I've been working on a rewrite of a novel so it fits a publisher's guidelines. There have been new chapters written, others completely rewritten with the same plot lines, and other still that have only needed light edits. I've been enjoying the process although I'm not sure yet how strong the story is with all the changes.
I have one plot line with a separate character point of view to layer in, another new chapter to write and then I'll be done. After that I'll have to read it through to make sure it all fits together the way I've done it, and edit that. It's getting closer to being finished - always an exciting time.
I thought you'd enjoy another short excerpt from it. This one didn't need much editing to make it fit. It's from another character's point of view from last time, but gives a nice view of the countryside.
The breath huffed out of Rim’s lungs as he stood on the rise and surveyed the city below them. They’d made it. After being on the surface a long, hellish ten days they were finally at Channing. They were lucky to get there alive. His men gathered around him like early morning campfire smoke.
Except they stank more. Every one of them had worn the same clothes for two weeks without break. Every shirt was stretched and torn and stained with the dust and detritus of harsh surface living. Boots were scuffed and chins ragged with unshaven growth. Rim grinned. He knew he smelled and looked as bad, minus the beard he never grew.
No one would assume he was the leader of the Analee Valley and the Protector of the Fifth Line. The Imperials would be more likely to think he was an Exile breaking into the city, but they’d made it.
Together they looked down on the field below them. Spaced a man’s height apart, silver-domed grates sparkled like scattered diamonds in the verdant grass as the early morning sunlight peeped over the hills in the east. Thin streams of steam wafted through the raised grates covering each vent and hung in the still air, the only outward sign a huge city was below ground. Most of the openings were for ventilation but every fifteenth one opened to one of the many corridors running through the underground city.
They needed to find one closest to the centre of the city, where the royal apartments were. He sobered. The danger wasn’t past yet. It was impossible to drop into the heavily-patrolled upper-echelons of Channing without triggering alarms but there was no time to follow protocol. He needed to see the King and couldn’t wait for court appearances to be scheduled.
Zar-be-willing they’d get the help they needed, and then they’d have to make the whole terrifying journey back again or lose everything.
“The sun is rising, Rim. We need to get to shelter.” Spook said beside him.
Sunrise. Just the thought had sweat dribbling down Rim’s back. He gazed at the grates that led to the city, attempting to count the grids. He glanced at the lightening sky, noting the position of the crescent moons before they sank beneath the horizon, one hanging below the other like a twisted comma. Time was running out. If they didn’t get help soon it would be too late.
An eerie screech split the chill air, echoing across the sparkling plain. The hair rose on the back of Rim’s neck as a rolling metallic clang travelled towards them, the rise and fall of the locking grates chased by fine ribbons of black that darkened the eastern sky. His heart pounded as, row by row, the grilles closed, cutting off the thin trail of steam, the clang echoing and blending with the cry of the Norrgel. In the eastern sky, more black threads lifted over the horizon. Hell, they were too late. The wings were upon them.
“Wings are up,” came the terrified whisper behind him. The sweat on Rim’s skin chilled and his breath caught in his throat as panic clawed his chest. They’d all grown up under the shadow of the wings, had seen what they could do but two weeks travelling in the open and the loss of three friends had brought new images to their nightmares.
They tumbled down the slope to the city. Rim ran west, searching for an access point. He slid to his knees next to a grille sitting higher than the others. It was an entrance, not a vent, and they didn’t have time to find another closer to the centre of the city.
“Here,” he called to his companions and scrambled for the catch at the edge of the grille. Other hands joined, dragging the heavy grate up from the hole.
“Down. Now.” Rim looked at the sky, darkening with the progress of the black threads flapping ever closer, even though he knew they were too far away for him to see them clearly. The clanging of the grids grew closer, echoing the thudding of his heart.
One after another his team dropped into the hole while Rim held the grille up. “Drop straight down. Watch your shoulders.” He kept an eye on the eastern sky, swallowing the bile that ebbed and flowed with each row of grates clanging closed, and watched the wings grow as they chased the ringing noise. As they moved closer, the wings became discernible as thin long-beaked birds. They were so close now he could see the threads hanging from the trailing edge of the wings and the tail. They swirled and fluttered with every rise and fall. Rim swallowed thickly, forcing his hands to remain steady as he held the grille open. His dreams still echoed with the screams of friends caught in those threads.
The last man dropped through and Rim swung his legs into the hole just as the grates in the next row locked closed. The grille lifted from prone to vertical and Rim shifted his grip from the edge to the centre, sliding fully into the hole and releasing his hold on it just as it slammed closed. The vents slid into place, sealing the underground city from the world above.
Air flapped the legs of his pants and whistled past his ears as he fell, his shoulders and elbows bumping against the smooth wall of the shaft, his hands flailing uselessly above his head. The floor hit him hard, buckling his knees, twisting his ankle and rolling him heavily onto his side. The breath rushed from him and his head thumped into the ground. He brought his arms in close, flexing his bruised fingers in an effort to gain control of his winded body.
“Come on, Rim. We need to move.” Rough hands hauled him to his feet. He stumbled a few steps then sucked in the pain from his ankle. It wasn’t bad. A few dozen steps and he wouldn’t feel it at all. He turned and loped south along the corridor.
“Spook, take point. Charl, tail end.” By the time he’d positioned himself midway with his men, everyone was in place.
The corridors in this section of the city were at right angles from all others and painted a dark charcoal. They were in the outer reaches. “Double guard,” he murmured, his quiet voice carrying in the silence of the deserted hall. If they were going to have trouble, it would be here where the misfits and unemployed lived. Three of his men moved silently, taking position to protect him from attack. Spook ranged further ahead but maintained visual contact.
The men moved in concert. Spook signaled ‘clear’, half the group moved forward while the rest covered against attack, then they moved under cover of the first group. It was a routine so well practiced none of them needed to think of it but Rim still mentally reviewed his men.
They traversed three corridors, seeing no one else, hearing nothing, then Spook stopped and signaled for silence. Everyone froze, Charl backwards as he watched for anyone from behind. Spook’s fingers stretched out behind his thigh, counting hostiles. Four. There was nowhere to retreat to; nowhere to hide their presence. They’d have to take them down and move on. Spook’s fingers counted down to contact. Three. Two. One.
Book Names: His Enemy’s Son and Catfish Love Water
Release Dates: His Enemy’s Son – July 10, 2015, Catfish Love Water – July 17, 2015
His Enemy’s Son
What would you do if you were a young oil mogul who had been crossed by your business counterpart, a man who then stopped returning your calls? Not knowing what else to do after every action he has taken failed, Luke Garrett decides to kidnap his business partner's son to gain the man's attention to their shared problem.
Alex is celebrating his eighteenth birthday by getting drunk with his best friend--and studiously avoiding the debutantes his father tries to throw his way--when he finds himself the houseguest of a rather unconventional abductor. How can this plan possibly go right?
Catfish Love Water
When his tutor suggested he pick a favorite book to get more motivated to learn to read, Axel chose a gay romance novel. He ended up taking the book everywhere he went, reading it slowly yet repeatedly until he could recite entire lines. Then his tutor resigned and a new one came to replace her. Richard is doing research on dyslexia for his next book by tutoring Axel, but can he remain an impartial observer? Will working with such an attractive man be possible for Axel? Moreover, can Richard keep his secrets under wraps?
His Enemy's Son
"Hey!" they cried out.
"I'm going home with my friend. Let me go!" Alex shouted.
It was no use. Men in black surrounded him from every angle. He couldn't see Seth anywhere.
"Quiet!" the first man barked. "Take Mr. Parker away. Go. Now!"
Am I being kidnapped? Alex's muddled mind slowly understood the situation as he tried to yank his arms free. He grunted when two men squeezed his upper arms tightly; their fingers bit into his skin when they pulled him away.
"Alex! You let him go, you bastards!"
Alex looked over his shoulder as he was dragged into a black van. The men had grabbed Seth and held him down on the ground.
"No." His head was spinning. "Don't hurt him. It's me you want. Let him go."
"We're not going to hurt anyone as long as you obey." The man growled.
Suddenly Alex felt a prick at the back of his neck. He cried out in pain.
"Wh-what are you doing?" He tried to reach back but he couldn't. His knees buckled, darkness gripped him, and suddenly he didn't know any more.
Catfish Love Water
"What're you reading?"
"Oh, this." Axel's face turned scarlet. He made a failed attempt to cover the title and cover of the book with his hand. Richard hid his smile and pretended not to know what was going on.
"What's it about?" he asked, hoping Axel was too flustered to see through his innocent act.
Axel shrugged. "Nothing special."
Richard almost grinned at the "Nothing special" but he kept his face straight.
"Care to tell me more?"
"Well," Axel started, eyes fixed to the table. "It's about a millionaire's son whose life is in danger and his father pays a bodyguard to keep an eye on him. They eventually fall for each other as they—"
"This bodyguard—is it a girl?"
For the second time, Axel blushed. "N-no. It's also a man." Axel stared at Richard as if challenging him to say something sour about it. "That a problem for you?"
Richard arched an eyebrow. If Axel only knew.
"What? No, not at all. In fact, finding out you like reading that kind of story makes me really happy." Richard captured Axel's gaze and they exchanged a long, searching look.
"Huh," Axel said quietly as he turned away.
His Enemy’s Son
Fireborn Publishing: http://firebornpublishing.com/store/index.php?main_page=product_bookx_info&products_id=113
Amazon US: http://www.amazon.com/His-Enemys-Son-Iyana-Jenna-ebook/dp/B010XYBRU4
Amazon UK: http://www.amazon.co.uk/His-Enemys-Son-Iyana-Jenna-ebook/dp/B010XYBRU4
Amazon Canada: http://www.amazon.ca/His-Enemys-Son-Iyana-Jenna-ebook/dp/B010XYBRU4
Amazon Australia: http://www.amazon.com.au/His-Enemys-Son-Iyana-Jenna-ebook/dp/B010XYBRU4
All Romance Ebooks: https://www.allromanceebooks.com/product-hisenemy039sson-1844327-149.html
Barnes & Noble: http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/his-enemys-son-iyana-jenna/1122278661?ean=2940151141789
Catfish Love Water
Fireborn Publishing: http://firebornpublishing.com/store/index.php?main_page=product_bookx_info&cPath=5&products_id=127
Amazon US: http://www.amazon.com/Catfish-Love-Water-Iyana-Jenna-ebook/dp/B011ULO1LQ
Amazon UK: http://www.amazon.co.uk/Catfish-Love-Water-Iyana-Jenna-ebook/dp/B011ULO1LQ
Amazon Canada: http://www.amazon.ca/Catfish-Love-Water-Iyana-Jenna-ebook/dp/B011ULO1LQ
Amazon Australia: http://www.amazon.com.au/Catfish-Love-Water-Iyana-Jenna-ebook/dp/B011ULO1LQ
All Romance Ebooks: https://www.allromanceebooks.com/product-catfishlovewater-1854281-149.html
About the author:
Reading, watching movies, and being unable to find exactly the thing she wanted to read have led Iyana to write her own stories, mostly about man-on-man romance that has fascinated her since as early as the Starsky and Hutch era. Teaching and writing English course books during the day, Iyana spends her nights mostly dreaming of love stories between two men who are protective toward each other.
Where to find the author:
Facebook Author Page: https://www.facebook.com/books.by.iyanajenna
Goodreads Link: https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/6996391.Iyana_Jenna
Publisher: Fireborn Publishing
Cover Artist: Brenna Lyons
Tour Stops: July 24, 2015
Parker Williams, Havan Fellows, The Hat Party, Charley Descoteaux, Bayou Book Junkie, BFD Book Blog, Happily Ever Chapter, Scattered Thoughts & Rogue Words, EE Montgomery, Divine Magazine, MM Good Book Reviews, Fangirl Moments and My Two Cents. Inked Rainbow Reads, Prism Book Alliance, Velvet Panic, Ogitchida Book Blog
Today's all about Kayla Bashe's new book:
Release Date: July 22, 2015
Katriona Sparrow, dubbed the Mad Heiress by London's upper class, is the deceptively fragile ward of a foreign nobleman. She can't stand making small talk with strangers, but she's unparalleled when it comes to deciphering the dead.
On a routine investigation, something goes horribly wrong, leaving Katriona catatonic in an upscale hospital and a serial killer with an artistic bent stalking London's most vulnerable.
Enter Anthea Garlant, a young witch and academic ostracized from polite society for traveling the world without a chaperone. She devises magical treatments to protect Katriona from the side effects of her abilities, but as she grows more and more attached to Katriona, her professional façade begins to slip.
Will they be able to stop the man who turns beautiful dead women into works of art before he turns his attention much closer to home?
Previously published through Kindle Unlimited.
Pages or Words: 84 pages, 33,700 words
Alternate Universe, Bisexual, Crime Fiction, Fantasy, Historical, Lesbian Romance, Romance
She was so beautiful that she looked as if she was only sleeping, but clearly she'd cried tears of blood. She was dressed in clothing that appeared expensive but was cheaply made; a poor girl wanting only for a day to live beyond her means. From far away, she seemed to wear pearls and sapphires. Up close, the pearls were her teeth, and the sapphires were her plucked-out eyes. And the golden sash around the waist of her plum-colored taffeta gown? It was made of hair. She also wore a heart-shaped locket, clearly her own. Although tarnished somewhat, and made of much cheaper material, it was of a similar design to Anthea's, provoking an odd frisson of familiarity. Whatever our profession, whatever our station in life, we're all women, Katriona mused as she crouched beside the corpse. And if one of us is in danger… then we all are.
"The gloves are made from his previous victim's skin, by the way," pointed out a constable. "At least, they're the same color."
The girl's mouth had been filled with dirt; the sort of unremarkable dirt that could have come from anywhere in London. Some of it was smeared across her chin. In her lap, she held another girl's head.
"Salome and the head of John the Baptist." That came from Anthea, who was tilting her head at the scene.
"Sorry, what?" Inspector Claybrook looked up from the body.
"The sash, the gown… if you look at the pose and jewelry alone, it's an exact replica of one of the paintings in the Louvre." Before anyone asked her how she knew that, she added "When I'm in Paris, I go there often to clear my mind."
"This is his art," Katriona murmured thoughtfully. This woman would offer her another piece of the puzzle, she was sure of it.
"I'll hold your gloves for you," Anthea said in an undertone.
Katriona removed them and held them out with an almost imperceptible nod. Anthea transferred them to her reticule.
There were still other people around, but for all intents and purposes, it had become just Katriona and the corpse. This small, powerful figure was radiating something inexplicable—still delicate, but somehow frightening. Her eyes were so blue that they could drown a man.
She touched the decapitated head first. I had a dog. I had a dog. Who will feed my dog?
"I'm sorry, but that's all I can get. She's been dead for days. She's well-preserved, but I can't read her. I suspect it's from the same woman we found the other day, but…" If I died, she thought, I'd be so afraid for Sentinel. She felt closer than ever to this dead girl, the one whose name she did not know.
"At least it was only a whore," a constable murmured behind her. Instantly Katriona wanted to tear off his head and eat him whole.
Men! They visit prostitutes, yet they look down on them. None of these girls deserve to be told "Your friend is dead" by an uncaring and contemptuous man.
Katriona made an impulsive decision. She crouched further over the corpse, using her body to shield her movements, and ripped the heart locket from her neck, tugging until the cheap chain broke. Surreptitiously, she dropped it into her white kid boot. Next, she ran her hands through the woman's curly dark hair. Her voice changed, becoming noticeably less cultured; now there was a rich warmth to it and a Cockney accent.
"I'm really excited because I'm getting paid extra to spend the night with a man where he lives instead of where I live. Maybe I can pocket something good on the way out. He's real handsome. Smooth hands, long fingers... so then I said, do you want a brush, then? And he said, he said, 'Have a drink'. He offers me… something. Dunno what it is, never had it before, but I'm excited. When I wake up, I'm—"
Katriona wavered, but held her grip on the memories. She would follow this to the end.
"—I can smell earth. 'Run, little rabbit,' he says. 'Run away from the hunter's horn.' But I'm not running; it's too dark. Blacker than night. Rather die than be in the dark, than lose my way in the dark down in the earth. I fight like a tiger. I try to scratch his face but he grabs my wrists and—God, he's strong! Kick him in the jewels and he moves out of the way—too damn fast, too damn fast—where'd he go? Hands around my neck—squeezing the life out of me—I can't breathe! Please don't kill me. Please, no, no, no… Now I'm afraid but I'm angry, and I hold his gaze until my eyes roll back. He told me I made a mistake, I deserved to die because he couldn't have imagined the girl he loved saying such dirty things.
"'You're too wildly sexual.' That's what he said. And he beat me where the bruises wouldn't show. I fought like a tiger; tell them I fought. Salome with her head in her hand and her mouth full of dirt—this is his art!"
All at once, Katriona's aura of power seemed to startle back inside her skin. Her eyes opened. She lurched backward, wide-eyed and pale. Anthea was at her side at once, and Katriona held onto her for stability.
"Are you going to be all right?" Anthea's voice was as low and mesmerizing as ever—as beautiful as a hypnotist's—and Katriona followed the sound of it as it led her out of her fear. She buried her head in Anthea's neck, taking in the twin fragrances of jasmine and bergamot. Anthea made her feel like the best and strongest version of herself, a little less neurotic and a little more rational. She thought she wanted Anthea around for the rest of her life.
A flash of thought: If she holds onto me any longer, people will think we're betrothed. Did it come from Anthea or from her? She couldn't quite care, couldn't tell. Reluctantly, because Katriona knew what it was like when people held onto her too tightly or for too long, she let go.
Anthea repeated the question. "Are you going to be all right?"
"Yes." Now that you're here.
Sales Links: http://www.torquerebooks.com/index.php?main_page=product_info&cPath=200&products_id=4435
About the author:
Kayla Bashe is a literature/theater student at Sarah Lawrence College. She has previously self-published several novels, and her story A Muse Afire was featured in the first issue of Vitality Magazine. Her passions include Shakespeare, feral cats, and answering “If you want more diversity, write it yourself!” with a variety of snark.
Where to find the author:
Facebook: Kayla Bashe
Goodreads Link: https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/22051626-graveyard-sparrow?ac=1
Publisher: Torquere Press
Cover Artist: BSClay
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I'm currently rewriting large segments of a book I love to make it fit a publisher's requirements. The story line is good but I need to make two secondary characters the major characters, so a lot of things have to be rewritten in another person's point of view with their goals, motivations and conflicts coming to the fore.
It's an interesting process. There are some scenes that are working much better from the different point of view, but others are weaker. I might change them back to the original way later, if the story can tolerate it.
Throughout the process, I'm changing descriptions as well, because these characters see things and interpret them differently than the other characters do. I'm enjoying looking at the landscape in a different way and working out how these characters will see it.
The whole time I'm writing, I have in my head a lesson I learned reading a romance book years ago. It was a 'classic' kind of romance where the man was dominant and the woman definitely not. That in itself irritated me, but not enough to stop reading. The book did end up being thrown at the wall and never touched again other than to throw it out--all because of one phrase.
He laid her down in a fragrant bed of bougainvillea.
Yep, a classic romance. Pretty flowers, nice fragrances, people romantically rolling around in the petals. There were only a couple of problems:
Long after I've forgotten the title or author of that book, I keep that scenario in my head. It helps me with my descriptions, and making sure I do enough research so I don't make the same stupid mistakes.
Below is an extract of the story I've been writing. (Bear in mind it hasn't been edited.) I'd love people to pick out any stupid descriptive errors I've made. That way I can fix them before I submit to a publisher.
The breeze dropped as the sun peeped between the mountain peaks. A shiver ran across Checa’s shoulders and, with a thought, he thickened the fur at his ruff. To the north, the line of trees that followed the river were dry and brittle, more than half of them already dead. Even this high up, he was sure he could smell the rot that had taken over the valley. If they didn’t find the cause and fix it, the entire valley would be dead in another couple of years.
He wracked his brains, but could think of only one instance in the histories such a catastrophe had been mentioned. He closed his eyes and, deep in his soul, he felt the two moons moving inexorably closer. Another sign. Then there was his eyes, but there was one born every generation, so just because he had silver eyes, it didn’t mean it was time for the Warrior Pledge to be invoked. If was probably all a myth anyway. No matter what he wanted to believe, he wasn’t the Silver Shining from Rock that would save the world and become a hero.
In the ravine below a flock of birds took flight. Checa shook his head and huffed in irritation. Even with fifteen years training behind him, Heath could never move anywhere quietly.
His name carried in the still air and an involuntary smile overtook him at the joy he could hear in Heath’s voice. His muscles twitched, wanting to move, to go down and meet Heath, see the morning light grow as it reached his features. Just that one sight would be enough to make his day complete, even if it hadn’t yet begun.
He counted his breaths to ensure he remained in his place, sitting cross-legged on the platform. There had been an unusual vibration in the air during the night, an unsteadiness in his land, and he had to determine what it was. His people depended on him to keep them safe.
Heath was closer now, the sound of him crashing through the brush a rhythmic counterpoint to his steady footfalls on the leaf-strewn ground. Checa allowed his posture to relax and straightened his legs. He shifted forward so his balance would be stronger, wiped the new smile from his face, and waited.
Heath burst into the clearing like a new spring bloom, ran to the platform and launched himself at Checa. Checa braced his legs against the edge of the platform, opened his arms and caught the younger man as he flew to him. They landed flat on the platform, the bare skin of their chests fusing, Heath’s sweat soaking into Checa’s chest hair and becoming his own. Checa oomphed as his head hit the stone, and Heath’s landing knocked the air from his lungs, but he didn’t release his hold. Some days, this was all he had. This was the best of everything he had.
He wrapped his arms around Heath more securely.
“Sorry,” whispered Heath as he snuggled his head under Checa’s collar bone.
Checa ran his fingers through Heath’s long, tangled hair, relishing the touch of smooth skin at the back of his neck. “You’ve been running,” he said as he loosened another knot. He lifted the now smooth strand and released it. It fell like a waterfall of gold and bronze, copper and chocolate, in the strengthening light.
“I had to.” Heath pressed his lips against Checa’s chest and inhaled before relaxing in a boneless heap. “It’s faster.”
“And you just had to race up here to snuggle?”
Heath nodded, then chuckled. “That’s a great side benefit.”
“So what had you in such a tearing rush?” Checa continued his gentle smoothing of Heath’s hair, not in any hurry to break the contact he craved, but Heath bounced up to sit squarely over Checa’s groin. He groaned at the change in pressure and punched his hips up. Their loin cloths prevented direct contact, but every ridge and bulge pressed against Checa and raised his interest.
Heath grinned at him. “Yeah, that too, but you’ve got to hear this. It’s happening, Checa! It’s finally happening.” Heath bounced in his excitement.
Checa grabbed his hips and lifted him off, ignoring the pouting scowl he got in return. Once they were both seated on the platform, dawn washing its gentle light over them and the soft breeze returned, he raised an eyebrow and waited.
“Stop it,” said Heath as he slapped Checa’s arm. “I’m not some test animal. You don’t have to experiment to see how long I stay silent.”
“Clearly not long.”
I remember a time when I was extremely well organised with my tax submissions. I kept diaries and notebooks and spreadsheets. Every piece of paper was clipped to all other relevant pieces of paper. I visited the accountant and had my refund back by the end of August.
Then it stretched to September. The end of September used to be the deadline with the Australian Tax Office. Now I think it's October. Unless you go through an accountant, then it's March.
Can you see where this is going?
I didn't submit a tax return for three years. It was scary. I was constantly waiting for a letter telling me I was being fined for non-submission, but the fear wasn't enough to make me get it done. I still kept all the documents, now stuffed into a large envelope.
When I finally submitted the forms, the refund for the three years was both surprising and very pleasing. A built a new bathroom and did a few other things around the house, and still had money left over. I swore I wasn't going to leave it that long again, though. It was too nerve wracking.
So, what did I do? You got it. Left it another three years. What made me do it in the end? I started having nightmares that the house would burn down one day while I was at work and I'd lose all my proof of expenditure. This time, I didn't have as many deductions so the refund wasn't quite as large, but it was still good. I put solar power on the house.
That brings us to this year. It's July. Tax Time. My accountant has sent me a friendly reminder. I'm guessing she doesn't want the nightmare I presented her with last year. Still, I was procrastinating.
Right up until this morning.
That's when my cousin arrived and said "You have to do your tax before you can write". So we did. He called out numbers, I filled in all the spreadsheets, and everything is now in order, neatly labelled, ready for the accountant to do her thing. On Monday, I'll ring and make the appointment.
It's such a relief to know it's done.
Now all I have to do is decide what to do with this return. I do need a new stove (cooktop and oven)... I want to build some garden beds in the back yard... we need a new carport... and I'm going on a cruise at the end of the year so I'll need spending money...
I suspect the list of things to do with it is going to outstrip all possibilities very quickly. I haven't been to the accountant yet and will have several weeks after lodgement so there's time to decide.
"Choosing to be happy when life sucks has shaped who I am. Laugh at the ridiculousness of life and keep moving forward." - C.C. Dado
Today, C.C. Dado is visiting and sharing with us a new scene that shows Nathan in a very uncomfortable situation.
Nathan Harris ends up somewhere least expected because of decisions he's made or event that happen around him:
Nathan finds himself completely out of his element at his new neighbors bachelor party.
“Okay, baby,” Josh said, pulling Brandon out of the chair. “Let’s let someone else get in on the fun.” Brandon looked like he was going to pout.
Nathan felt someone pulling on his arm, and suddenly he was pushed into the chair.
He pushed his glasses back up his nose and stared at the beautiful man unbuttoning the fly of his jeans one button at a time. As the music pumped, so did his body. Nathan couldn’t see anyone at the party anymore. It was like tunnel vision. The stripper was all Nathan could see and everything around him was blurry, like they were alone as he circled Nathan. He moved to the other guests, getting more money shoved at him. Sharon even licked his chest as he went by, but he never broke eye contact with Nathan, like Nathan was his prey. The music slowed, making Nathan shiver as he drank in the sight of the stripper making his way back to the chair.
Suddenly he leaned down and literally ripped his jeans right off like they weren’t even sewn together, leaving him in only a pair of zebra-striped boxer briefs. When the stripper got back to the chair, the tempo started to pick up again. His eyes locked on Nathan’s. He seemed a bit indecisive and missed a beat, then slowly straddled Nathan’s leg, continuing to move to the music.
Everything seemed to be in slow motion as Nathan looked up past his hips to lean, sculpted abs and chest, and met a pair of smoldering brown eyes. As the stripper continued to grind on Nathan, the tempo of the music changed. Nathan had never been this close to a half-naked man, nor had he ever had a man gyrate on him. As the rhythm built, so did Nathan’s breathing, right along with the tension in their gaze."
Series: The Seattle Chronicles
Book: Two (can be read as a standalone)
Release Date: July 1, 2015
When recent college graduate Nathan Harris makes a life-changing move out from under his mother's thumb and into his own place, he is determined to take some risks. He is tired of not being good enough, tired of allowing his fears to control him.
What he thought would be an exciting adventure ends up being one jaw-dropping mishap of embarrassment after another, leaving him with a life he doesn't even recognize anymore.
His once boring, lonely existence has been replaced by a brownstone filled with colorful friends, a rough around the edges, tattooed bad boy best friend, and a stripper for a boyfriend who's not even sure he’s gay. Pages or Words: 22,810 words
Ding…. He heard his phone go off again as he was grabbing an orange from the fridge. Nathan set the orange on the counter and pulled his phone out of his pocket.
Maybe I’m jumping the gun here. What are you into?
Nathan wasn’t quite sure how to answer that. He leaned back against the kitchen counter and stared at the keypad for a second before responding. Guys?
Ding…. I’m literally shaking my head at you right now….
Ding…. Josh instantly followed up his last text. I meant what turns you on about a guy. Eyes? A nice ass? I need to know what I’m working with here.
Nathan felt like the entire world could see his words as he typed his response. I think men’s feet are sexy.
Ding… Josh responded, apparently not fazed at all by Nathan’s answer. All right then, let’s start at the toes and work our way up.
About the author:
I write painfully awkward, usually embarrassing, romance because long confident gazes followed by sexy dancing never happens to me.
I am a native of the Pacific Northwest, and will probably never leave since I’m a hypochondriac sundae, with claustrophobic sprinkles, and a cherry of anxiety on top. I read and write to relax my mind and I love getting lost in someone else’s story, even if it is only for a little while.
Goodreads Link: http://www.goodreads.com/author/show/8069566.C_C_Dado
Publisher: Dreamspinner Press
Cover Artist: Dreamspinner Press
E E Montgomery
About writing, life, and random thoughts.
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