Friday, 7 September 2018

Pulling Strings by Riley Long #youngspades #giveaway #chapter1 #bookreview


Title: Pulling Strings
Series: Young Spades #1
Author: Riley Long
Genre: NA M/M Romance
Release Date: September 5, 2018 



Aristotle “Ari” Dineen, Jr. thinks he doesn't deserve love. Ari has bipolar disorder and parents who don't understand his challenges. Falling in love isn't on the playlist for a guy like him, someone running from his past and so uncertain about his future.
Shane Beckett doesn't have time for things like love. He's busy - giving music lessons, finishing his senior year, and oh yeah, he's the lead singer of up and coming indie rock band, Young Spades.
A cup of beer, a music history class, and a pack of cigarettes changes everything. 
As Ari and Shane are about to find out, despite having a lack of time or the confidence to believe they can make it work, love has a way of pulling them in and rocking their worlds. 


 



 

CHAPTER ONE

Ari played with the brown pillow in his lap, sliding his thumb over the tag before giving the zipper a tug. He sighed.

“What do you think?” his therapist, Hannah, a short woman with a mane of black curls, asked.

Ari snapped to attention. “I, uh, I don’t know.” He rubbed the back of his neck. Truth be told, he hadn’t really been paying attention.

“I think it would be good for you,” she said, pointedly, 

It took him a minute to mentally track back to what Hannah was talking about, but eventually he called it up. Ari nodded. “Fine. I’ll do it. But I don’t want to.” 

“We know that isolating yourself make the thoughts worse. Go out. Make friends. You just might have a good time.” 

Mentally, Ari was rolling his eyes. “I hear what you’re saying. I’ll go, I’m just  saying I don’t have to like it.”

“You’re right, you don’t.” 

“I’m not even out to my parents yet. What’s the point of trying to date?” 

“You don’t have to be out to your parents until you’re ready. And as we’ve discussed, new experiences can be healthy. Let me know how it goes.” She stood and went to her appointment book. “When would you like to come back?” 

Ari pulled out his phone and made an appointment with her for the following week. 

“Have a great time, Ari,” she said as she walked him out. “See you soon.”

Ari plodded back to his dorm, the gray Colorado sky matching his mood. He hated living in the dorms, and felt like practically the only junior doing so, but at least he had Liam. His roommate was great, much to Ari’s relief. He’d had a string of shitty ones, too, especially before being diagnosed. And now that he was getting himself stable—mostly—it was nice to have someone he could trust. 
When he made it to their shared room, Ari found Liam sprawled on his bed, reading. His shoulder-length blond hair was pulled back into a ponytail, and he was wearing flannel, as usual. Liam had slipped out of the room that morning before Ari was conscious, so they hadn’t seen one another all day.

“What up, Lee?” Ari asked as he entered. 

Liam rolled onto his back. “Aristotle! How’s it going?” Liam was the only person other than Ari’s parents who could get away with calling him Aristotle without getting their ass kicked. And with a name like his, Ari had plenty of experience in ass kickings, both receiving and giving.

“Good. Just got back from therapy. Apparently I’m going with you tonight.” 
Liam sat up suddenly, closing his book. “Hell yeah, you are!” 

“So, what do I need to know about this thing?” 

Liam grinned, rubbing a hand along the stubble on his square jaw. “Nothing, my man. It’s a party. Wear clothes. Drink beer. Make friends. If you’re lucky, hook up with someone.”

“Yeah, I’m sure it’ll just be crawling with guys to hook up with.” 

Liam shrugged. “The Kappas are a pretty open minded frat. They have a few gay brothers. You never know. Plus, there’s always Shane.” 
The blush flooded his face almost instantly. Shane. Tall, thin, with tousled dark hair, soft brown eyes, and perpetually tanned skin, Shane definitely was what Ari was looking for. He may have been the subject of a few fantasies, even. When he’d found out Shane was gay, the fantasies intensified, not that Ari would ever actually do anything about it. 

Shane and Liam had been in a band together for a couple of years, and Ari had the pleasure of meeting him when he came to collect Liam for practice. Shane had also done homework with Liam a couple of times in the cramped dorm room, and Ari had a habit of excusing himself when they did. He was afraid he’d say something stupid and miserable and embarrass the shit out of himself. 

So yeah, Shane.

Ari cleared his throat and licked his dry lips. “Shane’s going to be there?” 

“Damn right. The whole band is. Shane, Ellie, even Trick.” 

Trick was Liam’s nickname for Patrick, the fourth and newest member of their band. He played … something. Ari wasn’t sure what, exactly, because he’d never bothered going to a show, despite Liam’s repeated invites. 
“Trick, too, huh? I didn’t think this would really be his scene.” 

Liam laughed. “No, not really, but we managed to pry him away from the art studio for the night.” 

“Sounds good.” 

“What do you say we play a little before we head out?” Liam held up a video game controller.

Ari glanced at his phone. They had hours before they needed to leave, and it wasn’t like there was much else to do. He’d already unpacked his meager belongings the day before, there was no homework, and his volunteer shifts at the crisis center didn’t start until next week. Spring semester was barely underway.

“Sure.” They’d be able to pass the time blowing up virtual adversaries and hoarding gold. He let himself get lost in the game, not thinking about his stupid therapist or the stupid party or Shane being there. He didn’t want to think about anything, just for a while.

#

Shane strummed his guitar absentmindedly. 

“Shane, get your ass ready,” Ellie called from the bathroom. 

He sat the instrument on the dark blue blanket covering his bed and ambled into his tiny apartment bathroom. Ellie’s round face was close to the mirror as she carefully attempted to get what she called ‘the perfect cat-eye.’ He wasn’t entirely sure what the perfect cat-eye looked like, but whatever. He couldn’t believe she hadn’t poked her eye out with that thing yet.

“I am ready. It’s you who’s taking forever.”

Ellie snorted and eyed him in the mirror. “You’re wearing that?” 

Shane shrugged. “What’s wrong with what I’m wearing?” 

“Dude, you look like a TA or something. You don’t need a button down to go to a frat party. Go put on a t-shirt. That black one looks good on you.”

“Which black one?” 

“The plain black one. V-neck. You wore it the other day.” 

“Fine, fine.” Shane headed back into the bedroom, yanking his shirt off over his head. For two years, he’d known Ellie, and for two years, she’d been giving him shit. He rifled through a pile of clothes until he found the aforementioned black v-neck and sniffed it. It smelled clean, so he tugged it on. 

Ellie emerged from the bathroom, head held high in triumph. “How’s this look?” 

“Um, you’ve got swoopy things?” He gestured towards the corners of his own eyes. “It looks good, El. You know I don’t know shit about makeup.”

“Yeah, yeah,” she said, holding up a stick of something in her right hand. “Now come here, let me make you look pretty.” 

“Wait, what?”

“Guyliner,” she said, closing in on him.

“What? No.” He swatted her away, but she was relentless. 

“Yes. You’ll look hot. Sit.”

He sat, sighing. “Fine.” He had a habit of giving in to Ellie. It was a good thing, really. They’d only known each other since the end of freshman year, but became fast friends bonding over shared interests in music theory class. They had created Young Spades together, and it would be nothing without Ellie’s driving force behind the drums. The band was the sanity-saving force he’d needed and without it, he didn’t know how he would have made it through the past few years, despite Ellie’s militant, unforgiving style when it came to running the band. “Okay, look up,” she murmured as she approached his eye with the pencil. “Thanks for coming to this thing with me,” she said, placing her free hand on his cheek. “No problem.” “I think it’ll be good for you, y’know? To get out of the house. No, don’t look away.”

“I get out of the house.” He went to class, gave music lessons to middle schoolers, and was in the band.

“No, you know what I mean. You need to get out more. Be social. Have a life.” 

Shane pulled his head away from her hands, eyes narrowed. “I have a life.” 

“That’s not what I meant. A social life. Aside from the band. You need to date.” 

“And I’m going to find a lot of gay guys at a frat party?” He relinquished control of his head back to her, and she went to work on his other eye.

Well you’re not going to find any gay guys giving music lessons to children.” “Good point.” 
Ellie straightened, appraising her work. “Perfect. You look totally hot. If I didn’t know better, I’d hit on you myself.” 

Shane pushed himself off the bed and headed to the bathroom to take a peek. He glanced in the mirror, surprised by how much bigger and more open his eyes looked. And, sure, if asked, he would probably agree that he did look pretty hot. From the other room, Ellie’s phone chirped. 

“Okay,” she called out. “It’s eleven. Let’s get going. ”

Ugh. It was so late. Luckily, the semester didn’t start for a few days, so he’d have time to recover, but seriously, who in their right minds went to a party at almost midnight?

“Now don’t rub your eyes or you’ll look like a raccoon, okay?”

Shane nodded and made his way to the bed. He picked up his guitar again and returned it to the case. He tried to mentally brace himself for this party. He wasn’t much of a partier, but he couldn’t convince Ellie otherwise. She was determined to get him out more. She claimed, with this being their senior year, he needed to think about more than just the band and graduating, and had spent the entire fall semester attempting to get him to come to more parties. Finally, he’d caved, so here he was, wearing eyeliner and a black v-neck and wondering whether he’d be better off sleeping so he could get up early and work on the song he’d been writing. Nothing ventured, nothing gained, he figured, so he’d decided to just go with it. Besides, maybe he’d meet someone hot, blow off a little steam, and be more focused when he did get back to writing. After all, it had been a very long time since he’d slept with anyone. 

“Ready,” he said.

“Great! Liam’s already there.” Ellie grabbed her phone and tucked it into the pocket of her skintight jeans. She led the way out of Shane’s bedroom, through the living room, and onto the third-floor landing, which he could easily see from his bed with both doors open. He picked up his own phone and followed close behind. 

 


 

Riley Long is a wife and mother living a quiet life in Virginia, with her husband, son, and very silly Pit Bull puppy. She passes her evenings writing, reading, and watching bad television (or not so bad television). For fun, Riley participates in NaNoWriMo, GISH, and reads with her book club, the BAMFs. She likes things with silly acronyms. The craziest thing Riley has ever done involves lots of butter and a time lapsed video.


 


 
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Source: eARC for Honest Review Courtesy of Enticing Journey Book Promotions
Genre: MM NA romance
Part 1 of a new series


My Pulling Strings  Review . . .

MM is one of my favorite genres so whenever I see a good synopsis and that it is MM I normally jump at the opportunity to review.  With Pulling Strings,  I loved the idea of the story.  Not enough, do we tackle mental health issues, so I loved the fact that the story was based on bipolar disorder.

Now after reading the story.  Things that I liked was it was a very quick read and a cute story.  Plus there was some good information on mental health. 

Ari is trying to survive with bipolar and being gay.  Shane is comfortable in his own skin but trying to find balance with school, work and his band.  Both weren't wanting a relationship but circumstances led them in that direction anyways.    Thankfully Shane has some knowledge of mental health which makes it easier to love Ari and all that comes with bipolar disorder.  

However, because it was a quick read, it also meant the story moved to quickly at times that you didn't get to feel the depth of Shane and Ari.  This made it hard to connect to their trials and tribulations. 

In the end I liked the story but didn't love it.  But.... I'm curious enough to continue with the series or read more from this author. 

3 Cute but left me wanting a bit more thumbs up!

thumbs upthumbs upthumbs up

Lauren














Cover Re-reveal ON DUBLIN STREET e-book #Chapter1




On Dublin Street by Samantha Young
Chapter 1 – from Braden’s POV


Sighing, Braden shrugged his shoulders back and looked up at the sky, squinting against the sunlight. Decked out in a three-piece suit on a hot day like this didn’t ease his growing frustration with his plan to sell La Cour. No one knew he was thinking of selling La Cour except Thomas Prendergast, a fellow restaurateur. A successful one. If any of his business associates knew Braden was selling La Cour they’d think he was nuts. The restaurant had a world-class chef and a stellar reputation. And it made money.
In truth, Braden was just stretched too thin and not interested in La Cour. All his concentration and focus was going into making his nightclub Fire a success, developing properties that turned profits, and of course he still had his father’s estate agency to keep up with, as well as a successful Scottish seasonal restaurant he co-owned with the chef, Frazier Allie, down on the Shore.
La Cour as it stood was a nuisance, a nuisance Braden felt obligated to attend to since his father worked so hard to make it the success it was. But his father had always told him that when business became a nuisance rather than a challenge, and was no longer satisfying, it was time to move on to greener pastures.
Thomas was dragging his feet with an answer.
He glanced back at the restaurant. Come on, Thomas, make up your mind, man.
Braden’s phone beeped in his pocket. He pulled it out and glanced at the digital reminder informing him he had a meeting in twenty minutes with one of his managers at Douglas Carmichael & Co, the estate agency his grandfather built up from the ground up to become one of the primary agencies in the Lothians.
Shit. He’d spent longer with Thomas Prendergast than he’d meant to. Scowling, Braden walked toward Bruntsfield Church, his pale blue eyes trained on the road ahead, willing a cab to make an appearance. Only seconds later one turned around the corner and he stepped out onto the curb with his arm raised. To his relief the taxi pulled up to him. He’d make his meeting.
Reaching for the handle on the passenger side, a clean, fruity smell drifted towards him seconds before a warm, small and very feminine hand collided with his.
Braden dipped his head and looked down into the face of a woman, her skin bright from the sunlight, her eyes narrowed to slits as she squinted against the sun behind his head. There was a surprised disgruntlement in her expression. Clearly she assumed this was her black cab. Braden prepared to disabuse her of the notion but stopped. His father taught him that reading people, and by that he meant all the things they didn’t say with their mouths but did with their bodies and eyes, was the key to success in business. Braden read stubbornness in her features he could make out and in the obstinate tension she held in her shoulders. He was in no mood for stubbornness or fighting over a bloody cab after his meeting with Thomas had come to no satisfactory conclusion.
For the sake of expedience Braden asked, “Which way are you headed?”
He heard the words ‘Dublin Street’ and did what he always did: maneuvered things to his liking. “Good.” He pulled the cab door open. “I’m heading in that direction, and since I’m already running late, might I suggest we share the taxi instead of wasting ten minutes deciding who needs it more.” He placed a hand on the small of her back and nudged her into the cab.
Relieved she didn’t stall them, Braden got in after her and immediately gave the cab driver their first destination. His sister, Ellie, lived on Dublin Street in a flat he’d renovated and then gifted to her. Ellie was his half-sister—they shared the same father. She’d never had it particularly easy from their dad. That was putting it politely. Douglas Carmichael was a negligent bastard and despite the fact that he and Braden had finally become friends of a sort before he died, Braden had never forgiven him for his treatment of Ellie. The guilt Douglas should have felt transferred to Braden, and he’d done everything he could to make sure her life was easier, and that she knew he cared. Giving her the flat meant she could concentrate on that PhD she was studying for. Braden might think the PhD impractical, but it made her happy, and in the end that was all that mattered. He also liked having her close to the estate agency which was on Dundas Street. Anytime he was in the area, which was more often than not, he could drop by to see Els. Braden was lucky to call Ellie not only his sister, but one of his closest friends, and it was nice to escape the stress of his business life at least for ten minutes when he stopped by for a coffee with her.
Braden decided he’d get the cab driver to stop at the top of Dublin Street, burl around and come back toward Dundas Street. It would be easier to drop him off first but it was ingrained in him to never let a woman pay for anything, so he’d drop off the unexpected passenger so he could pay the fare.
“Thanks I guess,” the woman answered from his left, the words sardonic. It wasn’t the tone that drew his attention. It was the husky, sexy voice and the American accent.
Glancing in interest at her, Braden almost did a double take. She was attractive. Very. So busy checking her out he asked somewhat stupidly, “You’re an American?”
She turned to him and as soon as their eyes met Braden felt his blood heat with the impact. Jesus fucking Christ. Intelligent, exotic, feline gray eyes appraised him as she tucked a loose strand of dark-blonde hair behind her ear. Her hair was long and pulled back in a pony-tail, giving him an unhindered view of a graceful neck and an arresting face. For some reason he couldn’t look away.
Watching her eyes drop to his body, drinking him in, Braden was intrigued. He was used to women looking at him. He was a big guy and he worked out and he’d had no complaints from women. He wasn’t, however, used to a woman appearing so consternated by the fact that she was checking him out. He raised an eyebrow, curious about her.
“Yeah, I’m American.”
That voice. He shifted in his seat. She really did have the sexiest voice he’d ever heard. He wanted to hear it again. “Just visiting?” Braden murmured.
“Nope.”
“Then you’re a student?”
Whatever she heard in his tone it made her tense. Braden envied her casual, light clothing in this heat and thanked God for throwing her in his path on a day so hot in Scotland it had caused the American to wear those tiny shorts.
True, she wasn’t his usual type. Most of his girlfriends, including his current girlfriend Holly, and his ex-wife Analise, were tall, slender platinum blondes. The American was the opposite of every woman he’d ever dated.
And yet… she was beyond appealing.
She had surprisingly large breasts for such a delicately built woman—big boobs, wee waist, and another surprise were those gorgeous legs of hers. They were shapely and long despite her small stature. Hot blood rushed southwards.
Bloody Nora.
When Braden finally dragged his eyes up to her expressive face he noted the raised eyebrow. He’d been caught eating her up and she did not look impressed. Amused, he grinned at her. Usually this would incur a responding grin. Instead the brat rolled her eyes at him.
“I was a student,” she answered, and Braden’s ears warmed to the purr of her dulcet voice. “I live here. Dual citizenship.”
“You’re part Scottish?”
She gave him a barely-there nod and seemed intent to not look at him. He smiled inwardly, feeling anticipation he hadn’t felt in a while, and definitely not over a woman. It was the anticipation of a challenge. Women came quite easily to him and it certainly made life less difficult. Life was stressful enough in business. But he couldn’t argue with what this strange, inexplicable feeling toward the American.
He’d never felt instant attraction like it.
Braden eyed her and grew even more dangerously hot at the idea of turning that willful glint in her stunning eyes soft with need as he explored every inch of her.
He shifted in his seat again, disappointment settling over him when he belatedly remembered he was seeing someone else. Since he wasn’t the kind of man to ask for another woman’s number while he was in a relationship that meant he’d have to ignore whatever was between him and the American.
Bugger.
The timing was fucked.
He couldn’t have her. Eyeing her mouth, despite knowing that conversation—or anything—was pointless, he found himself asking, “What do you do now that you’ve graduated?”
She shot him a look out of the corner of her eyes and it seemed to hold more than a hint of disdain. “What do you do? I mean, when you’re not manhandling women into cabs?”
It occurred to Braden that a man knew he was really bored with life when he got a kick out of a woman’s condescension. “What do you think I do?”
“I’m thinking lawyer. Answering questions with questions, manhandling…”
“I’m not a lawyer. But you could be. I seemed to recall a question answered with a question. And that,” he gestured to her full mouth, wondering how she’d taste, “That’s a definite smirk.” His voice was thick with want and he knew she heard it in the way her eyes flared as their gazes met.
Yeah, she felt the heat too.
The air in the cab was suddenly heavy with sexual tension. An undeniable, incredible electricity that Braden really fucking wanted to explore.
As awful as it was, he was cursing the existence of Holly, his current girlfriend, to hell in that moment. What he had with Holly wasn’t special. It was just fun. But it was exclusive.
Shit.
The American not only looked away but seemed to deliberately lean her whole body away from him as she stared out at the passing traffic. As he watched her attempt to create a distance between them with silence, his eyes caressed the sharp sweep of her jawline and the smoothness of her olive skin. She had great skin. Skin that told of her age, and it suddenly occurred to him that the American was quite young, probably ages with Ellie. He hadn’t realized at first because she had seemed attractively self-possessed.
Now she seemed uncomfortable… perhaps inexperienced?
It should have put him off.
It didn’t.
Whoever she was, however she was, Braden was intrigued.
He wanted to work her out.
“Are you shy?” He asked trying not to sound like a condescending prick.
She turned to him with a bemused smile. “Excuse me?”
Not shy then. He eyed her carefully. She wasn’t as easy to read as he’d first thought. He liked that. “Are you shy?” he repeated to be polite, already knowing the answer to that question was no. She was something, but it wasn’t shy.
“Why would you think that?”
He decided to see just how self-possessed she really was. “Most women would be taking advantage of my imprisonment in the taxi with them—chew my ear off, shove their phone number in my face…as well as other things.” His eyes instantly lowered to her lush breasts, letting her know he thought they were well worthy of the attention.
Anticipating either a blush or a scowl when he drew his eyes back to her face, Braden was taken aback to find her grinning at him. Fuck. Her smile hit him with more of an impact than her sexy body. She had one helluva sweet smile. “Wow, you really think a lot of yourself.”
He grinned back. “I’m just speaking from experience.”
“Well, I’m not the kind of girl who hands out her number to a guy she just met.”
Even though he couldn’t ask for her number he was immediately disappointed by her answer. He’d begun building an idea of who she was in his head and prudish girl next door was definitely not it. “Ahh,” he looked away. “You’re a no-sex-until-the-third-date, marriage-and-babies kind of woman.” Not exactly his type.
“No, no, and no,” she answered, seeming affronted by the idea. So affronted in fact that he suddenly wondered if the opposite was true. Was he in the presence of that rare creature? A woman afraid of commitment?
“Interesting,” he murmured.
“I’m not giving you my number.”
Unfortunately Braden couldn’t seduce her number out of her. “I didn’t ask for it. And even if I wanted it, I wouldn’t ask for it.” Fucking lie. “I have a girlfriend.” Unfortunately, true. Braden mentally slapped himself across the head for that ungentlemanly thought. Holly was a good girl and deserved better than that.
“Then stop looking at me like that.”
“I have a girlfriend, but I’m not blind. Just because I can’t do anything doesn’t mean I’m not allowed to look.” A crying shame if you asked him. He wanted to look. He wanted to look past the cynical eyes and through the sweet smile and find out which one of them was her. Maybe she was both. Maybe she was neither. He didn’t know. At all. And he wanted to. Jesus—
“Here’s good, thanks.”
What? His fascination with her mystery was suddenly brought to an abrupt halt by her direction to the driver. They weren’t at Dublin Street yet. They still had… Braden looked outside. They were at Queen Street Gardens, only seconds from her destination. And why was he panicking? She was off limits.
The driver pulled up to the curb and she handed him fare and reached for the door.
“Wait,” Braden found himself saying.
She turned to him, her expression impatient. “What?”
Braden sensed he had seconds here. He could either tell her to take her money back and offer to pay for the entire cab fare as he intended. Or he could ask her the one thing that had been itching at him since they met.
“Do you have a name?”
She smiled and Braden automatically found himself smiling with her. “Actually, I have two.”
What?
She jumped out of the cab and despite the loss of her he found myself chuckling at her cool reply.
It was his own fault. He’d asked a smart woman the wrong question.
Just as abruptly as she’d left him, Braden’s amusement fled. He realized he’d probably never see her again. Now that really was a crying shame. His father was right. His intuition was what made him a successful businessman, and his intuition was telling him he’d just let a great opportunity pass him by.
Swallowing his disappointment, Braden directed the cabbie to turnabout and head toward his meeting… in an even worse fucking mood than he’d started out in.



Also Coming Soon!!!!! 

Fight or Flight

 




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