Tag Archives: musician

New Release Blitz: Halfway to Someday by Layla Dorine

Halfway to Someday | Layla Dorine

Halfway to Someday Banner

Publisher: NineStar Press

Release Date: January 27, 2020

Heat Level: 2 – Fade to Black Sex

Pairing: Male/Male

Length: 110,300

Buy Links:

NineStar Press | Amazon

Smashwords

Barnes & Noble | Kobo

Add to Goodreads

HalfwaytoSomeday-500

Blurb

Rocker Jesse Winters just wants to be left alone. If he could melt into oblivion, he would and bid farewell to the wild child of rock n’ roll so many had dubbed him in recent months. Truth is there was never anything reckless, wild, or even deliberate about most of the things that had happened on Wild Child’s last tour, but had anyone cared to listen? No! Which was precisely why he was sitting in a cabin high up in the Colorado mountains, hoping the incoming blizzard would bury him forever.

Ryker Jorgensen left the VA hospital with a bunch of prescriptions and pamphlets on how to deal with reentering the civilian world, not that he’s in any hurry to do so. His nightmares still keep him up at night, and every new limitation he discovers gives him more reason to believe that he’s hopelessly useless now. Better to drive up to his cousin’s cabin and lick his wounds. Come spring, maybe, he’d look into being around people, if only for long enough to make the kind of money he’d need to buy his own secluded place.

The last thing Ryker ever expected to see was the man whose face had been plastered in his footlocker and his dreams for the better part of the past six years, but Jesse Winters is nothing like he imagined. When trying to leave Ryker out in the storm doesn’t work, Jesse resorts to ignoring him.

But two wounded souls trapped in a snowed in cabin have little choice but to reach out for one another when emotions get frayed. His only hope is that Jesse will trust him enough to let him drag him back from the edge before he’s just another burned out star in the legacy that is rock n’ roll.

Excerpt

Halfway to Someday
Layla Dorine © 2020
All Rights Reserved

Firelight flickered against the stone mantel of the fireplace, yet despite its warmth, Jesse shivered and huddled in the blankets he’d wrapped around his shoulders. The winds outside had picked up as the sun sank lower in the sky. Now, as the minutes ticked closer to sunset, they howled like the crowds in the stands at every show he’d ever played. Staring into tear-blurred flames, he wasn’t sure if he’d ever climb up on a stage again. His fingers itched to touch his guitar, but what was the point in creating anything with the way his bandmates had turned their backs on him.

“Way to go.”

The sarcasm in Tish’s voice was unmistakable. Whirling, Jesse turned to glare at her.

“You think I ruined the concert on purpose?”

“What are we supposed to think!” she spat, crowding into his space. Didn’t matter that she was shorter, she had a way of getting right in his face. “The way you played tonight was abysmal. The fans didn’t deserve that. We didn’t deserve to have you out there ruining the set like that. You let everyone down tonight, so instead of making excuses, why don’t you tell us what the hell you’re on so you can get the treatment you need!”

“I’m not on anything!” he roared; then Kyle and Griffin were there, crowding him back against the wall.

“You garbled half the words to songs you wrote!” Griffin shot back.

“Not to mention how many times you were off-key and singing in an entirely different pitch than you were supposed to!” Kyle rebuked, staring into his eyes. “Were you drunk up there? High? Are you high now?”

“It was a bad night, okay? Why the hell can’t you all leave it at that?”

“One night is a bad night,” Tish hissed. “Hell, even two nights out of an eight-month tour, but this was what, the eleventh, twelfth time you’ve fucked everything up?”

“Fourteen,” Griffin said. “You’re forgetting the show he had to cut short in Reno, and the one we had to cancel in San Diego when he called and said he couldn’t perform. Couldn’t even bother to come tell us to our faces, he was so strung out.”

“I. Don’t. Use,” he snarled, exhausted, throat hurting as they’d loomed over him like vultures ready to pick him apart.

“Then tell us what the fuck is going on!” Kyle snapped.

Jesse shook his head, defeated, as he stared up into the eyes of his oldest friend. “I-I can’t.”

“You mean you won’t!” Tish chided. “And you’ll drag all of us down with you as our band, our dream, fizzles and burns.”

“It’s not like that. That’s the last thing I want.”

“Could have fooled me,” she snapped, sidestepping him and walking away, leaving the others to follow her.

“I just need time to work a few things out,” he called after them, cringing at the burn in his throat any time he tried to get loud. None of them even so much as turned back to look at him.

Pain sliced through his insides like broken glass, and he cringed and curled inward, rocking in the hopes of easing the ache. It wasn’t fair—he’d never set out do anything that would hurt the band or their music, never meant to get up there and fail or worse, not make it up there at all. But he’d screwed up both his personal and his professional life in all the worst ways possible…well, all except the ways they’d thought. He wasn’t stupid. He’d never use any of the hard stuff; he knew what it could do to bands, and he didn’t drink to get drunk, despite how free-flowing the whiskey and liquor got. Pot was different; it came from the earth, and besides, he only smoked it in the states where it was already legal recreationally. It mellowed him out when his brain was racing a mile a minute, and sometimes, that hazy silence was the only way he could relax enough to sleep. They knew him; they knew how deeply he loved the music, how it was all he had aside from them, and yet…

Did he even have them anymore?

Not knowing the answer doubled his pain, leaving him desperate to make it stop shredding his insides. The wind screamed and he raised his head, stared out the window, and watched the trees wave like angry shadows across the sad, gray sky, before turning his attention back to the song he’d been struggling since morning to write. The half-filled page in the journal on his lap taunted him with all its unfilled lines.

Too soft. It wasn’t enough. It wasn’t anything but another feel-good fluff piece like the rest of the shit he’d been writing for the past year. With a growl, he ripped the page out, crumpled it, and tossed it into the flames. Orange licked around white, curling the edges, blackening them before devouring it completely.

Good riddance.

Glaring down at the previous song, he skimmed a couple lines, then yanked it from the journal and hurled it into the fire too. The sound of tearing paper brought some sick kind of satisfaction, so he ripped out several more and consigned them to the flames, leaving nothing but the darker pieces he’d penned earlier in the week. Now those words he could connect with.

“Holy shit, guys, do you know what this means?”

They all turned their attention toward Kyle, who was still bent over the contract on the table, rereading every line of the document they were preparing to sign.

“Yeah,” Griffin called out. “It means no more ramen-noodle stew and day-old Bolivian creams. We can finally buy the fresh ones instead of the stale fifty-nine cent kind.”

They all broke into laughter then, the energy level in the room so high everyone was vibrating with it. Tish moved to stand behind Kyle, hugging him and rereading the contract over his shoulder.

“Means we beat the odds,” Tish said, her voice trembling with awe. “We really did it. We got a record deal.”

“Hell yeah, we did!” Jesse laughed, high-fiving Griffin, who caught him by the wrist, yanked him into a headlock, and proceeded to muss up his hair, which turned into a wrestling match that Jesse had no chance of winning. He’d resorted to tickling Griffin instead, their drummer writhing on the carpet as Tish decided to get in on the action and tickle him too. Of course, that had led to Kyle tickling her and all of them eventually collapsing into a laughing pile beside the couch.

Now, as he poured all his angst and rage onto the page, he found it impossible to remember when they’d last laughed together. Back in the studio, maybe, when they’d recorded their last album before the tour? He tried to think back that far, tried to temper the darkness of the would-be song with thin tendrils of lightness and hope, but the only images he could conjure in his mind were angry ones. Bitter accusations hurled at him the way he was hurling sarcasm and ire at the page, dotting it all with a heavy dose of scorn and a metric fuckton of guilt.

Snarling, he scrawled a few more words in the journal then tossed it aside, kicked a blanket off to the side, and squirmed around until his back was against the couch and his fingers were beside his pillows. For several moments, he caressed one of the soft, fluffy pillows before jamming his hand underneath, fingers fumbling below the plush overstuffed feathers, brushing against the coolness of the blade he kept tucked there. He curled his fingers around it, pulled it from its hiding spot, and let the firelight glint off the sharpened steel, the sparkle mesmerizing him for a moment. The flashing red-and-orange hues reminded him of strobe lights. He ran the blade up the back of his hand and arm, watching the tiny lines of blood well up and drip over the scars. Old white lines, angry red raised ones, an endless pattern that disappeared beneath his sleeve. If the photographers ever saw, they’d have a field day selling those shots to every music magazine they could find, which was why he never went sleeveless on stage. Here though, in the solitude of this borrowed cabin, he’d left his scars uncovered, if only to make it easier to carve in more.

Turning his hand over, Jesse pressed the blade against his wrist, traced the sharp edge along his flesh, but didn’t part it. Not this time. It was so tempting though. Maybe later when he dreamed of all his failures and woke up crying again.

How long he sat that way he’d never know, firm grip pressing the knife to his arm, body poised for action, muscles tense, beginning to ache from being held on edge so long. The voices in his ear warred, screamed, raged, one telling him to do it, the other pleading with him to think. All he wanted was the shame to stop and the heavy pressure in his chest to ease up enough to let him breathe.

The wind raged, and he longed to go out in it, throw his head back, and howl until his voice was shot. It wasn’t fair. He’d been scared and sick and struggling with what to do, choking on feelings of inadequacy and rage, a whirlwind of words in his head, and yet he hadn’t been able to string them together. Each time he’d attempted to stammer out something, they’d hit him with another accusation; if anything, that had hurt more than what Troy had done.

His fingers shook, so he pressed the knife deeper into his arm, trying to still the shaking. Pain shot up the back of his neck, throbbing in his temples and behind his eyes, his body coiled so hard it hurt.

There was no one left to believe in him, so why keep fighting? His band was the only family he’d had since his folks died. Without them, why keep playing? Why write another song? Why even bother to live another day? It would be so easy to give in, become another statistic. There was no one to stop him, no one to find the body until spring, and by then it wouldn’t matter—they’d have already replaced him anyway.

Taking a deep breath, he let it out slowly, the vicious voice in his head telling him to get it over with.

Meet the Author

Layla Dorine lives among the sprawling prairies of Midwestern America, in a house with more cats than people. She loves hiking, fishing, swimming, martial arts, camping out, photography, cooking, and dabbling with several artistic mediums. In addition, she loves to travel and visit museums, historic, and haunted places.

Layla got hooked on writing as a child, starting with poetry and then branching out, and she hasn’t stopped writing since. Hard times, troubled times, the lives of her characters are never easy, but then what life is? The story is in the struggle, the journey, the triumphs and the falls.

She writes about artists, musicians, loners, drifters, dreamers, hippies, bikers, truckers, hunters and all the other folks that she’s met and fallen in love with over the years. Sometimes she writes urban romance and sometimes its aliens crash landing near a roadside bar. When she isn’t writing, or wandering somewhere outdoors, she can often be found curled up with a good book and a kitty on her lap.

Website | Facebook | Twitter | Pinterest

Giveaway

a Rafflecopter giveaway

IndiGo Badge

Halfway to Someday Now Available

Blog Tour: Second Song by Edie Danford

Second Song | Edie Danford

Sugarhouse Blues Series

Picture_20191018_205811849.jpg

MM Contemporary Romance

Release Date: 07.10.19

Cover Designer: Natasha Snow

Buy Link:

https://www.amazon.com/dp/B07Y982YV6

SecondSong-cover.jpg

Blurb

A wounded singer’s second act. A bodyguard’s redemption. Two grieving souls find healing in love’s sweetest song.

Sage

Four years ago, a brutal attack shot down my soaring music career. My bodyguard, a man I loved like a brother, was killed, and serious injuries left my voice permanently damaged.

Songs silenced, I retreated to my Vermont home, unsure I’d ever perform again.

Now I’m ready to go public with my new act. But, yeah, I’m a little nervous. So to handle security for a trial-run tour, I’m hiring a guy I trust absolutely—Antonio Callan, my former bodyguard’s brother.

But when Antonio shows up, all super-chill fierceness and warm, understanding eyes, I’m up against an unexpected risk—losing my heart.

Antonio

Touring backwoods bars with a reclusive singer is the wrong gig at the wrong time. But how can I refuse the wounded kid my brother thought of as family?

After a week in Vermont, I’m feeling more helpless than heroic.

Sage has grown up, and I’m crazy-attracted to him. His broken-but-beautiful voice knocks me out, and his quiet courage sings to my soul. The more time we spend in close quarters, the harder it becomes to resist our attraction.

Soon, Sage’s second act is rocketing to the top of the charts, and being his hero takes on a whole new meaning. It’s up to me to take his cue and find the courage to reach for a star.

Second Song is the first in the two-book Sugarhouse Blues series and can be read as a stand-alone. Contains angsty-hot pining (and Vermont pines), first-time lovin’, sappy songs (and Vermont maples), and the healing power of loooooove.

Second Song promo teaser 1 (1).png

Excerpt

 

“This Chicago weather might send you back to Cali real quick.” I gesture toward the windows and the sleet-rain coming down.

Sage smiles slowly as he glances from the window to me. That addictive guitar lick plays in my head again. “This amount of snow and ice does not impress. But you—all hot-bodyguard official in a suit…” He gives me a greedy-hungry look, like maybe I’m one of those maple creamees he loves to slurp. “I’m very impressed.”

“Likewise.” I smile back, my gaze traveling over his features. He’s the sunny beach come to visit. Skin tanned gold, eyes ocean blue, and damn, that smile heats me all the way through.

He looks down at his tea, then he takes a breath and meets my eyes. “So I came to Chicago to take you on a date. That is, if you say yes when I ask you.”

I gently ease against the chair’s back. And then I loosen my tie because breathing has become a genuine hardship. “Sage. Damn.”

“Just…let that sit for a while. I’m too chicken to actually ask you at the moment.”

I make a sound that’s half-laugh, half-curse, and I wonder what I’ll say when I can speak.

I am beyond flattered he’s come all this way to ask me out. I’d be the biggest dick in the world if I refused. I don’t want to refuse. Excluding life-and-death and world-peace scenarios, I want Sage more than I’ve ever wanted anything, ever. But what would happen if I said yes?

Lots of shit has happened in the last couple months, but I don’t think our personal circumstances or our feelings have changed. I’d still be incapable of a casual hookup with Sage Hazen, still incapable of following him where Second Song takes him.

And as for him…

Well, he is not looking casual. Two sunset-colored spots mark the center of his cheeks. His hands are shaking. He stands, walks to the fireplace, and picks up the guitar. His left hand fumbles the tuning pegs. His right hand makes sweaty-squeaky sounds on the shiny wood.

He goes to one of the windows, turning his back to me as he tries to tune and strum. He’s skinnier than he was two months ago; his stupidly sexy skinny jeans don’t cling as tightly as they’re supposed to. Closing my eyes, I pinch the bridge of my nose and try to take steady breaths.

“Working on something new,” he says.

“Yeah?” I look up at him.

He turns to face me. “It’s sexy,” he says, waggling his eyebrows, making an effort and succeeding.

I laugh. “Everything you do is sexy.”

“Uh, no. It’s not.”

“It is. And you have about forty million fans who’d agree with me.”

“Forty million fans don’t know me, Antonio.” His expression turns serious.

“No,” I agree. “They don’t.”

I’m lucky enough to know him, though. And that’s really the point of this meeting, isn’t it?

About The Author

Edie Danford logo.png

Edie lives in Vermont with her husband, two sons, and random creatures that might or might not be pets.

She loves libraries (where she’s found play, work, and love since she was a kid), long walks (unless ice is involved), lewd language (in the right context), luscious romance (of any variety), and alliteration.

Social Media

Website: http://www.ediedanford.com

Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/edie.danford

Twitter: https://twitter.com/ediedanford

Pinterest: https://pinterest.com/ediedanford

MichelleSlagan---VibrantPromotionsLogo---FiveStarDesigns---150ppi

Second Song promo teaser 2.png

New Release Blitz: Starting From Scratch by Lane Hayes

Starting From Scratch | Lane Hayes

Starting From #2

Starting From Scratch Blitz Banner.png

Release Date: October 17, 2019

Heat Level: 4 – Lots of Sex

Length: 80k

Buy Link: Amazon

Add to Goodreads

Starting from Scratch Cover

Blurb

Charlie Rourke is an ultra-fabulous human whirlwind on a mission to launch the next biggest band in the world. However, he might have taken on more than he could handle when he signed on to manage Zero.

Promoting a rock band and finding gigs shouldn’t be hard. They’re a talented group with a ton of star power. If Charlie can find the right record label, he’s sure he can help them get to the next level. The only problem is the skater boy slash bassist with a quirky sense of humor. He’s annoying and silly, and he’s exactly Charlie’s type. Except he’s straight.

Ky Baldwin isn’t afraid to switch things up. He loves a challenge as much as anyone, but Charlie doesn’t make things easy. Zero’s manager is a force of nature with a razor sharp tongue, a quick wit, and a no-nonsense attitude. Ky can’t stop thinking about him. Winning over Charlie becomes Ky’s pet project.

But when the ice between them thaws, neither is prepared for the intensity of going from enemies to lovers. They’ll have to decide if they’re willing to start from scratch and take a chance on the unexpected.

Excerpt

“I know that was random, but it’s not a bad idea if you think about it. Want something to drink?” Charlie asked as he moved toward the kitchen.

I grabbed his wrist before he got anywhere. “Hang on. What are you doing?”

He cocked his head curiously but didn’t pull away. “I’m being practical. If you read any further about Virgos you probably found out we’re known for being sensible. And polite. So, I’m politely asking if you’d like a beverage while sensibly suggesting that I help out with your skating lessons.”

“Okay. First up…I don’t want a fuckin’ snack and second, it’s not a skating lesson. We’re skateboarding,” I said, glowering at him.

“I’ve heard it said both ways. Skating, skateboarding. I looked it up in Urban Dictionary too, so I’m pretty sure I’m right.”

“No. There’s something in your tone that makes it all wrong. Like you’re purposely trying to sabotage this.”

Charlie opened his mouth in a perfect O. “Gasp! I wouldn’t do that!”

“Cut the crap. You’re doing it now. You don’t want to learn, and you don’t want Oliver to either. It’s a control thing. But you can’t control what you don’t fuckin’ get. So take a seat and let me teach him without you freaking out or—why are you looking at me like that?”

“Like what?”

“I don’t know. You’re doing something weird with your eyes, though. You look spaced out.”

“Mmm. I’m trying not to swoon. You look so fierce and you’re holding my hand, Ky. You should feel my heart. It’s beating out of my chest. Seriously.” He fluttered his lashes a few times and bit his bottom lip.

I chuckled softly and stepped closer. “Are you flirting with me, Char?”

“No, it’s the other way around. You’re flirting with me. Big macho displays really get my motor running. Medium-sized ones do too. I love it when…”

Okay, so I lost myself. I tuned out the sound of his voice and concentrated on him. The mischievous glint in his eyes, the proud set of his shoulders, and the way his mouth curled at the corner. He was doing it again. Owning the moment. Taking it over. Charlie looked for weakness in any form, then slyly made adjustments before moving in for the kill. No doubt he thought I’d back down fast and run away. I wasn’t going anywhere.

I fixated on his bottom lip and inched closer. He kept talking…something about dick size or muscles…I wasn’t sure, but I liked the cadence of his voice. The teasing lilt and easy humor. I let go of his wrist, brushing his fingers before setting my hand on his hip. He went perfectly still.

Before he could ask me what the fuck I was doing, I kissed him.

It was more of a press of lips than a grand gesture. And though it might not rank as the kind of kiss that would change the world, I immediately knew it would change mine.

Everything in me went on high alert. I’d never been so in tune with a moment. The flutter of his eyelashes, the brush of his nose, and the soft sweetness of his lips against mine. Fuck, it was amazing. Like mind-blowing amazing. He tasted like cherries and smelled like sunshine mixed with something exotic.

I couldn’t be sure over the roar of my heart attempting to beat its way out of my chest, but I thought he hummed in approval, so I angled my head slightly to deepen the connection and pulled him closer. If he was anyone else, I probably would have stuck my tongue between his lips and let my hands roam all over his body. I wanted to, but I didn’t want to scare either of us. So I stayed where I was until the need for oxygen became an issue.

Then I jumped back two feet and stared at him with my eyes bugged out. “Holy fuck.”

Charlie set his fingers on his bottom lip and blinked like he was coming out of a daze. “You kissed me,” he said softly.

About the Author

Lane Hayes is grateful to finally be doing what she loves best. Writing full-time! It’s no secret Lane loves a good romance novel.

An avid reader from an early age, she has always been drawn to well-told love story with beautifully written characters. These days she prefers the leading roles to both be men. Lane discovered the M/M genre a few years ago and was instantly hooked.

Her debut novel was a 2013 Rainbow Award finalist and subsequent books have received Honorable Mentions, and won First Prize in the 2016 and 2017 Rainbow Awards. She loves red wine, chocolate and travel (in no particular order). Lane lives in Southern California with her amazing husband in a newly empty nest.

Website | Facebook | Twitter | Goodreads | Instagram

Giveaway

a Rafflecopter giveaway

Blog Button 2

Starting From Series.png

« Older Entries Recent Entries »