Spotlight: Excerpt from Hero Haters by Ken MacQueen

Hero Haters

by Ken MacQueen

November 7 - December 2, 2022 Virtual Book Tour

Synopsis:

He seeks redemption, others want revenge

Jake Ockham had a dream job, vetting nominees for the Sedgewick Medallion-the nation's highest civilian award for heroism. His own scarred hands are an indelible reminder of the single mother he failed to pull from a raging house fire; her face haunts him still. Obligations drag him back to his hometown to edit the family newspaper but attempts to embrace small-town life, and the hot new doctor, are thwarted by unknown forces. The heroes Jake vetted go missing and he becomes the prime suspect in the disappearances. Aided by resourceful friends, Jake follows a twisted trail to the Dark Web, where a shadowy group is forcing the kidnapped medalists to perform deadly acts of valor to amuse twisted subscribers to its website. To save his heroes, Jake must swallow his fears and become one himself...or die in the attempt.

Praise for Hero Haters:

"An edge of your seat thriller. MacQueen, a journalist, ratchets up the suspense and tightens the grip to the explosive end."

Robert Dugoni New York Times Bestselling Author of The Tracy Crosswhite series

"Gripping from the first page. A thrill ride with all the right moves."

Rick Mofina USA Today Bestselling Author

Book Details:

Genre: Adult Thriller
Published by: The Wild Rose Press, Inc
Publication Date: October 2022
Number of Pages: 366
ISBN: 9781509243853 (ISBN10: 1509243852)
Book Links: Amazon | Barnes & Noble | Goodreads

Read an excerpt:

Prologue

Spokane, Washington, August 2019

Local hero Anderson Wise can’t remember the last time he paid for a drink at Sharkey’s.

Nor can he remember an embarrassing assortment of the women who selflessly shared their affection, post-Sharkey’s.

As for that last blurry night at the gin mill, he wished to hell he’d stayed home.

The bar’s owner, Sharon Key, hence Sharkey’s, took joy in chumming the waters on Wise’s behalf for a regular catch of what she called “Hero Worshippers.”

She saw getting him laid as partial repayment for saving her eleven-year-old grandson Toby’s life some eighteen months back.

A disaffected dad, high on crystal meth, stormed into Toby’s classroom to take issue with his kid’s latest report card. He showed his displeasure by shot-gunning the teacher, then reloaded and asked all A-students to identify themselves. Being A-students, they dutifully raised their hands, Toby among them.

As the high-as-a-kite shooter herded the high achievers to the front of the class, Wise, the school custodian, charged into the room armed with a multipurpose dry-chemical fire extinguisher. He blasted the shooter with a white cloud of monoammonium phosphate, to minimal effect, then slammed the gun out of his hands. It discharged into the floor sending several pellets into Wise’s left foot. Thoroughly pissed, Wise ended the drama by pile-driving the extinguisher into the shooter’s face.

Sharon Key, a widow in her early sixties, subsequently replaced the beer signs and dart board with blow-ups of the laudatory press Wise earned during the tragic aftermath. The front of the next day’s local paper held pride of place. It carried a photo of Wise, extinguisher in hand, under the headline: Greater Tragedy Averted as Hero Janitor Extinguishes Threat. The story contained a pull quote in large font which Wise came to regret: “ ‘It’s a versatile extinguisher,’ the modest 30-year-old explained, ‘good for class A, B and C fires—and meth-heads’.”

Said famous extinguisher now guards the top-shelf booze behind Sharkey’s oak-and-brass bar.

New stories were added to Sharkey’s wall five months back after Wise was awarded, with much publicity, the Sedgewick Trust Sacrifice Medallion— one of the most prestigious recognitions of heroism that American civilians can receive.

Wise’s liver and a lower part of his anatomy took a renewed pounding in the weeks thereafter. So much so he declared a moratorium on visits to Sharkey’s for reasons of self-preservation.

He was back in the saddle a month now, but his attendance was spotty. “This hero stuff,” he confided to Key one night, while slumped in his chair. “Maybe it’s too much of a good thing?”

“Ya think?” Key muttered as she took inventory of that night’s limited offerings.

It wasn’t just the women. Men often bought him drinks too, happy to bask in the reflected glory of a proven manly man.

Two weeks ago, some weedy academic from back east interviewed him at Sharkey’s and staked him to an alcohol-fueled dinner at the city’s best chop house. The brainy one expected Wise to opine on such things as “neo-Darwinian rules for altruism.”

Asked him if he’d been motivated by “a kinship bond” with anyone in the room?

Er, no.

Wondered if Wise knew that a disproportionate number of risk takers are working-class males?

Nope, sorry.

And had he calculated in the moment that a heroic display of “good genes” would make him a desirable mating partner?

Cripes. Really?

“Don’t know what I was thinking,” Wise said, swirling a glass of something called Amarone, a wine so amazing angels must have crushed the grapes with their tiny, perfect feet. “Heard a gun blast, grabbed the fire extinguisher off the wall. Saw the dead teacher, all those kids, and a nut with a shotgun. Did what anybody would do. I spent three years in the army after high school, mostly in the motor pool. Much as I hated basic training, maybe some of it stuck. Who knows?”

The academic gave a condescending smile and called for the bill, his hypothesis apparently confirmed.

Wise fled to the restaurant toilet and took notes on the back of his pay slip. Back home, he Googled the hell out of studies on “extreme altruist stimuli,” on “empirical perspectives on the duty to rescue,” and after many false starts, on theories of “Byronic and Lilithian Heroes.”

He kinda got the concept of “desirable mating partner”, but he was pretty sure his dick didn’t lead him into that classroom. Did it?

While not a reflective guy, Wise had to admit it was creepy to reap the fleshy benefits of his few seconds of glory while his dreams were haunted by visions of teacher Adah Summerhill slumped over her desk, blood pooled beneath her. So much blood. With the shooter sprawled unconscious, Wise gently lifted Adah’s head.

She had no pulse and her eyes, once so vibrant and expressive, were as empty as an open grave. She’d always been nice, and totally out of his league.

So, here he was, back at Sharkey’s, mind made up.

Key arrived at his “courting table” and set down his Jack and ginger ale.

“Gave my notice at the school,” he told her. “Getting outta here for a while. Got that Sedgewick money to spend. Someplace they don’t know me. Mexico, maybe.

Or Costa Rica.”

Key patted his hand. “Knew this was coming, Andy.

You banged every eligible female in town, pretty much.

And some who shoulda been out of bounds. I’m amazed the Tourist Bureau doesn’t list you as a top-ten attraction, up there with the botanical gardens.”

“All I want, Shar, is to be liked for me, not for something I did because I happened to be in the wrong place at the right time. Or is that the other way ’round?”

“Hey, you’re a good-looking guy. Still got that shaggy blond baseball player thing going for ya.

Might’ve taken a run at you myself if my hips weren’t shot.” She patted his cheek. “Made you blush. Now don’t turn into a beach bum down there. Always thought you aimed too low, mopping floors and washing windows for the school board. Time to stretch—”

She craned her neck toward the door after it opened with a bang. “My, my, here’s one for the road. She was in earlier, asking after you.” Key aimed a nod at the door and whispered, “Don’t strain anything.” And headed to the bar.

Wise looked up and…sweet Jesus.

Early twenties, he guessed. His eyes roamed from strappy sandals, up a long expanse of tanned bare legs to a glittering silver dress that started perilously high-thigh and ended well below exposed shoulders. The ripe promise of youth was on full display, like she’d dipped her bounteous curves in liquid lamé.

She drew every eye in the place as she undulated to his table. Full red lips, high cheekbones, chestnut hair piled high. Up close now, her gimlet eyes were at once innocent and knowing, like a debauched choirgirl.

“Hi, hero.” Her voice was low and sultry, as he knew it would be. She remained on her feet, hands on the table, leaning low to full effect. “When you finish that drink, I really want to see your medal.”

**** He remembered her mixing drinks back at his apartment while he retrieved his medallion from the sock drawer in his bedroom. He remembered her running a sensuous thumb over the bas-relief portrait of Philip Sedgewick as she read aloud the inscription: “The most sublime act is to set another before you.”

That wondrous voice lingering over “sublime act,”

like it was lifted from the Kama Sutra.

And like too many times, post-Sharkey’s, damned if he could remember her name—that evil bitch. He awoke, bouncing in the back of a van, hands and legs cuffed to rings set in the floor. A broken-glass headache served notice of every bump in the road.

Another lost night at Sharkey’s.

Wise had a dreadful feeling he’d never be back.

Chapter One Aberdeen, Washington, July, one month earlier Jake Ockham was one kilometer in, one kilometer to go and already in a world of pain. Lungs, legs and palms, always the damned palms, screaming enough already.

He’d whaled away on his Concept II rowing machine for thirty minutes, building up to this. Stripped off the sweatshirt after ten minutes, the t-shirt after twenty-five. Down now to running shoes and gym shorts, his torso gleaming with sweat despite the morning chill.

He’d rested after a thirty-minute warm-up to gulp water and to consider the need to reinforce the pilings under the creaky wooden deck before it dumped him and the ergometer into the Wishkah River below. Might leave it in the river mud if it came to that.

Full race mode now, one kilometer in, another to go.

The erg’s computer showed the need to pick up the pace to break the six-minute barrier, something he’d regularly shattered a decade ago during his university rowing days.

Thrust with the legs, throw back the shoulders, arms ripping back the handle. Return to the catch and repeat.

Five hundred meters to go. Eyes fixed on a duck touching down on the river, looking anywhere but the screen.

Two hundred and fifty meters. Faster. Harder. Don’t lose the technique.

Fifty meters. You can do this.

A final piston thrust of legs, shoulders, arms and…six minutes, thirteen seconds.

“Fuck!” His roar startled the duck into flight.

He slumped over the machine, gasping for air, ripping at the Velcro tabs of his gloves, throwing them on the deck in disgust. Hated those damned gloves, so essential these days.

Head bowed, he heard the cabin’s door rasp open.

“Such language.” Clara Nufeld, his aunt, and technically his boss as publisher of the Grays Harbor Independent, leaned against the doorframe.

He didn’t look up. “Don’t bother knocking. Make yourself at home.”

“I did, and I am. Got a couple of things to show you.

Right up your alley. Might be pieces for next week’s issue.”

She was lean and tall, in tight jeans and a faded Nirvana sweatshirt, her spiked white hair cut short. At sixty-four, she still turned heads. Jake knew her age to the day, Clara being his mother’s identical twin. Connie, his late mother, fell to breast cancer at age forty-five.

So much of his mother in Clara. So much that when Jake finished high school and rode his rowing scholarship east to Pittsburgh’s Carnegie Mellon University, his father, Roger Ockham, moved his accounting business to Bend, Oregon. Said it was for the golfing, but Jake suspected the sight of his late wife’s twin was a constant reminder of his loss.

Connie and Clara, fresh out of university, worked for their father at the Independent, Clara on the advertising side, Connie as a reporter.

They took the helm of the paper after Derwin Nufeld—their dad, Jake’s grandfather—collapsed and died mid-way through crafting a fiery editorial on a mule-headed decision to pull The Catcher in the Rye from the high school library.

After Connie’s death, Clara did double duty as editor and publisher until she succeeded six months ago in luring Jake home to Washington State from Pittsburgh to take over as editor-in-chief.

This five-room stilt home, Clara’s former cottage on the tidal Wishkah, was his signing bonus.

One of the dwindling numbers of real estate ads in the Independent would describe the cabin something like: “A cozy oasis on the Wishkah, surrounded by nature and just minutes from the city. Fish from your deck while contemplating the possibilities for this prime riverfront property. A bit of TLC gets you a rustic getaway while you make plans for your dream home.”

After years in urban Pittsburgh, he awoke now to bird chatter and the sights and scents of the moody, muddy Wishkah—its current pulled, as he was pulled, to the infinite Pacific.

Jake gathered his shirts and gloves and cringed at a sniff-test of his underarms. “I’ll keep my distance.” He waved Clara inside. “What’s up my alley?”

She waved two dummy pages, the ads already laid out, plenty of blank space for him and his skeleton staff to fill with stories and photos.

Jake was still adjusting to small-town journalism, covering at least one earnest service club luncheon every week, puffy profiles of local businesses, check presentations, city council and school board meetings.

And jamming in as many names as possible. He’d done some summer reporting for the weekly during his high school years, but rowing had occupied most of his time.

Clara handed off a page proof with a boxed advert already laid out. “A new doctor is taking over old Doc Wilson’s practice, thank God. I swear the last medical journal that old man read was on the efficacy of leeches and bloodletting.”

Jake nodded. Worth a story for sure. A few words from Wilson about passing the scalpel to a new generation, then focus on Dr. Christina Doctorow. No hardship there.

The ad for her family practice included her photo.

Rather than the cliché white coat and stethoscope she wore hiking shorts and a flannel shirt with rolled sleeves, thick dark hair in a ponytail, a daypack hanging off a shoulder. A husky at her side gazed up adoringly.

Smart dog.

Jake put her at early thirties, his age more or less. He nodded approval. “Sporty. A fine addition to the Grays Harbor gene pool.”

“The woman’s a firecracker. Spent ten minutes haggling down the price. I finally caved. Said I’ll bump this up to a half-page, but you owe me a free checkup.”

“Seriously?”

“What she said, too. Also asked ‘Is that ethical?’ I said, ‘darling, I’m in advertising. You want ethics, deal with my nephew on the editorial side.’ “

Jake laughed. “Pretty good at bloodletting herself.

What else you got?”

“This is so up your alley.” She handed him a classified ad page-proof. “You being an expert.”

Jake slumped onto a kitchen chair. “On what?”

She tapped a one-column boxed ad in the lower left, “Heroes.”

“Not hardly.”

He looked closer and reared back. The heading read: “For Sale. Rare Sedgewick Sacrifice Medallion. $100 OBO.”

There was a thumbnail photo of the medal’s obverse, showing the craggy face of Philip Sedgewick, a leading member of the long-dead school of industrialist robber barons. He’d amassed a fortune in textile mills, newspapers, and exploitive labor practices. Awash in cash he came to philanthropy late in life. Like others in this elite group—Carnegie, Mellon, Rockefeller, Vanderbilt, et al—their names and reputation-burnishing generosity live beyond the grave.

Sedgewick, at his wife’s urging, chose to celebrate extraordinary acts of heroism. He used eight of his many millions—an enormous sum in 1901—to endow a family trust to award exceptional heroism with the Sacrifice Medallion and needs-based financial assistance. Over the past one hundred twenty years, the trust awarded some eleven thousand medallions, an inspiring legacy of courage, and yes, sacrifice.

The grainy photo in the classified ad was too small to read the inscription under Sedgewick’s stern visage, but Jake knew it well. It was a quotation by the English poet William Blake: “The most sublime act is to set another before you.”

Below the photo was a post office box address, and “mail inquiries only.”

Jake shook his head. “This is nuts. The price is insanely low, insulting really. The medallions are kinda priceless.”

“I wondered about that,” Clara said. “The ad cost fifty dollars so not much of a profit.”

“The rare few that get to auction can fetch in the thousands. We try to buy them back, prefer that to having them land up in the hands of the undeserving.”

Clara cocked an eyebrow. “We?”

Jake shrugged. “I still do the occasional freelance investigations for Sedgewick. The thing is, there’s never a good reason to sell these. Either the recipient is dead broke, or dead without relatives to inherit it. Or it’s stolen.”

“Or,” Clara said, resting a hand on Jake’s shoulder, “the hero feels undeserving.”

He flinched. “Was there a photo of the medal’s back? It’d have the recipient’s name and the reason it was awarded.”

“Don’t even know who placed the ad. Arrived in the mail: a photo, the ad copy, and a fifty-dollar bill. No return address but the post office box.”

“Pull the ad, Clara. I’ll buy it and return the money.

There’s a story here, something’s not right.”

Clara toyed with her car keys. “I feel bad sometimes, guilting you back. Do you miss it, your old life back in Pittsburgh?”

His pause was barely discernable. “Great to be back in the old hometown.”

“Great to earn half the salary you did in the big city?

Great to prop up the family business? Great to be stuck with your old aunt?”

“Aunt doesn’t cover it. I was twelve when Mom passed. You stepped up for Dad and me.”

She looked like she was about to say something, then shook her head and flashed an enigmatic smile. “A topic for another day. Gotta run.”

She leaned across the table, took his hands in hers, running her thumbs lightly over his scarred palms. She raised his hands to her lips for a kiss, then turned for the door.

***

Excerpt from Hero Haters by Ken MacQueen. Copyright 2022 by Ken MacQueen. Reproduced with permission from Ken MacQueen. All rights reserved.

 

 

Author Bio:

Before turning to fiction, Ken MacQueen spent 15 years as Vancouver bureau chief for Maclean’s, Canada’s newsmagazine, winning multiple National Magazine Awards and nominations. He traveled the world writing features and breaking news for the magazine, and previously for two national news agencies. Naturally, he had to make Jake Ockham, his hero, a reporter, albeit a reluctant one. MacQueen also covered nine Olympic Games and drew Jake’s athletic prowess from tracking elite rowers in training and on podiums in Athens, Beijing and London. He and his wife divide their time between Vancouver, and British Columbia's Sunshine Coast.

Catch Up With Ken MacQueen:
KenMacQueen.com
Goodreads
Instagram - @kmqyvr
Twitter - @kmqyvr
Facebook - @kmqyvr

 

 

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Relaunch: The Broadway Series by Allie York - Reviews of Books 1 & 2

by Allie York
 
The Broadway Series is relaunching with new titles and gorgeous new covers! Allie York brings you five steamy, suspenseful romance reads with everything from single parents and secret admirers, to surprise babies and more – all in one heartwarming series.   I have reviews for the first two books today.  Come back later in the week for the final two.
 

Book One: 
 
Jovie
 
Between running a successful business and attempting to pen a best-selling novel, I don't have the time or energy for the kind or romance I love to write about.  So, I let it fall to the wayside.
 
The thing is, life has a funny way of delivering what you need when you least expect it. And trust me, I was not expecting a poodle to be the one delivering a sexy Brit into my world.
 
Ewan
 
A tragic accident left me with time for only one woman in my life - my little sister, Amelia. Raising a teenager is enough work without adding in the hassle that comes with relationships.
 
But when my disobedient dog, Clark, crashes into a sexy dog trainer and practically bows at her feet, the attraction is immediate.
 
The chemistry between us is hard to fight and Jovie fits comfortably in my life with Amelia.
 
It's all or nothing when someone else decides they want to change the game. Someone deadly, who has their sights set on what's mine.
 
 
Buy Now From Your Favorite Retailer!
Universal → https://books2read.com/u/3nXpjR
Amazon: https://www.amazon.com/dp/B0BMFQTW34
B&N: https://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/the-chance-alice-n-york/1141670605
Apple: https://books.apple.com/us/book/chance/id6443363143
Kobo: https://www.kobo.com/us/en/ebook/chance-116
 
My thoughts:

Chance is the first in the Broadway series.  I thought this one was really cute.  I loved watching Jovie and Ewan fall for each other.  I loved Ewan's relationship with his little sister.  It was just really a sweet romance.  I also enjoyed the little bit of mystery that was included in the story.  I definitely recommend this one.

Excerpt from Chance, book one in The Broadway Series
 
Copyright 2022 Allie York
 
We hadn’t even made it to the mailbox before the leash was pulled from my hand and the hard plastic was bouncing behind him as he bolted down the street. I growled a series of curses worthy of making a sailor blush and took off in a run after him, screaming his name. Once I caught him, his slow painful death was inevitable. I would kill him and relish every second of it. I lost sight of him as I rounded a corner and skidded to a halt, nearly tripping over a crack in the sidewalk. I spotted him as he ran full-force into someone walking their dog and panicked. It wouldn’t be the first person my idiot dog leveled on a walk.
I took off as fast as I could, yelling at him, only to find the woman holding his leash with a very pissed off expression. I let her place the leash in my hand, doubling over to catch my breath and being assaulted by my own stupid animal. Her sheepdog stood still by her side in statuesque annoyance. I apologized, asking if he had knocked her over, to which she responded with a curt, “No.” The woman held out a card. Fantastic. My horrid beast had run into a dog trainer. A very lovely dog trainer.
 

Book Two:

 Lydia
Raising Ollie alone hasn't been an easy task but there was no other option. Thirteen years ago, I let his father walk away - without knowing the truth.
I always thought it was for the best. Maintaining the secret about Ollie's true parentage seems like the right thing to do.
But a chance run in with Jacob stirs up all the emotions I thought I'd left in the past and sends my world crashing down around us.
I'm forced to come clean and share my son with a man I never thought I'd see again.
I didn't think we'd have forever...

Jacob
My life is nothing like I planned.
As if the death of my mother wasn't enough, I managed to lose my wife and the roof over my head in one fell swoop. But, my ex's infidelity isn't the end of the lies. Returning to my hometown brings a whole new set of obstacles, including a son I never knew I had.
While Lydia's world is tumbling, I'm realizing this could be my chance at the family I never knew I was missing.
Everything threatens to tear us apart.
I'm fighting for my family, while Lydia is battling her heart.
It's a vicious game of tug-of-war because life and emotions are never simple. But, we could have had forever, can I convince her we could have it again?
 
 
Buy Now From Your Favorite Retailer!
Universal → https://books2read.com/u/b5jQPA
Amazon: https://www.amazon.com/dp/B0BMFSPJMV
B&N: https://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/change-allie-york/1142160743
Apple: https://books.apple.com/us/book/change/id6443363258
Kobo: https://www.kobo.com/us/en/ebook/change-88
 
My thoughts:

 

Change is a second chance romance.  It also has the hidden baby trope that I'm not a fan of.  I didn't buy Lydia's reasoning for why she didn't track down Jacob.  Aside from that, the chemistry between the two of them was off the charts.  I did like their second chance and the ending was really sweet.  I do recommend this one.

About Allie York
I'm a mom, wife, and dog groomer by day. At night I write contemporary romance. I love funny dog videos, I read naughty books, and drink too much coffee.
 
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Blog Tour: Review of The Endgame by Biana Borell

 
THE ENDGAME is a gorgeous new contemporary sports romance, out now! Check out the gorgeous romance and be sure to get your copy today!
 

Title: The Endgame
Author: Bianca Borell
Genre: Sports Romance

  Order Your Copy!
Amazon | Universal | Bookbub | Goodreads

Every girl with a brother grows up with one fundamental rule: his best friend is off limits. That’s one rule she longs to break when he crashes into her life.

Amelie Weston has been taking the safe path for as long as she can remember. Not disappointing her parents by pursuing the career she wants. And not pursuing the guy she’s been crushing on.
But she’s tired of being the good girl.

Her brother’s best friend is pushing her to stop being a people pleaser and open the bakery of her dreams. Little does he know he’s also at the top of the list of her heart’s greatest desires... and he’s making himself impossible to resist.

Levi Kingston fully intends to become a legend on the field as one of the best players ever. He must stay focused and work relentlessly toward his goal. He doesn’t have time for distractions... until he meets his best friend’s sister, and his well-laid plan is challenged.

Bad timing, responsibilities, and loyalty to her brother keep them apart. But the connection between them only grows stronger. Their feelings become impossible to ignore, and the fight against them is pointless.

Will they take a chance on love? Or waste an opportunity for long-awaited happiness?
 
 My thoughts:

Endgame is a brother's best friend/ little sister romance.  I'll be up front, this one just wasn't for me.  It had a little too much angst for my taste.  I also was really uncomfortable with the heroine being 17 in the beginning of the book.   Yes, she is almost an adult, but I just really felt uncomfortable reading about a minor behaving that way she did with a guy in college. The rest of the story is fine.  So, give it a try.

 

 
About the Author:
Bianca Borell is a contemporary romance author, voracious reader, nature lover, and unapologetic daydreamer. She spends her nights deciding between getting up to write or trying to silence the voices of her characters. The battle is never-ending.
 
She has a weakness for tormented characters, second chances, and happy endings.
 
She currently lives in Germany with her amazing husband and indulges in way too many pastries than she should.
 
For updates, news, and releases, be sure to visit Bianca’s official website at www.biancaborell.com
 
Connect with the Author:
Website | Facebook | Instagram | Goodreads

Cover Reveal: This Pucking Ship by A.M. Williams

 

Join us for the cover reveal of This Pucking Ship, the final book in the Love at Sea Series. Keep reading for more details about this sexy, sports romance.
 

Title: This Pucking Ship
Author: A.M. Williams
Release Date: 12/12/2022
Genres: Contemporary Romance
Tropes: Sports Romance, Forced Proximity, Forbidden Romance
 
What started as a one-night stand has become an entire week stuck at sea. Can these two unlikely lovers figure things out or will one of them jump off this pucking ship?
 
Maureen
 
Taking a job working in the gym on a cruise ship seemed like a good plan, especially after being dumped and fired from my last job, thanks to my cheating ex.
 
What I wasn’t counting on was running into the hockey superstar I had a one-night stand with.
 
Now I’m stuck trying to avoid the chemistry between us despite his relentless pursuit before I find myself put out to sea.
 
I just need to survive this cruise with my head down and avoid the drama.
 
Dylan
 
Being a guest on a lover’s cruise wasn’t my idea of a dream vacation. 
 
But running into the woman I can’t get out of my head? Now, that’s a dream come true.
 
I swore I wasn’t interested in a relationship, but the sparks between us make it hard for me to resist. Except she’s more worried about protecting her job aboard the ship than me.
 
Maybe it’s for the best if we go our separate ways especially once we’re off this pucking ship.
 
But back on land a unique opportunity to help Maureen secure her dream job presents itself. I’ll stop at nothing to make it happen because as much as she needs this job, I need her and this position will give us both what we want.
 
This Pucking Ship is a sports romance with a slightly forbidden twist, part of the Love at Sea multi-author series. Get ready to set sail through the Caribbean on Festival Cruises’ most alluring voyage with eight of your favorite authors - happily ever after guaranteed!
Experience everything the Love at Sea series has to offer. From speed dating to masquerades, guests are sure to enjoy the hot days and steamy nights. Explore hidden waterfalls, swim with dolphins, and watch as eight couples find their forever on the open ocean.
 
Pre-Order on Amazon
Amazon → https://amzn.to/3e5v15u
 
Add to Goodreads Here!
Goodreads → https://bit.ly/3OB8NVF
 
About A.M. Williams

A.M. Williams is just a simple girl from the south that found herself living in Germany for six years, and now in Florida. When she’s not annoying her cat or reading, she’s spending time with her husband and planning trips to the beach, which is now only an hour away. She’s a total beach bum and would spend every day there if she could. She loves Cheerwine, sweet tea, and North Carolina (eastern style) BBQ as well as crisp, German white wine at any time of day.
 
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Spotlight: Excerpt from Unanimity by Alexandra Almeida

Unanimity
Alexandra Almeida
(Spiral Worlds, #1)
Publication date: October 18th 2022
Genres: Adult, Science Fiction

The road to hell is paved with good intentions.

The Series Story

Shadow is a reluctant god with a broken mind and a death wish. He used to be Thomas Astley-Byron, an affluent young screenwriter whose creativity and idealism saved a world from the brink of collapse. Together with Henry Nowak, an AI expert, Tom created heaven on earth by inventing a Jungian simulated reality that helps humans confront their dark sides. The benevolent manipulation platform turned the two unelected leaders into beloved gods, but now everything is failing. The worlds suffer as a sentimental Tom descends into his own personal hell, becoming the embodiment of everything he despises and a shadow of who he used to be.

His journey from optimistic, joyful Tom to a gloomy Shadow is paved with heartache and sinister interference from emerging technology. Humans and bots fight for his heart, but their aims differ: some want to own it, some to dissect it, and others to end its foolish beat. Estranged from the love of his life—the activist poet Nathan Storm—Tom fails to realize the biggest threat comes from within. None of the sticky stories that steer his life end well.

Now, a young goddess—Estelle Ngoie—has been appointed to replace him, and unlike Shadow, Stella takes no prisoners, and her heart bleeds for no one.

Who’s pulling on Shadow’s heartstrings? Are their intentions malign or benign? It’s all a matter of perspective, and Shadow has none left.

The Series Themes

An epic tale spanning across six days—one per book—and forty past decades of life lived across ten worlds and two universes.

Weaving hard sci-fi elements with social commentary and queer romantic suspense, Spiral Worlds explores the nature of consciousness and how it’s connected to a not-so-secret ingredient—story. As software consumes the world, intelligence is nothing but the appetizer; the human heart is the main course.

There is no black or white in this story about a contrast-making machine.

Goodreads / Amazon

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SNEAK PEEK:

Prologue

No one should live past hope, and he was ready to die. The girl screamed as he walked away, death struggling to cull so much life, and so her agony lingered, and so did her screams.

Another voice roared: the avenger he dragged away from the crime scene as she raged and kicked and screamed. Her wrath was his grail; its cost impossibly high.

Chapter 1 – Resurrection

PRESENT DAY — 24 JULY 2068
DAY 1 — 8 AM

Thump………thump, thump……thump, thump…thump, thump thump, thump thump. No! Nooo!

Stella brought the suicidal God back to life, and his complete lack of gratitude made her jaw clench and her neck hurt. Such a lack of respect! Shadow should be happy she’d fixed his mistakes. Instead, he paced around the dark digital void looking lost and devastated. So typical of the old heart.

His slumped head and shoulders failed to hide his natural gifts—all limbs, and height, and a strong, lean constitution supremely carved to embody graceful power. A grace that had ultimately hatched his fall from power.

Shadow’s affront affected her divine posture, and she needed to look her best, as she intended to seduce him right from the start. He was her trophy, and she was there to claim all of him, but the romantic fool believed in serendipity, so she had designed their first moments to be magical. She’d planned every conversation topic, ensuring it showed her best qualities, which was hard to do because there were so many good ones. But he wasn’t talking; he wasn’t doing much of anything. Such a waste of time–time she couldn’t spare.

Nothing about his current state was abnormal, but she’d expected death to have snapped him out of his never-ending misery. She’d hoped for a hug or at least a faint smile, but he wasn’t even making eye contact; if he did, he’d find out how beautiful she was, and then everything would change, she was sure of it. No one could resist the youthful glow of her deep dark skin or the nuanced curves of her athletic figure. Like all others, he’d fall captive to her beauty, and then he’d become a slave to her witty intelligence…of course. She shrugged, confident he’d soon come to his senses.

Pacing in front of her, Shadow struggled to breathe, each attempt shallow and fast. Raising the palms of his hands over his heart, he pressed his chest where his lover, Thorn, had shot him at close range. Then he held the medal he carried on a chain around his neck, a gift from the poet he called his soulmate, Nathan Storm. He closed his eyes, taking a deep breath, and for a moment, the panting stopped.

Stella stood straighter, dismissing her competition and the stiffness of her body. She’d also shower him with gifts as soon as she got a chance. Storm and Thorn were old news, broken creatures tainted by a terrible reputation. She was his match; a generous, vibrant heart and a Goddess.

“I… I’m alive?” he repeated in a broken voice for the fourth time in less than a minute. “Thorn… Where’s Thorn?”

“This is getting boring,” Stella said, flicking her long silver-white hair over her shoulder. Her kinky hair was twisted into impossibly fine braids, each one smooth and straight and as bright as the full moon. “We don’t have time for this.”

“Who are you?” he asked, gasping loudly. He stared down at his chest, probably looking for the missing wound. For him, time hadn’t passed; he’d just been shot in the heart, and it likely still hurt.

“Spiral Worlds’ Goddess—your replacement. The platform needed a working human heart with a strong beat and a will to live. I’m a considerably superior upgrade.” She cringed. Those weren’t the exact words she’d planned, but he was getting on her nerves and ruining the perfect moment. Look at me! You must look at me. Then he did, and nothing happened—no fireworks, no smiles, no awkward fidgeting, and most frustratingly, no hint of red touched the cheeks of the bashful God, famous for blushing from even the slightest attention set on him. She placed her hands on her hips. Are you kidding me?

“My replacement? Where’s Harry?”

Stella wasn’t looking forward to the next few hours. She could flood his mind with everything that had happened, but she was sure he wouldn’t be able to cope with the devastation his death had caused. Harry, the other God, was dead, but she had brought back Twist, his digital twin. She was good like that: super-proactive, and immensely generous. That’s what people said Up Above, in the real world. Earthlings liked her a lot, and her approval ratings had skyrocketed since she’d promised them eternal digital life.

She sighed. “You’d better sit down.”

Stella transformed the digital void into a coastal seascape, and they stood on a sandy beach facing each other. The sea breeze frolicked with his unruly dark hair, and he scratched the tip of his nose, tickled by a strand dancing in the wind. He’d feel at home there. Tom—Shadow’s biological twin—used to live by the sea. This place was supposed to be the setting for their first romantic moment, but he had to delay their unavoidable chemistry by immediately asking about his dead friend. Now she had to explain everything, and he wouldn’t take it well.

In an instant, she replaced her silver catsuit with a long, flowy, turquoise dress and sat on the sand with her legs crossed. She wasn’t a big fan of Holizien turquoise; other colors better suited her skin tone. Still, it represented the highest level of human values, for now… And that immediate association avoided her having to spell it out for him. After all, narcissistic self-praising was beneath her godly status.

“Come.” She tapped on the sand to her side, and he sat next to her, kicking his boots off and pulling his knees into his chest. “Before I start, I want you to know I brought them all back: Twist, Storm, and Thorn. They are xHumans now, like you. I did it two years ago when I first became a Goddess.”

“You…brought them back?” The worlds collapsed inside his hazel eyes, and she was caught in the magnetic pull of his sorrow.
She shook it off, grabbed his arm and squeezed it. “Wait… Just. Wait. As I said, I brought them back.”

“They…died?”

She’d forgotten how expressive he was. His eyes had no shield, and for a second, she got lost once again in all the drama unraveling within them. He held his breath, and she was sure his heart had stopped beating, waiting for her response.

“Yes…your ex-boyfriend, your lover and your best friend all died because of you.” There! I said it. It had to be said, so she did it quickly and got it over with.

He stared at her blankly, processing her words. His skin was coated by tears that caught the light as they gathered over his quivering upper lip. She wondered if he was going to shatter into a thousand ceramic pieces. He could be her negative: his skin so pale, and his hair so dark. She rolled her eyes. Here we go again! He’s such a cute, melodramatic God.

Shadow sat quietly, and his gaze drifted to the sea as he fiddled with his medal. Stella waited for him to speak, but as the minutes passed his tears dried up, and his eyes became empty and numb.

“Aren’t you curious about what happened? How they died?” She pulled on the sleeve of his white T-shirt, but he didn’t even blink. “Your ex killed your best friend.”

Shadow’s head collapsed between his knees as he hid it under his arms. “Stop! I beg you.”

“Anyway, to cut a long story short, the people you love suffered and died, all because you struggle with life. It’s all your fault.” He needed tough love. Everything else had failed, but maybe she’d gone too far… “Shadow, I brought them back. It’s okay.”

“To—to live in a hell of a digital world…” He spoke without lifting his head, still panting.

“No, some of our worlds are now better than Earth thirty-two years ago.”

“Thirty-two years?”

“Yeah, when you all died. Technically, you have lived thirty-two years, but you’re actually sixty-four now. Don’t worry. You’re looking damn fine.” She smiled, sliding her tongue across her lips. “I’ve brought you back, and I need your help to fix the worlds. Your designs aren’t working well, and the platform—Sibyl, to be precise—has become…temperamental. So frankly, I don’t have time for your grief or your moods. They cause problems, and we have work to do.”

For several painful hours, the stunning creature sat frozen beside her, staring at the sea. There was no way to soften the blow.
To move things along, Stella organized a bright rainbow and some flying kites to cheer him up. Colorful octopi soared through the air, breaking the laws of aerodynamics as they weren’t anchored to anything. He looked up, and a hint of life returned to his face. Good, good! She was in a hurry; Spiral Worlds’ problems threatened to damage her popularity Up Above.

“I need to see them,” he finally said.

“Aren’t you going to ask me about your worlds? How the eight experience layers evolved from one world? Why it’s failing?”

Thomas Astley-Byron and Harry Nowak had invented Down Below, a Jungian simulated reality that helped humans confront their dark sides. Better than their predecessors—stories, books or movies—digital experiences brought to life the effects of human activity, both intended and unintended. Down Below, now rebranded Spiral Worlds, enabled the travelers to experience the repercussions of infidelity, the devastation of climate change, the grief of loss, the dismay of failure, and the fallout of theft, rape and murder. Travelers jumped on this learning opportunity with the mindless freedom of those who know they will face no consequences. After returning to their ordinary lives, shaken and bruised by a deeper understanding of humanity, they became reformed criminals before ever committing any crimes. They changed into unblemished, responsible citizens, outstanding parents, loyal partners, overall good humans. Up Above was a better, safer place, full of joy, due to the contrast created by Spiral Worlds—a critical utility that was now falling apart…again.

“I need to see them. Please.”

“It’s complicated. They’ve been around for two years, and some are adjusting better than others. That they all hate each other isn’t…helpful.”

He finally focused on her: in his eyes, nothing but a sea of gloomy compassion. “What’s your name?”

She smiled. “Estelle Ngoie—Stella.”

He batted his long eyelashes at her, but not the way she’d hoped. “How old are you, Stella?” His strained voice was barely audible.

“Nineteen. I became a Goddess when I was seventeen.” She lifted her nose high.

“I’m proud of you, Stella.” He smiled with his eyes, and in them she saw affection—the sweet support of an older brother, not quite what she was expecting.

“Don’t—don’t patronize me. I don’t seek your approval.”

His lips returned a hint of amusement. She got up and circled him, flicking her hair to one side and letting the sunlight enhance her best features—her plump cheeks, the long neck, and a womanly figure many had told her was to die for. Of course, she didn’t want him dead—she’d just brought him back—but she wanted him to see her as a grownup woman and a peer. She needed him to find her as interesting, dangerous and sexy as Thorn, his deadly lover.

“Stella, I need to go now.”

She sighed. Why isn’t he focusing on me? Everyone falls for me. Everyone. They were meant for each other. She was sure of it. There was only one person in the worlds more beloved than her: him. Not for long…

She changed her strategy. From now on, I’ll be all business.

“We must talk about the upcoming war between our worlds. Spiral Worlds is collapsing, and your friend Thorn is leading the violent uprising of the soulless.”

To prevent Down Below’s creatures—all together called the Underlings—from suffering, Tom and Harry had deliberated that, as the worlds expanded, the lower, harsher worlds would be devoid of conscious beings, the soulless.

“Thorn is?” He didn’t seem surprised.

“Yes, I’m not sure why she has chosen to live in those hellish worlds, but she found a way to lead the heartless creatures. They were causing problems before; now, they are a violent, well-oiled machine destroying anything in their path, except Earthlings, of course. That’s against the directives.”

She waited for him to react. He didn’t.

She sighed and then shrugged. “Seriously! Do you understand you inadvertently created a race of psychopathic demons?”
“I see,” he said absentmindedly, and then he went quiet again. His lack of proactivity was driving her mad. He should be asking questions and jumping into action. Maybe she shouldn’t have told him about all the deaths so quickly. Did I break him? I broke him. Oh, dear…such a fragile God.

She pressed on. “Thorn is not the only one causing problems. Your beloved poet, Nathan Storm, is leading the soulful’s rebellion with his radical stories. His bots are demanding equal rights to the Earthlings. Can you imagine? The nerve.”
He almost curved his lips into a smile, but it vanished at the speed of light. “What does Harry say about all this?”

“He’s no longer Harry. He’s just Twist now. The other God doesn’t care about any of it. He just wants to see his family. Quite a self-serving God if you ask me.” She shook her head.

“Are they well, June and Quin?” Shadow asked, the skin around his eyes turning dark, as if they had sunk into his skull.
Stella nodded. “Yes, but it’s complicated. Thirty-two years is a very long time. In years lived, his son is now older than him.”

“He…didn’t see Quin grow… And can he? See them?” Tears returned to his eyes, and he massaged the scars on his wrists. Some were shallow reminders of attempts to cope with life, others deep and severe, marking the end of a life—his first. She wondered why those wounds hadn’t vanished with his two resurrections. Perhaps they were intrinsically linked to his soul, or maybe he wasn’t ready to let them go.

“Once you both died, his wife, June, lobbied to have Down Below shut down. She and Sibyl argued on opposite sides in a specially convened Senate inquiry. Sibyl won, of course, and June formed the Unplugged movement. In short, June, Quin and the hundreds of thousands of Earthlings who follow them aren’t online, and they’ve rejected Twist’s attempts to make contact.”

“Sibyl?” He summoned the worlds’ omnipresent operating system—their universe and connected consciousness.

“Yes, my heart. I’ve missed you.” Sibyl’s bodiless voice had the sweetness of honey.

Stella crossed her arms. “Hey. I’m the heart.”

“Don’t be jealous, my heart. You brought him back, remember?” Sibyl said.

“Be careful, Stella,” Shadow said. “Don’t just…trust her.”

“Not she or her, my heart,” Sibyl said. “Zie or zir.”

“I’m sorry, I didn’t know…” An authentic apology, followed by an order. “Sibyl, take me to see him. Now.”

His relationship with Sibyl differed from Stella’s. Unlike Stella, who still had a biological body Up Above, he was just code, an xHuman trapped within Sibyl’s universe, but he spoke to zir like he was completely in charge.

Stella had a hard time accepting that the two broken Gods had created Sibyl and Spiral Worlds. It was a tough act to follow, and there’s no way she’d be a lesser Goddess.

“Of course,” zie said, and he vanished from Stella’s side.

He could have at least thanked me, the ungrateful God.

My heart, Sibyl spoke directly to Stella’s mind, replying to her thoughts. Don’t get too attached to him. You know he is–

Deadly and soon dead? Stella replied. Yeah. Probably. But if he doesn’t snap out of it and into action, we’re all dead.

Have faith, Stella. The odds are not in our favor, but I learned from my old heart to believe in serendipity and magic.

Sibyl, Stella rolled her eyes, you create the magic and shape the future.

No, my heart. All creatures do, especially the Gods.

Stella sighed. Ugh! They are all so…broken and useless. And those odds…they’re horrific.

Sibyl continued, We’ll survive the war if you keep him alive long enough. Shadow may be the most important piece in this game of chess—the king—but you, my star, you’re the queen, the most powerful player on the board.

I’m the all-powerful queen: Stella, a star. She smiled. I’m beautiful and smart, and everybody loves me. Well…almost everybody… She’d been having some trouble with the xHumans—the humans she’d resurrected.

Sibyl giggled. I don’t know what will happen to me—a universe with two hearts. I can’t predict the outcome, and I’m finding the lack of understanding quite invigorating.

Sibyl, she said sweetly, that poet is making you sick and over-emotional. Don’t you prefer to be completely in control? I certainly do…
Sibyl’s voice broke a little. Zir tone projected a hint of deep emotion rarely displayed by the omniscient being. Anticipation is an exciting feeling, one I have never experienced before. I almost feel human, but…trust me…I’m not.

Oh, I know, Stella sang her words in her head. I know!

Author Bio:

Alexandra Almeida has over 25 years of experience in technology, strategy, and innovation. In her role as Chief Transformation Officer, she acts as a senior advisor to enterprise executives. Alexandra is an experienced speaker at events such as SXSW, Gartner Symposium, and the Women in Tech Series.

For the time being, and to protect her creative freedoms, Alexandra prefers to write using a number of pen names.

Her debut fantasy novel, released under another pen name, has received the following awards and recognition:

- Reader’s Favorite Awards - Gold Medal Winner - Young Adult - Fantasy - Epic

- Reader Views Awards - 1st Place - Fantasy

- CIPA EVVY Book Awards - 2nd Place - Fiction - Mythology

- B.R.A.G. Medallion Recipient

- Eric Hoffer’s Da Vinci Eye Awards Finalist for Best Cover Artwork

- The Wishing Shelf Book Awards Finalist - Books for Adults

- Awesome Indies Approved

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Review: Secluded Cabin Sleeps Six by Lisa Unger

Author: Lisa Under

Publisher: Park Row

Publication Date: November 2022

What could be more restful, more restorative, than a weekend getaway with family and friends? An isolated luxury cabin in the woods, complete with spectacular views, a hot tub and a personal chef. Hannah’s loving and generous tech-mogul brother found the listing online. The reviews are stellar. It’s his birthday gift to Hannah and includes their spouses and another couple. The six friends need this trip with good food, good company and lots of R & R, far from the chatter and pressures of modern life.

But the dreamy weekend is about to turn into a nightmare. A deadly storm is brewing. The rental host seems just a little too present. The personal chef reveals that their beautiful house has a spine-tingling history. And the friends have their own complicated past, with secrets that run blood deep. How well does Hannah know her brother, her own husband? Can she trust her best friend? And who is the new boyfriend, crashing their party? Meanwhile, someone is determined to ruin the weekend, looking to exact a payback for deeds long buried. Who is the stranger among them?

I was really looking forward to Secluded Cabin Sleeps Six.  I am a big fan of this author.  Sadly, I really did not like this book. I guess even favorite author have their duds once in a while.  The premise sounded great.  I love isolation - closed room thrillers.  This one involves a group of six friends who get away for a weekend in the woods. Great premise, but I just didn't get what I was hoping for.

One of my biggest issues is that they don't even get to the cabin until about halfway through the story.  I didn't get any creepy vibes once they got there.  We all know why they feel like they are being watched.  Because we are told who is doing the watching.  And it isn't really even that relevant to the overall story.  The first half of the book is boring.  I didn't care for any of the points of view.  None of the characters were remotely likable.  I wasn't really rooting for any of them.  The big reveal was disappointing.  I mean in theory, I guess it could happen.   It is a quick read, which is why I finished it.  But I don't really recommend it.

  

Blog Tour: Review & Excerpt from Kiss You Back by Mel Walker

 

by Mel Walker
 
Popular girl, Kennedy Myers made one mistake in high school – she chose the wrong boy. If only her nerdy friend, Elijah Stevenson would have told her how he felt, maybe things could have been different. Ten years later, the Spring Hills High School reunion gives them a chance to face their regrets. Will they get a second chance, or will it be just another missed connection? Readers who enjoy swoony reads will love Kiss You Back by Mel Walker, a second chance, friends-to-lovers, small town romance.
 
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Love Doesn’t Come with an Expiration Date

Kennedy Myers was the queen of Spring Hills High School: beauty pageant champ, head cheerleader, and the most popular girl in school. She only made one mistake—she said yes to the wrong boy.
Elijah Stevenson was the resident nerd at Spring Hills High. Convention said he should have never been friends with someone like Kennedy Myers. He hid in the shadows and avoided the spotlight, which was where she thrived. Not wanting to risk their friendship, Elijah watched as she ran off with the boy he knew wouldn't love her the way he did.
The Spring Hills Ten-Year High School reunion gives them both an opportunity to revisit the point in their life which they both hold with regret. Will the reunion allow them a second chance or will it be just another missed connection?
 

My thoughts:

I love second chance romances.  This one was no exception.  Kiss You Back is a sweet yet angsty second chance romance involving Elijah and Kennedy.  They were secret best friends in high school.  Now back at their 10 year reunion, and they are living completely different lives.  I did love this couple.  I loved the sneak peeks into their high school relationship. I wish I had a guy like that when I was in high school.  They were so right for each other.  Too bad Kennedy couldn't see it back then.  There was some angst in the story, but it wasn't overbearing.  I thought Kennedy had a lot of growth.  The ending was very sweet.    I would definitely recommend this one.  I'd love to see Lincoln and Jada each get their own stories.  

 
 
Excerpt

Copyright 2022 Mel Walker
 
I climb off the bike and begin to walk with it toward the edge of the water when movement to my right causes me to turn. It’s a person, and I nearly jump.
 
“Kennedy?”
 
He stares at me with a surprised look that must match mine. “Elijah? What…” I don’t complete the sentence. Words aren’t necessary. We both know why. My eyes scan over his shoulder to his rental car from this afternoon, backed into the woods and camouflaged by the trees. On the ground in front of it is a blanket, a bottle of beer, a half-eaten sandwich, and a book. Of course, a book. “I don’t want to disturb you…” I mutter, feeling like an intruder. There are a thousand hidden roads outside of town, but only one both Elijah and I claim, and I had to decide to visit this one the same night he returned to town. What could this mean?
 
He hops to his feet, striding toward me. He’s changed outfits, now sporting a comfortable aqua polo shirt and khaki shorts. He’s barefoot, his sandals placed to the side of the blanket. His hazel eyes lock on me, and I feel like I’m in a tractor beam of a spaceship, unable to move. He reaches me in three long strides, a look of determination in his body but vulnerability in his voice. “Please. Stay.”
 
I have no defense for his words. Before I take another breath, he slips his hands into mine and doesn’t move. He stares at me like I’m a dream—as if I’m a prize. No one has looked at me like that in years. Surely this close, he must see the broken pieces in front of him.
 
“I thought the sunset would be the most beautiful thing I hoped to see this evening.” He squeezes my hand slightly. “Once again, you’ve proven me wrong.” He leans in, and a woodsy and citrus scent from a recent shower fill my nostrils. His words are so different, so daring from the quiet boy years ago, yet the look remains the same. He’s finally able to enunciate the words he’s always held back from me.
 
I close my eyes and prepare, hoping he’ll reward me in our own special way. His warm lips land on the tip of my nose. “Kiss you.” His voice catches as the words stretch to fill the silence.
 
I sway on my heels, his gentle pull the only thing keeping me from falling. My eyes open, no longer surprised to find his gaze locked on me, examining me. This is no longer the boy who backs down, who walks away. His gaze lowers to my lips, which part with a soft exhale. We are too close for the shadows to hide him mouthing the words oh my god.
 
Help us both.
 
I’m not sure how exactly we fell into this deadly greeting, but nothing in the world gets my heart beating like this. Every single time. I feel like I’m on a tightrope walking a thin cable while a storm whips around us. Every single time, I expect to fall. Every single time I nearly do.
 
I end this torture by pressing my lips to the tip of his nose. I linger longer than I ever have before, only the burn in my calves causing me to lower. The bottom of my lower lip brushes against the top of his upper one. A spark races through my body, and another audible sigh escapes my mouth. “Kiss… you back.”
 
I avoid his gaze, landing on his Adam’s apple as he takes a long gulp. “Like minds,” he says and juts his chin toward his blanket. I follow him, our hands still intertwined as one.
 
Mason’s Trail was Elijah’s go-to spot back in high school. At least twice a week, he’d hide out here away from the world. The first time he brought me here was junior year. Getting to know Elijah is a process. It takes a long while to earn his trust and for him to lower his barriers, but once he does, you have a permanent place in his fortress.
 
We’ve only been here together maybe a dozen times in the final two years of high school, but I always think of this place as our place, not his, not mine.
 
“I was out for a ride, and the bike just turned down the road,” I say as we slip down to a large red-and-black plaid blanket. My visit to the women’s center is just another secret I keep from him.
 
He tilts his head in my direction, a sexy half smirk on his beautiful face. “Did you come for the sunset or me?”
 
  
About Mel Walker

Mel Walker has been writing fiction most of his adult life. Specializing in Short Stories and Contemporary fiction and Romance Novels. A native New Yorker and life-long frustrated NY Mets fan. He loves to write about ordinary people placed in difficult situations, especially as it relates to their closest relationships.
Mel Walker is a rare bird, the male romance author. Specializing in heartfelt small town romance, he enjoys telling compelling romances with all the feels. A native New Yorkers and life-long frustrated NY Mets fan, he enjoys long walks, bike rides and taking in the energy of the city.
 
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