the job done then they’d be happy to lighten their caseloads for them. And Ex nor Meridian care about doing it quietly.

“I know who you are.” The man grunted when Ex turned to leave. “You’re the fucking devil.”
Meridian walked past, glaring one final time. “Say that loud enough… maybe God will save you.”

But after their first run-in with the big lieutenant and his protective husband, Day, Ex and Meridian start to reevaluate their own relationship. Wondering if they could be even deadlier if they let loose the feelings for each other that they’ve been forced to suppress for years.

Meridian’s dark eyes stayed locked on his, “A man who can fight beside the one he loves doesn’t make him weaker, Ex—it makes him more dangerous.”

No multiple pairings. No cliffhangers. Ends with a HEA. 
Note: This is a partners-to-lovers, out-for-you, action romance.


“Melinda. Why don’t you sit down and eat a little something? I’m sure you’ll feel much better than running yourself ragged,” one of them said, trying but failing to pull her friend away from the stove.

Why do other people think they know what’s best for someone else? Meridian didn’t shake his head as he stood inconspicuously in front of an eight-by-ten table beside the patio doors. He perused the ten to twelve different kinds of cakes and pies on offer. He picked up a small plate and put a piece of lemon cake on it and something that resembled a crumbly coffee cake.

“My kitchen does relax me,” Ex’s mother huffed. “Can you ladies just give me a second. Please.”

They stared at her for a long moment as she gazed down at the bubbling dish she was stirring, then warily eyed one another. With resigned sighs, both women retreated into the living room, whispering to each other as if Ex’s mom had gone deaf suddenly. 

Meridian moved up close behind her. He reached around and set his plate on the counter in front of her. She tensed for a moment then spun around to meet his glare. He had no reaction to her fright or her gasp. Ex’s mother swallowed thickly, gripping the silver cross hanging around her neck.

“I’m sorry for the loss of your son,” Meridian spoke, his voice as low a timbre as he could get it, however Melinda still flinched.

“You knew Evan?” she asked, a slight frown creasing her smooth forehead. The only wrinkles on her face were the ones in the corners of her eyes and mouth.

“No. I’ve only heard stories of him.”

She tried to take a step back but she was as close as she could get to the stove without getting burned. “From who?”

“From his brother.”

Her lips immediately began to tremble and the other hand—not gripping the cross—flew to her mouth. She appeared to fight to take in air as she panted quick, short breaths. Watery, pale gray eyes stared at him, and he saw the second the realization settled in. Meridian knew that Evan had told his mother that her other son wasn’t dead but actually working deep undercover for the government, but she’d still likely never see him again. Meridian knew of the few clues and trinkets that Ex had sent his family over the years to let them know he hadn’t forgotten about them. He never told anyone that his partner was breaking one of their most important rules. But something about Ex and his family, something about what they’d gone through, was the reason he couldn’t sever all ties with his mom and baby brother. He simply wouldn’t, and that was something that intrigued him most about his partner—a piece of defiance that gave his extremely calculated existence some excitement.

“You knew Xavier?” she said, around a quiet sob.

Meridian shook his head. “No. I know Xavier.”

Her cries got a bit louder and Meridian started to get agitated. One, because he thought the dueling duo would flock back inside and stall him, but he also didn’t like to be around so much emotion.

“Where is he?” she asked in a harsh whisper as she reached out to clutch his arm but instinct had him sidestepping her touch before she could make contact. “My god.”

“Come with me. I’ll take you to him.”

She didn’t budge and neither did he. Melinda looked as if she felt something might not be right, and narrowed her eyes. Meridian appreciated that she wasn’t an idiot, an easy target.

“Bring the lemon cake. It’s still his favorite.”

Melinda’s eyes widened—as though Meridian had passed her test—and she choked back more sobs as she scurried through a side door that Meridian realized was the pantry and grabbed her purse off a hook. She didn’t bother with cake, moving as if she was on a mission. He stood at the patio door waiting for her after she slung a black and gray shawl over her shoulders. Meridian slid the door to the side and eased them outside into the dreary, cold evening with no one else the wiser.

“Your keys,” Meridian mumbled.



Author Bio:
A.E. Via has been a best-selling author in the beautiful gay romance genre for six years now, but she’s no stranger to MM. She’s been an avid reader of gay lit for over fifteen years before she picked up her laptop to place her own kiss on this genre. She’s also the founder and owner of Via Star Wings Books, having published a couple great new up and coming MM authors.

A.E. has a Bachelor of Arts in Criminal Justice from Virginia Wesleyan College that she used to start her own paralegal firm after she graduated in 2008. She spent five years preparing and filing bankruptcy petitions for struggling blue collar workers who couldn’t afford to file with a lawyer. It was a rewarding and satisfying career… but another path called to her.

Writing.

A.E.’s novels embodies everything from hopelessly romantic to adventure, to scandalous. Her stories often include intriguing edges and twists that take readers to new, thought-provoking depths.

She’s recently celebrated her 20th book anniversary, and is kind of known now for her hardcore, play rough and love hard, bad boy, alphas. However, she does like to push herself to step out of her comfort zone, exploring different tropes, but she won’t push herself into a whole other genre. She’s head over heels for gay romance and she has tons of more hot stories to tell.

Be sure to visit Adrienne on her social media pages and subscribe to her newsletter to never miss another release date! Go to A.E. Via’s official website for more detailed information on how to contact her, follow her, or a sneak peek at upcoming work, free reads, VSWB submissions, and where she’ll appear next.


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Ex Meridian #7

Series

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Friday, February 28, 2020

📘🎥Friday's Film Adaptation🎥📘: The Glass Key by Dashiell Hammett


Summary:
Paul Madvig was a cheerfully corrupt ward-heeler who aspired to something better: the daughter of Senator Ralph Bancroft Henry, the heiress to a dynasty of political purebreds. Did he want her badly enough to commit murder? And if Madvig was innocent, which of his dozens of enemies was doing an awfully good job of framing him? Dashiell Hammett's tour de force of detective fiction combines an airtight plot, authentically venal characters, and writing of telegraphic crispness.

A one-time detective and a master of deft understatement, Dashiell Hammett virtually invented the hard-boiled crime novel. This classic Hammet work of detective fiction combines an airtight plot, authentically venal characters, and writing of telegraphic crispness.


Chapter One
THE BODY IN CHINA STREET I
Green dice rolled across the green table, struck the rim together, and bounced back. One stopped short holding six white spots in two equal rows uppermost. The other tumbled out to the center of the table and came to rest with a single spot on top.

Ned Beaumont grunted softly-"Uhn!"-and the winners cleared the table of money.

Harry Sloss picked up the dice and rattled them in a pale broad hairy hand. "Shoot two bits." He dropped a twenty-dollar bill and a five-dollar bill on the table.

Ned Beaumont stepped back saying: "Get on him, gamblers, I've got to refuel!" He crossed the billiard-room to the door. There he met Walter Ivans coming in. He said, "'Lo, Walt," and would have gone on, but Ivans caught his elbow as he passed and turned to face him.

"D-d-did you t-talk to P-p-paul?" When Ivans said "P-p-paul" a fine spray few out between his lips.

"I'm going up to see him now." Ivans's china-blue eyes brightened in his round fair face until Ned Beaumont, narrow of eye, added: "Don't expect much. If you could wait awhile."

Ivans's chin twitched. "B-b-but she's going to have the b-b-baby next month."

A startled look came into Ned Beaumont's dark eyes. He took his arm out of the shorter man's hand and stepped back. Then a cornerof his mouth twitched under his dark mustache and he said: "it's a bad time, Walt, and-well-you'll save yourself disappointment by not looking for much before November." His eyes were narrow again and watchful.

"B-b-but if you t-tell him-"

"I'll put it to him as hot as I can and you ought to know he'll go the limit, but he's in a tough spot right now." He moved his shoulders and his face became gloomy except for the watchful brightness of his eyes.

Ivans wet his lips and blinked his eyes many times. He drew in a long breath and patted Ned Beaumont's chest with both hands. "G-g-go up now," he said in an urgent pleading voice. "I-I'll wait here f-for you."

II Ned Beaumont went upstairs lighting a thing green-dappled cigar. At the second-floor landing, where the Governor's portrait hung, he turned towards the front of the building and knocked on the broad oaken door that shut off the corridor at that end.

When he heard Paul Madvig's "All right" he opened the door and went in.

Paul Madvig was alone in the room, standing at the window, with his hands in his trousers-pockets, his back to the door, looking through the screen down into dark China Street.

He turned around slowly and said: "Oh, here you are." He was a man of forty-five, tall as Ned Beaumont, but forty pounds heavier without softness. His hair was light, parted in the middle, and brushed flat to his head. His face was handsome in a ruddy stout-featured way. His clothes were saved from flashiness by their quality and by his manner of wearing them.

Ned Beaumont shut the door and said: "Lend me some money."

From his inner coat-pocket Madvig took a large brown wallet. "What do you want?"

"Couple of hundred." Madvig gave him a hundred-dollar bill and five twenties, asking: "Craps?"

"Thanks." Ned Beaumont pocketed the money. "Yes."

"It's a long time since you've done any winning, isn't it?" Madvig asked as he returned his hands to his trousers-pockets.

"Not so long-a month or six weeks."

Madvig smiled. "That's a long time to be losing."

"Not for me." There was a faint note of irritation in Ned Beaumont's voice.

Madvig rattled coins in his pocket. "Much of a game tonight?" He sat on a corner of the table and looked down at his glistening brown shoes.

Ned Beaumont looked curiously at the blond man, then shook his had and said: "Peewee." He walked to the window. Above the buildings on the opposite side of the street the sky was black and heavy. He went behind Madvig to the telephone and called a number. "Hello, Bernie. This is Ned. What's the price on Peggy O'Toole? Is that all? . . . Well, give me five hundred of each . . . Sure. . . . I'm betting it's going to rain and if it does she'll beat Incinerator. . . . All right, give me a better price then. . . . Right." He put the receiver on its prong and came around in front of Madvig again.

Madvig asked: "Why don't you try laying off awhile when you hit one of these sour streaks?"

Ned Beaumont scowled. "That's no good, only spreads it out. I ought to've put that fifteen hundred on the nose instead of spreading it across the board. Might as well take your punishment and get it over with."

Madvig chuckled and raised his head to say: "If you can stand the gaff."

Ned Beaumont drew down the ends of his mouth, the ends of his mustache following them down. "I can stand anything I've got to stand," he said as he moved towards the door.

He had his hand on the door-knob when Madvig said, earnestly: "I guess you can, at that, Ned."

Ned Beaumont turned around and asked, "Can what?" fretfully.

Madvig transferred his gaze to the window. "Can stand anything," he said.

Ned Beaumont studied Madvig's averted face. The blond man stirred uncomfortably and moved coins in his pockets again. Ned Beaumont made his eyes blank and asked in an utterly puzzled tone: "Who?"

Madvig's face flushed. He rose from the table and took a step towards Ned Beaumont. "You go to hell," he said.

Ned Beaumont laughed.

Madvig grinned sheepishly and wiped his face with a green-bordered handkerchief. "Why haven't you been out to the house?" he asked. "Mom was saying last night she hadn't seen you for a month."

"Maybe I'll drop in some night this week."

"You ought to. You know how Mom likes you. Come for supper." Madvig put his handkerchief away.

Ned Beaumont moved towards the door again, slowly, watching the blond man from the ends of his eyes. With his hand on the knob he asked: "Was that what you wanted to see me about?"

Madvig frowned. "Yes, that is-" He cleared his throat. "Uh-oh-there's something else." Suddenly his diffidence was gone, leaving him apparently tranquil and self-possessed. "You know more about this stuff than I do. Miss Henry's birthday's Thursday. What do you think I ought to give her?"

Ned Beaumont took his hand from the door-knob. His eyes, by the time he was facing Madvig squarely again, had lost their shocked look. He blew cigar-smoke out and asked: "They're having some kind of birthday doings, aren't they?"

"Yes."

"You invited?"

Madvig shook his head. "But I'm going there to dinner tomorrow night."

Ned Beaumont looked down at his cigar, then up at Madvig's face again, and asked: "Are you going to back the Senator, Paul?"

"I think we will."

Ned Beaumont's smile was mild as his voice when he put his next question: "Why?"

Madvig smiled. "Because with us behind him he'll snow Roan under and with his help we can put over the whole ticket just like nobody was running against us."

Ned Beaumont put his cigar in his mouth. He asked, still mildly: "Without you"-he stressed the pronoun-"behind him could the Senator make the grade this time?"

Madvig was calmly positive.

"Not a chance."

Ned Beaumont, after a little pause, asked: "Does he know that?"

"He ought to know it better than anybody else. And if he didn't know it- What the hell's the matter with you?"

Ned Beaumont's laugh was a sneer. "If he didn't know it," he suggested, "you wouldn't be going there to dinner tomorrow night?" Madvig, frowning, asked again: "What the hell's the matter with you?" Ned Beaumont took the cigar from his mouth. His teeth had bitten the end of it into shredded ruin. He said: "There's nothing the matter with me." He put thoughtfulness on his face. "You don't think the rest of the ticket needs his support?"

"Support's something no ticket can get too much of," Madvig replied carelessly, "but without his help we could manage to hold up our end all right."

"Have you promised him anything yet?"

Madvig pursed his lips. "It's pretty well settled."

Ned Beaumont lowered his head until he was looking up under his brows at the blond man. His face had become pale. "Throw him down, Paul," he said in a low husky voice. "Sink him."

Madvig put his fists on his hips and exclaimed softly and incredulously: "Well, I'll be damned!" Ned Beaumont walked past Madvig and with unsteady thin fingers mashed the burning end of his cigar in the hammered copper basin on the table.

Madvig stared at the younger man's back until he straightened and turned. Then the blond man grinned at him with affection and exasperation. "What gets into you, Ned?" he complained. "You go along fine for just so long and then for no reason at all you throw an ing-bing. I'll be a dirty so-and-so if I can make you out!"

Ned Beaumont made a grimace of distaste. He said, "All right, forget it," and immediately returned to the attack with a skeptical question: "Co you think he'll play ball with you after he's re-elected?"

Madvig was not worried. "I can handle him."

"Maybe, but don't forget he's never been licked at anything in his life."

Madvig nodded in complete agreement. "Sure, and that's one of the best reasons I know for throwing in with him."

"No, it isn't, Paul," Ned Beaumont said earnestly. "it's the very worst. Think that over even if it hurts your head. How far has this dizzy blond daughter of his got her hooks into you?"

Madvig said: "I'm going to marry Miss Henry."

Ned Beaumont made a whistling mouth, though he did not whistle. He made his eyes smaller and asked: "Is that part of the bargain?"

Madvig grinned boyishly. "Nobody knows it yet," he replied, "except you and me."

Spots of color appeared in Ned Beaumont's lean cheeks. He smiled his nicest smile and said: "You can trust me not to go around bragging about it and here's a piece of advice. If that's what you want, make them put it in writing and swear to it before a notary and post a cash bond, or, better still, insist on the wedding before election-day. Then you'll at least be sure of your pound of flesh, or she'll weight around a hundred and ten, won't she?"

Madvig shifted his feet. He avoided Ned Beaumont's gaze while saying: "I don't know why you keep talking about the Senator like he was a yegg. He's a gentleman and--"

"Absolutely. Read about it in the Post--one of the few aristocrats left in American politics. And his daughter's an aristocrat. That's why I'm warning you to sew your shirt on when you go to see them, or you'll come away without it, because to them you're a lower form of animal life and none of the rules apply."

Madvig sighed and began: "Aw, Ned, don't be so damned--"

But Ned Beaumont had remembered something. His eyes were shiny with malice. He said: "And we oughtn't to forget that young Taylor Henry's an aristocrat too, which is probably why you made Opal stop playing around with him. How's that going to work out when you marry his sister and he's your daughter's uncle-in-law or something? Will that entitle him to begin playing around with her again?"

Madvig yawned. "You didn't understand me right, Ned," he said. "I didn't ask for all this. I just asked you what kind of present I ought to give Miss Henry."

Ned Beaumont's face lost its animation, became a slightly sullen mask. "How far have you got with her?" he asked in a voice that expressed nothing of what he might have been thinking.

"Nowhere. I've been there maybe half a dozen times to talk to the Senator. Sometimes I see her and sometimes I don't, but only to say 'How do you do' or something with other people around. You know, I haven't had a chance to say anything to her yet."

Amusement glinted for a moment in Ned Beaumont's eyes and vanished. He brushed back one side of his mustache with a thumb-nail and asked: "Tomorrow's your first dinner there?"

"Yes, though I don't expect it to be the last."

"And you didn't get a bid to the birthday party?"

"No." Madvig hesitated. "Not yet."

"Then the answer's one you won't like."

Madvig's face was impassive. "Such as?" he asked.

"Don't give her anything."

"Oh, hell, Ned!"

Ned Beaumont shrugged. "Do whatever you like. You asked me."

"But why?"

"You're not supposed to give people things unless you're sure they'd like to get them from you."

"But everybody likes to--" "Maybe, but it goes deeper than that. When you give somebody something, you're saying out loud that you know they'd like to have you give--"

"I got you," Madvig said. He rubbed his chin with fingers of his right hand. He frowned and said: "I guess you're right." His face cleared. He said: "But I'll be damned if I'll pass up the chance."

Ned Beaumont said quickly: "Well, flowers then, or something like that, might be all right."

"Flowers? Jesus! I wanted--"

"Sure, you wanted to give her a roadster or a couple of yards of pearls. You'll get your chance at that later. Start little and grow."

Madvig made a wry face. "I guess you're right, Ned. You know more about this kind of stuff than I do. Flowers it is."

"And not too many of them." Then, in the same breath: "Walt Ivan's telling the world you ought to spring his brother."

Madvig pulled the bottom of his vest down. "The world can tell him Tim's going to stay indoors till after election."

"You're going to let him stand trial?"

"I am," Madvig replied, and added with more heat: "You know damned well I can't help it, Ned.


A hired gun and his gangster boss fall out over a woman.

Release Date: October 14, 1942
Release Time: 85 minutes

Cast:
Brian Donlevy as Paul Madvig
Veronica Lake as Janet Henry
Alan Ladd as Ed Beaumont
Bonita Granville as Opal "Snip" Madvig
Richard Denning as Taylor Henry
Joseph Calleia as Nick Varna
William Bendix as Jeff
Frances Gifford as Nurse
Donald MacBride as District Attorney Farr
Margaret Hayes as Eloise Matthews
Moroni Olsen as Ralph Henry
Eddie Marr as Rusty
Arthur Loft as Clyde Matthews
George Meader as Claude Tuttle
Dane Clark as Sloss






1935  /  1942



Author Bio:
Also wrote as Peter Collinson, Daghull Hammett, Samuel Dashiell, Mary Jane Hammett

Samuel Dashiell Hammett was an American author of hardboiled detective novels and short stories. Among the enduring characters he created are Sam Spade (The Maltese Falcon), Nick and Nora Charles (The Thin Man), and the Continental Op (Red Harvest and The Dain Curse). In addition to the significant influence his novels and stories had on film, Hammett "is now widely regarded as one of the finest mystery writers of all time" and was called, in his obituary in the New York Times, "the dean of the... 'hard-boiled' school of detective fiction."


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