Monday, June 20, 2016

Monday's Montage Mantlepiece: Unconventional in Atlanta


Summary:
Seeing Him by Carol Lynne 
Physical and emotional scars drove Jonah to a life in the shadows, but Trevor is determined to draw him out of the dark and into his arms.

After spending months in a military rehabilitation hospital, Jonah returns from active duty only to find himself homeless. Jonah retreats to life in the shadows to hide his facial scars. He takes up residence in the parking garage of The Melia Hotel where he watches a striking black man come and go from his work inside the hotel. What Jonah doesn’t know is that General Manager Trevor Sharp is also watching him.

Trevor spends his days and most of his evenings at the Melia, working hard to prove he is the best man for the job. Unfortunately, between his hours and past heartbreaks, he doesn't have much time for love. When a handsome man comes out of nowhere to save him from an abusive ex, Trevor makes it his mission to find out who the man is.

Trevor eventually builds a friendship with Jonah and works to draw him out of the shadows and into his arms, but will he stay there?

Blown Away by Amber Kell 
Sometimes love finds you before you think you're ready. 

Chris Garland's love for glasswork encompasses his life. Between school and working as a concierge at The Melia Hotel, he doesn’t have time for anything else. However, when he sees the handsome stranger sitting in the hotel lobby, he can’t resist introducing himself.

Leo Abbott lost the love of his life two years ago and has yet to recover. Flying to Atlanta for his cousin’s wedding, he couldn’t help but think of his dead lover. When the hotel’s concierge checks on him in the lobby and introduces himself, Leo feels the first stirrings of attraction. Passions he thought long buried flare back to life.

Will two men from separate walks of life be able to find a common ground where they can be together?

His Last Client by T.A. Chase 
What happens when an occasional prostitute meets a client he can’t help but fall in love with? 

Gib Schultz works as a bartender at The Melia Hotel in downtown Atlanta. When Gib needs some extra cash, he sells his body occasionally. It’s not the best job in the world, but it keeps a roof over his head. When one of his regular clients asks him for a favour, Gib isn’t sure about the guy he’s supposed to meet. Yet at double his normal price, he’s willing to risk it. Within minutes, he discovers he’s risking more than just his body, he’s risking his heart.

Edwin Masters is back in the States after spending several months reporting in war-torn countries around the world. He's looking for a night or two of fun, and when he meets Gib, he's sure it'll be a great time. Then after spending time with Gib, he realises there's more to the guy than he thought, and his heart tells him it might be time to take a risk on loving someone.

They're both risking their hearts, and together, they have to decide if the reward is worth the risk.

Where Tomorrow Shines by Jambrea Jo Jones 
Be All You Can Be? 

Kasey Adams will show Quinn Nelson just what kind of man he is. After a couple of dates it’s been radio silence and Kasey wants to know why. He’s ready to settle down with just one guy and start his life.

Quinn is tired. He just wants to do his job and go home at the end of the day with an ice cold beer and something on the TV. He doesn’t have time for a happy shiny kid who wants to change the world.

Can Kasey convince Quinn they are meant to be?

Slippery When Wet by Stephani Hecht
When opposites attract, the passion ignites like nobody ever imagined.

Ever since Reno started working as the head coordinator for the kids' centre at the hotel, he'd been harbouring a not-so-secret crush on a lifeguard named Bruce. When he finally has a chance to talk to Bruce and Bruce doesn't even know Reno's name, Reno is crushed. Heartbroken, Reno is forced to admit that beauty is only skin deep and that Bruce is a jerk.

Bruce finds himself intrigued by the shy, yet cute Reno. He decides that he is going to pursue the man. But Bruce has the reputation as a man-eater. Will his reputation ruin any chance he has with Reno? Or will he be able to convince Reno that he really does care for him?

Out of Service by Devon Rhodes
Being the problem-solver of the hotel is Esteban's role, but when he breaks his rules to help a guest, things get complicated. Especially for his heart…

Esteban Parks is used to being the go-to-guy at the Melia. As the front desk manager, he's in a position to see everything that goes on—front and back of the house. Nothing fazes him, until he's confronted with an appealing guest and instinctively goes into rescue mode.

Jayden Yates has travelled to Atlanta with one goal in mind—to be himself for just a little while. His family and community already make his life miserable and he hasn't even come out yet. So he impulsively spends part of his savings to come to GayRomLit.

When he finds out that a simple mistake might derail his whole adventure before it even begins, he literally falls at the feet of the most handsome man he's ever seen. Esteban offers him more than help—there's an instant spark between them.

But can two men from such different backgrounds and stages of life find any common ground? Or will it be just a holiday romance for the memory books?


Seeing Him by Carol Lynne
With the office lights turned off, Trevor Sharp peered out of the window. From his position, he was able to see the broad-shouldered silhouette of the man he’d watched for over a week. He had no idea who the man was or why he slept in a nook of the Meliá parking garage, but there was something about him that continued to draw Trevor’s attention.

Security would have run the man out had they spotted him on their monitors, so evidently the small crevice was one of the few places their cameras didn’t reach. Interesting. Did his mysterious dark friend know he’d be safe in that particular spot or was it pure luck?

It had been a week ago that Trevor’s ex—Dickhead Danny, as Trevor liked to refer to him—had actually shown up at the hotel and waited in the parking garage for Trevor to leave work. Danny had immediately started the same tired argument about why they needed to get back together. When Trevor told Danny he had no desire to see or speak to him, his ex had snapped. Danny wasn’t articulate enough to fight with words—he’d always preferred to use his size and strength to win an argument. Danny had pushed Trevor hard against his car and had showered him with spittle as he’d screamed at him.

Then, from out of nowhere, a man wearing a faded, desert-style fatigue jacket had broadsided Danny, knocking him to the ground. Several punches had been thrown by both men, but it had been Danny who’d eventually run away with his tail between his legs. It had happened so fast, Trevor hadn’t even got a good look at his mysterious protector, but Danny had called the man a freak before he’d run off. When Trevor had tried to approach the man to thank him, the stranger had quickly turned his face away and nodded before disappearing into the shadows.

Instead of driving home that night, Trevor had turned around and gone back into the Meliá. He’d spent each night since sleeping in one of the unused hotel rooms or on the sofa in his office. Although the security at the hotel was a nice bonus, he’d discovered his invisible man only moved around once dark descended on the city of Atlanta.

Trevor sighed. Earlier that evening, he’d taken a to-go box, containing one of the hotel’s big hamburgers, Tater Tots and a bottle of water out to the garage and had left it near where he knew the man slept. He’d set the food in a spot just outside the shadows, hoping to get his first real look at the man he couldn’t stop thinking about.

Unfortunately, his plan hadn’t worked. The invisible man had stayed in the darkness of the nook that he’d made his home and had used his legs to retrieve the to-go that contained the food.

Why’re you hiding? Trevor should probably be afraid of the obviously homeless man instead of feeling a sense of warmth that the man’s proximity provided. He heard someone whistling and glanced over his shoulder. Keith, one of the security guards, was riding down the escalator that led to the Meliá offices.

"Mr Sharp?"

"Hi, Keith," Trevor greeted.

"Why’re you sitting in the dark?" Keith started to reach for the light switch, but Trevor stopped him.

"Leave ’em off. I’ve got a migraine and it helps to sit in the dark." It wasn’t the truth, but the guard didn’t need to know that. Trevor glanced at the keycard in Keith’s hand. "Where’re you going?"

"I saw someone messing around your car in the garage, so I thought I’d take a look," Keith explained. "Don’t worry, from the monitor it didn’t look like he did any damage or anything, but I thought I’d better make sure. I didn’t know you were down here. Are you spending the night again?"

Blown Away by Amber Kell
Christopher spun the blowpipe, slowly gathering up globs of molten glass from the bottom of the furnace. With practiced ease, he collected the proper amount of glowing material for the vase he visualised in his mind. The beginning of a piece always filled him with the tingle of anticipation, like meeting a sexy guy at a club and trying to calculate how quickly he could strip him down. When working with glass, his finished art never quite matched his initial idea. Sometimes the glass spoke to him and he had to follow where inspiration guided him. Humming happily, Chris watched the growing sphere at the end of his pipe. Now he was ready for the next step.

Despite the protective shield, the heat from the furnace set at around one thousand, one hundred and fifty degrees Celsius blasted across Chris’ face. Sweat poured off his body, soaking into his shirt as he smoothly slid his pipe from the searing heat. Mindful of the sudden weight, he carefully lifted the rod off of the stand and moved it to the next station.

He hoped his friend appreciated all the effort. With college tuition and fees for glass making Chris’ pockets lighter by the second, he didn’t have tons of money for gifts. However he knew Amanda loved his work and he wanted to make something just for her. He could’ve just grabbed one of his already finished pieces, but Amanda had helped him through a bad breakup a few months ago and he thought she deserved a special present.

Carrying his prize over to the metal table where he’d laid out the frit, Chris gently rolled his soft glob over the tiny pieces of coloured glass, embedding them into the material in one smooth motion. After covering all sides he smashed the bottom into the table to collect frit on the bottom. It looked a bit like a caramel apple rolled in sprinkles when he finished. Chris smiled at the analogy. He loved sweets.

Walking over to the glory hole, he settled the blowpipe in the metal support then opened the glory hole with one hand. Scooting back he pushed the quickly cooling glass into the hot oven and spun it around in a slow, steady rhythm, making sure to not leave it in one position for too long. If it overheated, the entire piece could melt off the pipe and end up a blob on the bottom of the unit. The shop owner hated it when that happened and Chris would prefer to avoid a lecture.

He kept a close eye on the glass until it glowed orange and became viscous again. Glancing behind him to make sure no one stood in his path, he slid the still spinning globe out of the glory hole. Walking fast, Chris propped the lower half of the rod on the edge of the steel table, making sure the glass cleared the surface and didn’t touch. Keeping the pipe in motion, Chris gave a hard puff into his end of the pipe. The injection of air caused a bubble to form inside the glass and enlarged the globe. After a series of additional puffs, the solid mass of glass had inflated like a balloon. Chris stopped when it had reached the size he wanted.

His Last Client by T.A. Chase
No matter how many times Gib stared at the balance in his checking account, the numbers didn’t change. He was going to be short for rent this month. Sighing, he rested his chin on his hand and frowned. He couldn’t ask for more hours at the Meliá, the hotel in downtown Atlanta that he tended bar at. They were already giving him as many as they could. No, he was going to have to make up the difference in his usual way. After picking his phone up off the table, he dialled a familiar number.

"Gib, you haven’t called in a while."

"I know. Do you have any work for me?"

His agent chuckled. "Funny you should call. One of your regulars called me. He has a friend coming into town, and wondered if you’d do him a solid. His friend is looking for a little fun for a night or two."

He chewed on his lips as he thought. After a bad encounter with a new client, Gib only went with men he knew. Silly that it took him almost five years of selling himself to figure out some people were assholes, and thought that just because they could pay him for sex, that gave them free rein to do whatever they wanted to him.

"Which client?"

Jake hemmed and hawed for a few moments, then said, "Mr Y."

For privacy reasons, Jake only used the client’s last initial to identify them. Gib didn’t care since he had no real interest in finding out who the men were.

After getting out of hospital, Gib had told Jake he would only work for certain men. He’d given his agent a list, and Jake had been good about sticking with it, even though Gib had been one of his most popular guys. So hearing it was one of his regulars made him consider doing the favour. Since Mr Y knew what had happened to Gib, he wouldn’t try to hook him up with someone who’d hurt him.

"He’ll pay double your usual rate." Jake dangled the carrot.

"Double?" Gib blinked. That was a helluva lot of money. He wouldn’t have to worry about rent for a couple of months after that. As much as he didn’t want to do it, he said, "Yes. I’ll meet him."

"Good. Mr Y said you could give him a call, and he can give you some information on the guy. If you wanted reassurance, I guess." Jake hummed, and he was obviously waiting for Gib to say he didn’t need to be reassured.

He couldn’t say it, but he could pretend to ignore what Jake said. "No problem. You know the drill. Have him meet me at Ashley’s."

Where Tomorrow Shines by Jambrea Jo Jones
Quinn Nelson finished making the bed, making sure the corners were tight. Being a maid wasn’t all bad. At least it wasn’t shooting insurgents and dodging bullets. Sure, there were some real skanky people out there who left the room in a way he wouldn’t even see in his worst nightmare, but he was happy with his job. It was something mindless that paid the bills. When he went home, he didn’t have to worry about explosions or how close to the enemy line he was. He had a beer or two and relaxed before bed only to start it all over again.

It was nice to be back in Atlanta. It had been years, but it was still home. The Meliá Hotel was a nice place and they treated their employees right. All he had to do was be on time and do his job. He could handle that in his sleep.

So what if he was a bit lonely? That was life. He’d spent the last thirty years with no significant other—he could last the rest of his life. Maybe he’d go out to eat at his favourite restaurant, Escorpion, after work. The tequila was great and so was the food. Mexican was his favourite.

Kasey Adams.

Just the name made Quinn hard. Fuck. Nope, no matter how much he wanted a goat taco it wasn’t going to happen. Kasey worked as a waiter at Escorpion. They’d met there one night and had really hit it off, but Kase was just too happy and shiny. Quinn was trying to avoid Kasey, not invite him back to his place for a fuck. Because if he saw Kasey, that invitation would be out of his mouth before he could think twice. Kasey was a sexy bastard and if Quinn laid eyes on him he wouldn’t hesitate to ask him over.

Kasey still thought he could fix the world. He’d once told Quinn that ‘everything is a path that leads us to where we need to go’. If that wasn’t glass half full, Quinn didn’t know what was. He was too old, too tired and the shine had worn off him at nineteen when he’d shot his first person in Afghanistan. He still had nightmares. They would be with him forever. He didn’t need to bring that baggage to a relationship, so he was walking off the path and wasn’t where Kase needed to be. Quinn would stick to one night stands. He was good at those.

After a month or so of dating, Quinn had to stop all communication. Kase deserved a younger guy who would be able to keep up. Someone who wanted to change the world with him, not a man with a busted leg who woke up screaming on a good night.

Quinn wasn’t that guy, no matter how Kase’s long, lean body looked in his bed. How his brown hair would stick up all over the place when he woke up. Or how his green eyes sparkled when he looked at Quinn. He’d done the right thing. He wasn’t meant for relationships and that was that.

Slippery When Wet by Stephani Hecht
He finally had the chance that he’d waited over six months for. Reno was going to have an excuse to talk to the man of his dreams, Bruce McCall. The man who had all the swagger of Jagger, the cool of Bond and the good looks of David Beckham.

It was really a shame that said man worked as a lifeguard at a hotel. But then again, for all David’s wonderfulness, Reno had to remind himself that David was just a normal, everyday guy. Besides, who was Reno to talk? He worked as the head coordinator for children’s activities at the same hotel. At least Bruce got to actually save lives. What did Reno do? He helped kids make macaroni necklaces and finger paint pictures to show off to their uncaring parents. So, as far as he was concerned, that put Bruce steps ahead of him.

Reno held his hand up to his mouth and huffed to make sure his breath didn’t stink, ran a nervous hand over his hair to smooth his cowlicks, brushed his fingers over his lips to guarantee he didn’t have any pieces of leftover dinner stuck to his face then checked his fly was all the way up. He wanted to be certain that he made a good impression. Taking a deep breath to steady his nerves, he pointed himself towards the pool area.

He found Bruce in his usual location on the fourth floor where the pool was located. He was sitting in the lifeguard chair, looking as gorgeous as ever. Reno paused a moment just to stare at him. With sleek, tan skin that covered a set of muscles to die for, dark, short hair and brown eyes that one could get lost in, he was every gay man’s wet dream come true and then some. That was before one threw in the cute set of dimples and the high cheekbones—they were just the bonus on the spank-bank cake of yumminess. And, damn it, Reno didn’t just want a big old slice of it. Hell, who was he kidding? He wanted the whole cake, icing and all.

It wasn’t until he’d been standing there for a good five minutes that Reno realised he was stalling. Not only that, but he was pretty sure he was doing a good impression of a stalker.

Taking in another deep breath, he said to himself, "Come on, stop being a wimp. You can do this. It’s not like he’s going to bite or anything. At the worst, he can just treat you like you’re nothing. Just like every other good looking guy in the world does. It won’t hurt—much."

Making himself put one foot in front of the other, Reno closed the gap between himself and Bruce. His heart pounded harder the closer he got. His throat grew dry and his breathing became so fast it was a wonder that he didn’t hyperventilate. Before he knew it, he was there. Bruce barely glanced his way before returning his gaze to the water.

Yeah, just the way Reno wanted things to start off. He could already feel himself wanting to crawl into a hole and die.

Out of Service by Devon Rhodes
Jayden couldn’t believe he was actually there at the Meliá Hotel. He shifted his shoulder bag, which seemed to be growing heavier by the minute, yet again as he waited in line in the lobby for check-in. He finally shrugged it off and rested it on the top of his rolling bag.

Excitement warred with nervousness in his gut, leaving him wishing he’d taken the time to grab a bite from one of the dozens of fast-food restaurants he’d passed before he’d eventually made his way through Atlanta’s airport to the transportation area to catch the shuttle.

He hadn’t done much travelling before… Well, to be honest, he hadn’t ever flown before. It had been a huge step for him to leave his podunk little town to come all the way to the East Coast to attend a conference where he didn’t know a soul. Registering had been an impulse, and once that had been done he’d faced the realisation that he was going to then have to buy a plane ticket, reserve a hotel room and actually get there. The planning hadn’t been as bad as he’d thought—it had been kind of fun to imagine being at the event—but that had been last winter and it had seemed so far off at the time.

Soon the day had come when he’d had to pack then drive himself to Denver for his flight. It had taken him way longer than he’d thought to get through security, so he hadn’t had time to eat in the terminal before his flight—it had already been boarding when he’d reached the gate.

He’d vaguely expected that there would be a meal served on the flight like they always showed in the movies. Instead, they’d been offered some undersized and insanely high-priced snack options for purchase. Hell, he could’ve picked up ten at the grocery store for what one would have cost him. In the end, he’d ignored his growling stomach and passed, savouring the free pretzels and going for juice instead of pop.

Now things were really getting dire, and he was feeling a bit lightheaded from lack of blood sugar. He wished the line would hurry up and move before his damn stomach decided to go on a rampage and eat all its neighbouring organs. He eyed the long counter with several computer stations…and one person working.

Seriously? One?

Jayden tried to be patient and looked at the people around him, seeing if he could pick out any other GayRomLit attendees. He didn’t know anyone who would be there other than a few people he had ‘online friendships’ with. A few small clusters of people stood here and there, but he had no way of knowing if they would be with the retreat or were just random travellers.

There was a sudden, piercing squeal as a petite blonde woman appeared out of nowhere to his left and grabbed the long-haired woman in front of him in a crushing hug.

"You’re finally here!" She grinned at her friend then met Jayden’s eyes briefly before scanning the rest of the line. "Have you been waiting long? There’s usually, like, four people working the desk."

"Yeah, we’ve been here forever. My luck, they have a staff meeting or something right when I get here." She laughed, sounding happy in spite of her words. "At least I’m standing up. My flight was lo-ong."

He could relate.

Author Bios:
Carol Lynne
An avid reader for years, one day Carol Lynne decided to write her own brand of erotic romance. Carol juggles between being a full-time mother and a full-time writer. These days, you can usually find Carol either cleaning jelly out of the carpet or nestled in her favourite chair writing steamy love scenes.
Amber Kell
Amber Kell has made a career out of daydreaming. It has been a lifelong habit she practices diligently as shown by her complete lack of focus on anything not related to her fantasy world building.

When she told her husband what she wanted to do with her life he told her to go have fun.

During those seconds she isn't writing she remembers she has children who humor her with games of 'what if' and let her drag them to foreign lands to gather inspiration. Her youngest confided in her that he wants to write because he longs for a website and an author name—two things apparently necessary to be a proper writer.

Despite her husband's insistence she doesn't drink enough to be a true literary genius she continues to spin stories of people falling happily in love and staying that way.

She is thwarted during the day by a traffic jam of cats on the stairway and a puppy who insists on walks, but she bravely perseveres..

She also writes under the name Mikela Q. Chase.

TA Chase
There is beauty in every kind of love, so why not live a life without boundaries? Experiencing everything the world offers fascinates me and writing about the things that make each of us unique is how I share those insights. I live in the Midwest with a wonderful partner of thirteen years. When not writing, I’m watching movies, reading and living life to the fullest.

Jambrea Jo Jones
Jambrea wanted to be the youngest romance author published, but life impeded the dreams. She put her writing aside and went to college briefly, then enlisted in the Air Force. After serving in the military, she returned home to Indiana to start her family. A few years later, she discovered yahoo groups and book reviews. There was no turning back. She was bit by the writing bug.

She enjoys spending time with her son when not writing and loves to receive reader feedback. She’s addicted to the internet so feel free to email her anytime.

Stephani Hecht
Stephani Hecht is a happily married mother of two. Born and raised in Michigan, she loves all things about the state, from the frigid winters to the Detroit Red Wings hockey team. Go Wings! You can usually find her snuggled up to her laptop, creating her next book or gorging on caffeine at her favorite coffee shop.

When she’s not running around like crazy, trying to get her kids to their various activities, she’s currently working on numerous projects. In the coming months, she has several books coming out with eXtasy Books in both The Lost Shifter Series and Drone Vampire Chronicles, plus a few additional projects that are still in the development stages.

Devon Rhodes
From top dog in business to out-of-control mom, I've been at home raising my girls for over a decade. And during that time, I've rediscovered--quite accidentally--the art of romance, specifically erotic romance. One day my muse whispered an idea in my ear, and I sat down at the laptop to try to do it justice. As they say, the rest is history!

Carol Lynne
FACEBOOK  /  TWITTER  /  WEBSITE  /  KOBO
GOOGLE PLAY  /   AUDIBLE  /  AMAZON
PRIDE PUBLISHING  /  B&N  /  ARe  /  GOODREADS
EMAIL: carollynne@carollynne.info

Amber Kell
FACEBOOK  /  TWITTER  /  BLOG  /  KOBO
SMASHWORDS  /  EXTASY  /  AMAZON  /  ARe
B&N  /  DREAMSPINNER  /   GOODREADS
EMAIL: amberkellwrites@gmail.com

TA Chase
TWITTER  /  WEBSITE  /  ARe  /  B&N
KOBO  /  GOOGLE PLAY  /  iTUNES
EMAIL: chase.ta@gmail.com

Jambrea Jo Jones
FACEBOOK  /  TWITTER  /  WEBSITE  /  ARe
AMAZON  /  KOBO  /  GOOGLE PLAY
EMAIL: binojo2@yahoo.com

Stephani Hecht
FACEBOOK  /  TWITTER  /  WEBSITE  /  BLOG
B&N  /  KOBO  /  iTUNES  /  GOOGLE PLAY
TUMBLR  /  SMASHWORDS  /  ARe  /  EXTASY
EMAIL: archangelwriter@yahoo.com

Devon Rhodes
FACEBOOK  /  TWITTER  /  WEBSITE  /  BLOG
GOOGLE+  /  GOOGLE PLAY  /  ARe
EMAIL: devonrhodes@hotmail.com



AMAZON US  /  AMAZON UK  /  B&N


This is What Goodbye Looks Like by Olivia Rivers

Title: This is What Goodbye Looks Like
Author: Olivia Rivers
Genre: Young Adult, Contemporary Romance
Release Date: June 17, 2016
Summary:
Lea Holder watched a boy die in the same DUI accident that ruined Lea’s legs and threw her little sister into a coma. As the only eye-witness to the accident, if she tells the truth in court, the drunk driver will go to prison and the dead boy’s family will have justice.

But Lea lies.

If she had told the truth, Lea would have put her own mom in prison for causing the accident. With the trial over and her mom set free, Lea attempts to rebuild her shattered life as she waits for her little sister to wake from her coma.

When Lea transfers schools, she finds herself in the same senior class as Seth Ashbury, the brother of the boy her mom killed. As Lea gets to know the person buried underneath Seth’s grief, she quickly falls for his quick wit and passionate soul. But Seth remains completely oblivious that Lea is the same girl who robbed his family of justice.

As their relationship deepens, Lea finally gets a taste of the love that’s been missing from her life since the accident. But soon she’s faced with a choice: she can continue her lies and accept the comfort it gives them both. Or she can tell Seth the truth about everything, and risk destroying both her family and her newfound love.


“We should get back inside,” Seth says, his voice sounding exhausted.

“Why?” I ask.

“It’s starting to snow, and I’m not going to be responsible for you getting frostbite.”

“No, I mean, why do you want to get that degree for your brother? Seth, it’s...it’s not going to bring him back.”

“That’s why I need to get the degree,” he says, his words suddenly desperate and rushed. “Because it was Parker’s dream for years, and he might not be around anymore, but that degree is. He deserves to have his dream survive, even if he can’t.”

“I’ll do it,” I say. The words slip from me before I can think them through, but as soon as they’re out, I realize I don’t even want to take them back. “I’ll help you with the project. Just tell me what to do, and, yeah. I...I’ll do it.”

Seth deflates then, his shoulders sagging and breath heaving from his chest. For a moment, I think I’ve said something wrong, but then he hoarsely murmurs, “Thank you. Really. It means a lot.”

I wonder if I’m finally helping Seth instead of hurting him. Taking a couple pictures will never, ever make up for what I did, but still...it’s obviously a comfort. And I have absolutely no right to deny him any comfort I can offer.

“So are you going to tell me what this project is?” I ask.

He bites at the inside of his cheek. “It’s a thesis project, so it’s definitely not something I can explain quickly. But how about we meet in the library tomorrow and go over stuff properly. At eight-thirty, maybe?”

“Eight-thirty in the morning? It’s the weekend.”

He shrugs, but his tone is unapologetic as he says, “I like mornings.”

“Okay,” I say, giving a reluctant nod. “Eight-thirty it is.”

He nods and pats his leg, silently calling Koda. She comes bounding across the patio, skidding to a stop hardly inches from him. Then she trots over to me, licks my hand, and dutifully goes back to Seth’s side, looking up at him with adoring eyes and a lolling tongue.

I head back inside, leaving behind the cold and the snow, and Seth hovers next to me with Koda guiding him along.

“Sorry she keeps licking you,” he says, absently stroking his dog’s head. “She doesn’t usually do that, you know.”

“It’s no problem,” I say, reaching over to ruffle Koda’s ears. “I like it.”

“I knew you were a dog person,” Seth says, sounding almost smug.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

He offers me a vague smile. “It means dogs have good taste.”

Brie waves at us as we step back into the main room, and the others toss out greetings like we’ve been gone for days instead of just fifteen minutes. Cameron suggests getting coffee across the street, and waves around a couple twenties, saying he’ll buy. Judging by Landon’s scowl, I get the feeling he just lost the cash over a pinball game. Everyone starts packing up their stuff and throwing coats back on, and we’re about to leave when a hand brushes my shoulder, the touch a strange mixture of strength and gentleness.

“Thanks,” Seth says softly as the others push past us, heading for the door.

I wait for myself to cringe away from his touch, but instead, a sense of warmth washes over me. “Like I said, it’s no problem,” I say, hoping I don’t sound as confused as I feel. “I’ll bring my camera tomorrow, and we can get started.”

“No, not that. Well, yeah, thanks for that, too. But thanks for not calling me crazy for wanting to finish Parker’s project.”

He offers me a small, soft smile that’s a thousand times more sincere than the one on my lips. If there’s anything insane about him, it’s that he still manages an expression that genuine when he’s in so much pain.

“You’re not crazy,” I say. “You just care.”

“Sometimes I think they’re the same thing,” he murmurs, his smile falling away.

I nod slowly. “Sometimes I think you’re right.”

Before he can make me explain, I follow the others outside, holding my breath as I brace against the inevitable surge of cold.

Author Bio:
Olivia Rivers is a hybrid author of Young Adult fiction. Her works include the independently published novels “This is What Goodbye Looks Like” and “In the Hope of Memories,” along with the traditionally published novel “Tone Deaf” (Skyhorse 2016.) As a certified geek, she enjoys experimenting with new publishing technologies, and her online serials have received over 1,000,000 hits on Wattpad. When Olivia isn’t working as a writer, she’s a typical teen attending college in Northern California. Olivia is represented by Laurie McLean of Fuse Literary, and nothing thrills her more than hearing from readers.


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Sunday, June 19, 2016

Sunday's Safe Word Shelf: Pit Road by Anah Crow & Dianne Fox


Summary:
True love has no brakes.

Running Under Caution #1

Denny Clay never had much going for him, until the racing circuit took him out of the trailer park and away from his bigoted family. Luck smiled on him, and now he’s settled down—in the closet—with his crew chief and boyfriend, Sully Price.

Though they’re winning races and the fight to keep their relationship secret, Denny can’t shake the feeling he’s going to have to pay up for all this happiness. He never imagined reckoning would come in the form of a rare medical condition that might cost him his career. And maybe Sully too.

For once, Sully’s at a loss, with nothing in his fix-everything toolbox designed to repair his broken lover—or stop Denny’s inevitable slide into a black hole of self-loathing. With a little creativity and a few kinky accessories, Sully shifts into overdrive in the race to get Denny turned around. And prays that his stubborn persistence doesn’t drive their love into a ditch.

Warning: Broken heroes, hot sex, and one man’s hardcore determination to keep his lover in one piece.



Chapter One
Downshift
In the days before the race, Denny’s mood had been in the gutter. He’d snapped at everyone, even Sully, the way he hated when other drivers did it. Sully’s muttered suggestion that they should take off and grab a motel room somewhere didn’t help. It had been the last straw, pushed Denny from antsy to about as nervous as a leaf in a tornado. By the time he got himself buckled in nice and safe—well, everyone else was safe from him—he was ready to spit nails.

“Breathe.” Sully leaned in the window and tugged at one of his belts. Denny wanted to bite him, and not in the good way. “Nothing’s wrong.”

“Don’t say things like that.”

That was the whole problem. Denny was too damn happy. He’d made top ten in the last five races. They had money coming in, had a sponsor who owned more than one local business. The car was perfect. They had the cash for tires. The backup car was perfect. All week, he kept praying for something to go wrong. Here they were, waiting for the start signal and nothing had gone wrong.

“Since when did you get superstitious?” Sully smacked the side of the car as he straightened up. “Behave yourself out there.”

“You want me to behave or you want me to win?” Denny glared at him but good before pulling his helmet on.

“Both. Whatever’s eating you, leave it at the start line.”

Easy for him to say. Denny went through his usual start-up ritual, checking everything twice, making sure he wasn’t forgetting anything.

Maybe something would go wrong tomorrow. Maybe he’d forgotten to pay the phone bill. He still wasn’t so good at this whole home-ownership thing.

He’d probably forgotten a condo-association fee. That would do. He’d take anything right now. A wreck. That would be even better.

He needed something to go wrong, just a little something. Wrecking Sully’s perfectly balanced masterpiece would do nicely. A wreck wasn’t what worried him. What had him all wound up was the idea of getting busted for being Sully’s lover. He could take anything but that. Jesus, anything at all.

But nothing went wrong.

Not even a dropped lug nut on a tire change. Sully would kill him for speeding on pit road, so he didn’t try to go there, though he was damn tempted. Five laps from the end of the race, and he was running smoothly in third, staring at the back end of the second-place car. Michaelson was a temperamental bitch to pass, but Denny was better in the turns than anyone on the track—and that wasn’t being vain.

God, he loved driving. And he loved driving Sully’s cars. He could feel Sully’s touch every time he drove down into a corner, that magical thing Sully could do that made the car cling to the track no matter how Denny pushed its limits. He could feel it through his hands, his feet, his spine. Sully’s magic let him downshift coming out of turn three and into four, tires gnawing along the low line. Coming out of four, he saw the numbers of Michaelson’s car, the big red 08, slide through his peripheral vision and fall behind him.

His car—their car—bit down on the straightaway, and he opened her up to put some distance between him and Michaelson before he hit traffic up ahead, guys struggling to get a lap back by passing the lead car. Kennedy. Denny wasn’t too interested in catching Kennedy unless the chance offered itself up, he was more interested in staying ahead of Michaelson. Kennedy hadn’t finished top ten in two months and racked up DNFs like he was starting a collection. Michaelson, on the other hand, was a pain in the ass.

The next lap was like running an obstacle course. He got three-wide with Michaelson and some kid four laps down who didn’t know when to step aside and let his betters through. Almost done with the race. Almost done and then he’d have nothing ahead of him for days except beer, takeout and Sully. If they got through this in one piece, maybe that meant the universe, or the Good Lord, or whoever was in charge, was gonna let Denny get away with being in love with Sully. Wouldn’t that be good?

Denny was deciding whether or not to downshift into turn two when the world went sideways, upside down, and then did it again. All he could think was how damn loud everything was. Deafening.

Just as suddenly, everything was still. He put his hands back on the wheel belatedly—he wasn’t moving. His head was spinning, and the air was full of dust and smoke. His brain wanted him to slow down for the caution flag, like it hadn’t caught on to the fact that he was the damn caution.

Engine off. Everything off. Breathe.

Sully’s voice kept nagging at him. Shut up, Sully. Just. Shut up.

“Talk to me.”

“I will once I’m out of this damn car.” Jesus, what was wrong with Sully that he sounded so messed up? Denny unbuckled and tried to climb out of his seat, but something was caught around his legs. “Or not.”

“Can you breathe?” That wasn’t coming from his helmet, that was from outside the car. The bright flash of an orange jumper blocked his view out the side as someone leaned into the car. “Let’s take that helmet off so we can have a look at you. Gloves too.”

“I’m fine.” He ripped the helmet off and tossed it—and Sully’s voice—aside. “Just can’t get out.”

“Can you feel your feet?” The paramedic clipped something onto one of Denny’s fingers.

“Yeah.” And his legs hurt like hell. “Help me out of here. I need to get out.”

“Don’t know if we can do that yet.”

As the world resolved into something Denny could understand, he looked beyond the safety grating that served as a windshield in sprint cars to see a post in front of him. Lamppost. Retaining wall. He was facing the center of the field inside the track, a few feet from the entrance to pit road. That was a long way from where he’d been last time he’d known where he was.

The hood of his car was gone. Hell, a lot of his car was gone. What was left looked like a smashed beer can.

“I need to do this.”

Denny realized he was pushing away hands that kept trying to touch him. “Sorry. Then can I get out of here?” He dropped his hands. Now that everything was still, he was starting to panic.

“As soon as we haul those saws over here. I need to listen to your breathing.” The paramedic started to undo his jumpsuit. “I want you to think hard about if anything hurts, especially in your legs or your belly.”

“How long will that take?”

“I’ll find out. Stop talking.”

Denny did as he was told, closing his eyes while he thought about what hurt. Everything. Not helpful. Narrow it down.

Right knee. Left ankle. Hips. Chest. Jaw. It didn’t hurt too much to breathe, though. No more than he’d expect out of a wreck.

“You look okay,” the paramedic said, once they’d done the song and dance. “The way you hit the wall has you caught, but I’m not seeing any blood. If you can feel everything, you’re a lucky guy.”

“Too lucky,” Denny muttered.

“I’ll find out when we can cut you free. There’s a few other cars wrecked that get priority over yours. I’ll be back.”

The paramedic was gone, then, leaving Denny in his little metal cocoon, an oasis of stillness in the flurry of lights and urgency outside. He closed his eyes again and tried to ignore the pain in his leg. Damn thing better not be broken.

Something finally went wrong. At least now he could relax.

“Taking a nap?”

Denny opened his eyes to see Sully leaning in. He looked as wrecked as the car, face bleached out until his freckles were nothing but paint splatter on his face.

“That’s better.”

“What happened?”

“Michaelson got dumped, caught your right rear coming off the wall behind you. Someone T-boned you in the smoke and you went ass over tea kettle into the wall here.” Sully’s callused hand found one of Denny’s and held on way too long. “They’ll cut you out soon.”

“What’s the hold up?” Denny tried not to pull his hand out of Sully’s, but he couldn’t help it.

“Michaelson. He’s out cold. It doesn’t look good.” Sully crossed his arms on the rear tire and squatted to put his chin on them, looking in at Denny. “I’ll stay here until they can get to you. Just tell me if you need anything.”

“I need a beer.”

Sully snorted and shook his head. “I’ll buy you one as soon as you’re checked out.”

By the time they cut him out of the car, he could barely straighten his legs, but he was damned if they were gonna put him on a stretcher. After he took a swing at the guy trying to put a collar on him, they let him do what he wanted, with dire warnings that he was going to end up paralyzed or something.

He wasn’t buying it. He got his arm around Sully’s neck and both feet on the ground once he was out of the car. Sure, he was walking off to an ambulance but, damn it, he was walking. It felt like he’d been through a huge test and come out on top. All he wanted now was a shower and Sully and a beer. Sadly, he was going to the ER.

Going there didn’t mean he had to stay there, though. He refused the offer of x-rays to check for broken bones and everything else they wanted to do to him. He let them give him some OTC painkillers and a once-over, then he limped to the waiting room. Sully was slumped in a chair by the door, looking miserable.

“Why the long face?”

“You’re done?” Sully pushed himself up and met him halfway, stopping just before he touched him.

“Yeah. Signed myself out. Nothing’s broken, I don’t need any damn x-rays. And you owe me a beer.” He was sore, but it was nothing a few drinks and a hot shower wouldn’t cure. And some time in bed. Maybe even a little of the time sleeping.

“You sure?” Sully looked so worried, Denny wanted to smack him.

“You trying to get outta buying me a beer?” Denny headed for the door, trying to walk normal so Sully wouldn’t give him any crap.

“Hell, no. You actually gonna let me?” Sully caught up to him, keys to the truck jingling in his hand.

“What else is gonna go wrong tonight?” Denny felt better as soon as the doors opened and the night air hit his face. Nothing else, that was what.

They were gonna head to the bar, get drunk and celebrate coming out of that crash in one piece.

Half an hour later and halfway through his second beer, Denny knew he was wrong. Very wrong. His right leg hurt like nothing he’d ever felt before.

“You okay?” Sully’s voice sounded far away. Denny couldn’t tell if he shook his head or nodded in response.

“Sore.” He dug in his pocket for the white tablets and took them all—he couldn’t count—with a swallow of beer. Please, God, let ’em work. His hands shook and his stomach did flips. Felt like something was tearing his leg apart. When he reached down to feel it, he was sure his hand was going to come away bloody, but there was nothing on his skin.

“Denny.” Sully was talking to him, but he couldn’t hear any words other than his name. His blood howled in his ears, and it was all he could do not to scream.

Make it stop, make it stop, make it stop.

He’d been fine. Everything had been fine. He’d looked normal. Nothing could be wrong.

“Sugar.” Sully never called him that in public. For a moment, Denny’s focus locked on to Sully’s face. He could see fear there. Terror. Then his stomach rolled, and he barely turned away in time to puke all over the floor—beer, bile and half-dissolved little white tablets.

Everything Denny knew about himself, believed about himself, sheared away as the pain broke him into pieces. He never cried, except that he was crying now. Never begged for anything, from anyone, yet the words kept coming up like he was still vomiting. Please, make it stop. Do something. Anything. Please. He knew pain, but this wasn’t pain, this was what he deserved for everything he was.

Sully hung over him, and Denny was vaguely aware that he was on the floor. All he could feel was betrayed. Why wouldn’t Sully help him? It would be so easy, and yet Sully just kept talking, like Denny was burning to death and Sully was trying to put out the fire with his words.

“God, Sully, help me.”

There was no help. Not from anyone. Not in the ambulance, not in the emergency room, not until everything went dark.

Author Bios:
Anah Crow 
Anah Crow has been writing with Dianne Fox since 2003. Her job in their partnership is to spew out ideas, hammer out prose, and bomb, drown, incinerate, and otherwise torment their characters. Fortunately, she has Dianne to channel all that energy into something publishable.

When she isn't writing with Dianne...she's usually writing. She lives in Canada with two dogs, her partner, her teenager, far too many craft supplies, and a small herd of computers -- Macs and PCs (don't tell Dianne about those).

Dianne Fox
Dianne Fox has been writing with Anah Crow since 2003. Her job in their partnership is to organize their shared toys, herd cats (shorthand for keeping Anah's brain on track), and polish everything they produce. She manages to keep sane -- or something like it -- with help from her unnatural affection for list-making.

When she isn't writing with Anah, she's working as a nanny, taking a break from chasing Anah by chasing children. She lives in the USA with her partner, her two cats, far too many craft supplies, and her beloved Macs.


Anah Crow
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EMAIL: anahcrow@gmail.com

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Ghost Hope by Ripley Patton

Title: Ghost Hope
Author: Ripley Patton
Series: PSS Chronicles #4
Genre: Young Adult, Paranormal, Thriller
Release Date: June 15, 2016

***Ghost Hand #1 is FREE and #2 & #3 are on
sale for 99cents until the end of June***

Summary:
Olivia Black does not feel safe. Nightmares plague her sleep and haunt her days. If she has to endure one more minute stuck in a safe house in rainy Portland, she’s going to lose it. When Mike Palmer sneaks off to find her sister Kaylee without her, it’s the last straw. She has to do something.

Then Palmer’s hackers find the Dome on a satellite feed: dark, abandoned and smack in the middle of the Oregon desert three hundred miles from where it started. If they can reach it before anyone else, they can crack the computer systems and access every piece of information on PSS the CAMFers and The Hold have ever collected.

But in order to do that, Olivia must return to the origin of her fears in a race against all the forces that have ever pitted themselves against her. She must unravel decades of deceit to reveal the true origins of Psyche Sans Soma to the world at last.


"Olivia!" My mother's voice jolted me awake.

I sat up in the rental van's passenger seat, wiping drool from my cheek. Chase and T-dog's Westfalia had stopped in front of us at a massive gate rising out of the darkness, topped with barbed wire and sporting several Danger: High Voltage and No Trespassing on Federal Land signs.

We had arrived at Umatilla, and I'd fallen asleep, like I always did in a moving vehicle, before I'd explained to my mother that I'd lied about our destination. We were not on a scenic over-nighter up the Columbia River Gorge. That had just been a cover story.

"Olivia Anne Black," she said, pointing at the gate. "What is that?"

"Um—I don't know," I stammered. "We must have taken a wrong turn."

"Is this the motel?" Grant asked groggily from the back. It sounded like I wasn't the only one who'd taken a nap.

"No, it's not," my mother answered testily. "What the hell is he doing?"

She was referring to T-Dog, who had gotten out of their van carrying something bulky under his arm. When he set it down and started fiddling with a controller in his hands, I realized it was one of those personal drones. Suddenly, the little thing lit up and went whirling into the air, kicking up dust and flying over the gate. On the other side, it dipped down and stopped, a green light flashing on its undercarriage as it hovered over some kind of control panel. As I watched, a green light began flashing on the panel too, like they were communicating with one another. Because they were. T-dog was hacking into Umatilla. He was breaking into a federally-owned chemical depot.

I could feel my mother turning toward me, a question in her eyes, her lips parting to ask it.

Headlights, high and wide, flashed in the rearview mirror, blinding me. They were barreling down on us, but I only heard the rev of the engine just before the crunch of impact.

The whole van jerked forward, shoving us toward the back of the Westfalia and stopping only inches from its rear bumper.

"What the—?" Grant yelled, and I heard cries of alarm from Passion and Samantha.

My seatbelt dug into my waist and my shoulder, but the airbags hadn't deployed, so that was good.

In front of us, T-Dog scrambled back into their van and slammed his door. The gate started to open, the drone hovering on the other side, still blinking green.

There was another crunching sound and a slight tug backwards. Then, more revving.

"Hold on. They're coming again," my mother said, jamming the van into drive and laying on the horn like a mad woman. We couldn't go anywhere. The Westfalia was right in front of us and some lunatic was behind us, gearing up to rear-end us a second time.

"We have to go through," I told my mom, gesturing at the gate.

"I know," she said, glaring out at the windshield and revving our engine now. "Get out of my way, you two. What are you waiting for?" she mumbled under her breath, laying on the horn again and not letting up.

The vehicle behind was almost upon us. I could hear it coming.

Up ahead, T-dog glanced at me in his side view mirror, but it was too dark to read his expression. Had he and Chase set us up? Was this their doing?

The gate was open wider now, maybe wide enough for the Westfalia, but would it be enough for our bigger van?

"Hold on," my mom said, glancing in the rearview mirror and slamming her foot on the gas.

I braced myself, this time for impact from the back and front, but it didn’t come.

We surged forward, gently kissing the back bumper of the Westfalia, both of us racing through the still opening gate. I heard a horrible sound, metal screeching against metal, and sparks flew in a shower away from us as the huge closures of the gate scraped down both sides of our van.

As soon as we were free and clear, Chase veered off to the right and pulled to a stop. As we drove past, I could see T-Dog holding the drone remote out his window, working it frantically, trying to close the gate before our attackers made it in. But he wasn't fast enough. The pick-up truck that had rear-ended us roared forward, squeezing through just like we had. For a moment, I thought it had a really weird hood ornament, but then I realized it was the drone, flying low and toward us in front of the truck.

"Get higher," I murmured to the little thing. As if hearing me, it did, rising above the front of the truck only to plummet a second later just as the vehicle overtook it.

And then it was gone, sucked under the huge wheel of the big truck with a soft crunch and a shower of shrapnel spraying from its undercarriage.

"Stop the van," I told my mother, but she'd already turned and was pulling up alongside the guys.

"Who is that?" I shouted out my window at Chase, pointing at the truck as it pulled up, headlights blinding us all, the gate clanging shut behind it.

"I have no idea," he shouted back. "But I think we're about to find out."

A truck door slammed.

A dark form moved, crossing the dusty swathe of its high beams, and a man emerged, tall, wrinkled, and tan, a long rifle dangling from his right hand.



Author Bio:
Ripley Patton lives in Portland, Oregon with one cat, two teenagers, and a man who wants to live on a boat. She doesn't smoke, or drink, or cuss as much as her characters. Her only real vices are writing, eating M&Ms, and watching reality television.

Ripley is an award-winning short story writer and author of The PSS Chronicles, a young adult paranormal thriller series. The first book in the series, GHOST HAND, was a semi-finalist for The Kindle Book Review 2013 Best Indie Book Awards and a Cybil Award Nominee.

The second book in the series, GHOST HOLD, was released in September 2013.

The third book in the series, GHOST HEART, was released in October 2014.

And GHOST HOPE, the final book of the series will be released in the Spring 2016.

You can find out more about Ripley and her fiction on her website.


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Ghost Hope #4

Series
***Ghost Hand #1 is FREE and #2 & #3 are on
sale for 99cents until the end of June***




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