Release Blitz + Giveaway: Howl Down the Moon (Comet Lake Chronicles #2) by Layla Dorine

Howl Down the Moon (Comet Lake Chronicles #2) is out from NineStar Press! Join author Layla Dorine and IndiGo Marketing as they share the latest in the paranormal series! Read more and enter in the NSP credit giveaway!

Title: Howl Down the Moon

Series: Comet Lake Chronicles, Book 2

Author: Layla Dorine

Publisher: NineStar Press

Release Date: 03/01/2022

Heat Level: 3 - Some Sex

Pairing: Male/Male, Male/Male Menage

Length: 96400

Genre: Paranormal, LGBTQIA+, shifters, bonded mates, doctor, hurt-comfort, anger management, resentments, handling grief

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Description

Luka knows he screwed up the night he tried to help Raine. He always gets things wrong—one of many reasons he steers clear of the rest of the pack. Besides, he doesn’t deserve the fellowship of other wolves, not with how badly he failed when it mattered most.

Rand has seen a great deal during his time as pack physician, both good and bad. Helping others is his life’s calling, so when a wolf shows up with bitemarks from an altercation with another wolf, he’s quick to treat, but when he learns the name of the wolf bleeding on his clinic floor, he’s quick to judge, too. Too bad he fails to take the time to learn the whole story.

Speaking of stories, there’s one Slade has refused to listen to for years—so much so, he’s relegated himself to the borderlands to avoid having anything to do with those who caused the tragedy that cost him his twin and the vengeance he knows will damn him for life if he carries it out.

A series of decisions, good and bad, brings the lives of these three wolves crashing together. In Comet Lake, that’s called fate. The spark of a chance. Now it’s up to them to put stubbornness aside, stop answering questions with questions, and pause in their self-loathing long enough to listen to one another, put their pasts behind them, and learn how to love.

Excerpt

Where had the sun gone? Yes, it was fall, and the days had been growing shorter, but for it to be nighttime already, it had to be…well…damn. Scrubbing a hand over his face, Dr. Randal Forrester realized he’d once again forgotten to take a dinner break or lock up at a reasonable time. Standing, the pang of pain that shot through his lower back was a reminder that he’d also been sitting too long. So much for following the instructions he gave his patients. Leaning back, he stretched until he felt something pull, then bent to touch his toes. A series of pops ran down his spine, providing instant relief.

His stomach rumbled, so he shut down his computer and made sure a printed copy of tomorrow’s schedule was placed front and center on his desk. A light day. Provided there were no emergencies, maybe he could get some fishing in. A little sunlight, a little relaxation—it wouldn’t do for the pack’s only doctor to end up sick himself.

Times like these, when he was restless and eager to spend time in the woods, he wished Doc Washington hadn’t retired. Not that the elder hadn’t deserved it—he’d devoted more than forty-seven years to healing and tending to his pack—but lack of another doctor, or even a nurse practitioner, made it difficult to take a break when he was always on call.

One last walk through the offices, just to make sure he’d turned all the lights off. Moonlight streaming in through the window of his counseling space slashed across fur that didn’t belong there. Flipping on the light revealed a gray-and-white stuffed goose, which had been accidentally abandoned earlier in the day. Picking it up, he relocated it to his office before shooting Gabe a quick text message to let him know Raine’s goose was here. Knowing the wolf the way he was coming to, Gabe would beat him to the door in the morning to collect that goose for his mate.

Honestly, he wasn’t surprised Raine had forgotten it. They’d had a tough session, with Raine slowly trusting him enough to open up and talk about the conflicting emotions he was currently struggling with. His secretary had left hours before, shutting down the front half of the clinic, which was why Doc was almost startled out of his skin to hear rustling coming from there.

Irritation and outrage bubbled to the surface. He stalked toward the sound, intending to give some drug-seeking wolf a piece of his mind and an offer of counseling. Instead, he found Mister Meow batting around a crinkly cat toy, the fluffy orange cat fixing him a look like What? when Doc illuminated him with his phone. How many times, how many had he told Stephanie not to let that damned cat in, even if it was after office hours and all the exam rooms were closed? It didn’t matter that she vacuumed the carpet each morning either. A clinic was no place for a cat!

Sighing, he knelt, clucking his tongue at the cat, intending to catch it and put it back out where it belonged, when several raps on the front door drew his attention. Grumbling, he threw up his hands and marched across the room, yanking the door open only to have the wolf on the other side spill over the threshold. They’d have hit the floor if he hadn’t reacted quickly and caught them.

A low, rumbling groan escaped the dark-clad form as Doc carefully shifted them in his arms and carried them to the nearest exam room. Wavy strands of golden-brown hair, shot through with flaxen and white streaks, spilled out from beneath the black hood, half obscuring the wolf’s face. Doc brushed it back, the heat beneath his hand indicating a fever. Flushed and sweaty, their eyes were closed, their breathing heavy and labored. Doc ran a thermometer over their forehead, the instrument display reading 108.4. Dangerously high for a wolf, risking brain damage for a human, but the chances of it being human were near impossible.

The eyes beneath the closed lids were hickory-gold and dilated when he shone a light into them. Their clothes smelled of cedar, pine, and rot, like an infection raging out of control. Doc gently unzipped the hoodie and peeled up the T-shirt beneath, gasping when he saw the red, swollen bite on the other wolf’s side, oozing pus from places where it wasn’t packed with the remains of some kind of poultice. The skin around the wound had rotted away, making it clear to him this wasn’t recent, but the wolf itself wasn’t known to him.

Odd, but not necessarily alarming. In the six years he’d lived among the Pacific Northwest pack, he’d come to learn how spread out some members of the pack chose to live. It made sense that one who lived near the outskirts might not have had a need to seek him out until now. It was also quite possible that this was the new mate of a pack member, but a quick inspection of the wolf’s wrists revealed there were no bond marks on either one. So much for that theory.

Purchase

NineStar Press | Books2Read

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.

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Giveaway

One lucky winner will receive a $50.00 NineStar Press Gift Code! 

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Release Blitz + Giveaway: Halfway to Someday by Layla Dorine

Layla Dorine & IndiGo Marketing are promoting the release of Halfway to Someday. Find out more about this hurt/comfort romance, read an excerpt & enter in the $10 Ninestar Press credit giveaway!

Title: Halfway to Someday

Author: Layla Dorine

Publisher: NineStar Press

Release Date: January 27, 2020

Heat Level: 2 - Fade to Black Sex

Pairing: Male/Male

Length: 110300

Genre: Contemporary, LGBT, PTSD, musician, ex-military, insta-love, contemporary, gay, rock star, hurt/comfort

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Synopsis

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.

Purchase

NineStar Press | Amazon | Smashwords | Barnes & Noble | Kobo

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

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Release Blitz + Giveaway: Where Song Replaces Silence by Layla Dorine

Celebrate the release of Where Song Replaces Silence with author Layla Dorine and IndiGo Marketing! Learn more about the new fantasy and enter in the $10 NineStar Press credit giveaway!

Title: Where Song Replaces Silence

Author: Layla Dorine

Publisher: NineStar Press

Release Date: April 22, 2019

Heat Level: 2 - Fade to Black Sex

Pairing: Male/Male

Length: 33300

Genre: Fantasy, LGBT, abduction, anger, Brownies, faeries, gay, hurt/comfort, mythical creatures, nymphs

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Synopsis

Raze halts his midnight joy ride to give chase to twinkling lights that appear in the road before him and then lead him deep into a forest, where he falls into another world. There, magic is real, wishes are granted, and no one is considered odd or out of place.

Raze has never fit in anywhere in his own world and uses his angry attitude to keep others at bay and mask his anxieties and fears in this new place. A dangerous combination in Loas, where rudeness is frowned upon and foul language can land him in a dungeon.

Rurin, an inhabitant of Loas, tries to teach Raze about their world, its magic and its residents, but he faces Raze’s stubborn resistance at every turn. Bitter about his past, pessimistic about his future, Raze sees what could be, but he struggles to accept it. In the meantime, his encounters with the Fae range from hostile sarcasm to potential danger. While he attempts to keep the promises he’s made to Rurin and follow the rules laid out for him, Raze grows more and more curious about the place where he’s landed. It’s too bad he keeps making poor choices.

As the connection between them grows, Rurin works to keep Raze from being banished, but Raze may be cast out of the Loas before he has the opportunity to discover the true reason he was led there in the first place.

Excerpt

Where Song Replaces Silence
Layla Dorine © 2019
All Rights Reserved

Heavy, the steady thud, thud, thud of the base rocked the back windows, and poured from the open driver’s side where the scent of rain flowed freely, mist lightly splashing on Raze’s face. “Four Rusted Horses” blared from a radio cranked so high the rain-covered glass vibrated with the force of the speakers’ efforts.

Thud, thud, thud, “forbidden…” Raze growled along, more snarl than song. Thud, thud, thud, “heaven…” Every word committed to memory. Thud, thud, thud, “useless…” Despite the slickness of the road, he drove with just two fingers, his free hand tapping out a beat on the shifter. Thud, thud, thud, “hell…” Glowing red numbers on the dash flipped from 2:59 to 3:00, the witching hour, the night so dark the headlights struggled to pierce the dim and fog.

The old Charger’s purr was a gospel choir of spark plugs and gears. His steel and chrome baby was the only thing in life Raze worked hard to care for. Some might even say he worshipped her power and speed, stroked her like a lover, and spent more than one night curled against the supple leather of her seats. He called her Rhea, after Saturn’s second largest moon. As a kid, he’d had a collection of beautiful photos of the ringed planet.

For most, this might have been motivation to aim high, study astrophysics or astronomy, anything that might put them closer to the cosmos. Not Raze. If he was behind the wheel, space and time were irrelevant; the world shrank, melted, and faded away. The song reached its crescendo, and he drummed along, eyes half closed as he pressed harder on the gas, felt the wind snarl and tug at his hair—sharp, like cold teeth. Tensing, he belted out the final verse, barely keeping Rhea on the road.

Exhilaration warred with exhaustion, the miles piling up for hours. A quick glance at the dash showed the gas tank was drifting below a fourth, dangerous territory when he had no clue where to find the nearest station. Common sense said he should have stopped at the last place he saw, but the rebel flags in the window made him wary. He’d always had a tough time understanding how people could hate someone so absolutely over something as simple as the color of their skin.

His own varied, based on how much time he spent in the sun. Most days, his skin glowed like the beach at sunrise, the sand shimmering a glowing golden hue. In the summer, though, his skin grew three shades darker, and if he wasn’t careful, a crop of freckles would appear splattered across his nose. He hated them as much as he hated the odd, three-toned hues of his hair, and how, no matter how many times he dyed the messy mane, he could never quite get his locks to turn out one color.

The long strands needed another treatment, the rich reds were like blood and rubies, or at least, that’s how a multitude of people had described the color over the years. A few, being kind, had likened the shade to fall leaves or a sunset, but kindness hadn’t been a common occurrence growing up. His so-called oddities had always made others uncomfortable. Funny, but ever since he’d learned the meaning of normal the idea had freaked the hell outta him. One of the many reasons he was still drifting.

Shit!

Slamming on the brakes, he jerked the wheel, sending Rhea spinning through the dancing green-gold figure appearing out of nowhere, swathed in a halo of lights. Somehow, despite the rows of waving trees, he got Rhea stopped without clipping one. His throat hurt, and his chest was pounding, lungs heaving as he sucked in air. Breathing and trying to relax the death grip on the wheel at the same time was a struggle. His fingers ached. Stiff and cramping, they refused to cooperate, no matter how hard he focused. Shaking, he collapsed against the wheel, the weight of his body sounding the horn, the echo a forlorn cry above the howling wind.

Shit shit shit shit shit

The only word he could formulate, shit, a mantra, running through his brain. There hadn’t been a thud. He hadn’t felt one, hadn’t heard one, meaning he’d missed them, right?

He didn’t want to look, but he knew he had to. Maybe they’d tripped, fallen, dived out of the way, rolled. They could be hurt, but not as bad as if he’d struck them with nearly two tons of metal. Swallowing, he told himself to man up, jerked his fingers free of their grip on the wheel, and sucked in a deep breath as he fumbled in the darkness for his phone. Three bars. Good, he could get them help if they needed it.

He fumbled with the door, got it open on the second try, and practically fell getting out, his body rebelling with every movement. For a moment, he stood in darkness, disoriented as he tried to figure out which direction he’d been coming from. When he spotted the twinkling green lights over the road, he blinked and stumble staggered toward the glowing apparition, watching the fragments of gold swirl and take shape, hovering, the form human, but not.

The fuck?

About fifty feet away, he could hear laughter, a mocking, teasing jangle of bell-like notes.

“You missed me, you missed me.”

Huh?

Squinting, he struggled to assess the situation, even as the words continued.

“Now you gotta kiss me.”

Oh, hell no. Either he was hallucinating, or he’d smacked his head on something. Either way, he was gonna wake up in a few minutes to darkness, a whining engine, and a pounding headache even the best painkillers wouldn’t cure.

Scrubbing a hand over his face, he pressed his fingertips against his temples, counting to ten, but the laughter and singsong words continued.

“You think this is funny!” he roared, hands dropping to his sides, fingers curling into fists. He took a step forward and then another. “You could have gotten me killed; you could have fucked up my car; how fuckin’ stupid do you have to be, playing games out here in the middle of nowhere! Do you get off on fucking with people, huh? I swear to god, if there is a fuckin’ piston outta place in Rhea, you’re gonna pay to have her fixed.”

The laughter grew, even as he stalked the light. Only when he was within grasping range did it turn and flee toward the forest, glancing back every now and again to taunt him more.

“You can run, run, run, but when you’re done, you will never catch me.”

“Oh, you better believe Imma catch you, and when I do, Imma beat the sparkle offa you!” he screamed, crashing through the underbrush after it. It occurred to him, as he slipped and floundered, like as not, he was chasing swamp gas or some fucked-up idea of a joke involving holograms and projectors. They were probably sitting in a tree laughing at his stupidity. Didn’t stop him from continuing to give chase.

Tripping, he landed facedown in prickly brambles.

“FUCK! FUCK! FUCK!”

Yowling, he carefully tried to detangle himself while the laughter continued to grate on his nerves.

“Clumsy, aren’t we? My, my, my, that’s a very fine mess you’ve gotten yourself into.”

“Me? You’re the one who led me into this crap.”

“If you’d been faster, or smarter, perhaps you’d have used your wings, instead of stumbling around like a blind Alp-luachra searching for its next joint.”

“Wish I was sitting somewhere warm and dry smokin’ a joint right about now,” he grumbled beneath his breath, even as the sparkling flake of glittery light continued to cackle, twinkling like a firefly with every high-pitched note.

“Ah, but your wishes matter little to me. I lack the ability to grant them, and even if I could, I wouldn’t, until we’ve finished our game, though you are a poor, poor chaser. Perhaps you would be a better seeker. Shall I hide and see if you can find me?”

“Please don’t; actually, no, wait; please do. Yeah, that’s brilliant. You go hide, and I’ll come find you…in a century or two.”

Purchase

NineStar Press | Amazon | Smashwords | Barnes & Noble | Kobo

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

Website | Facebook | Twitter | Blog | Pinterest

Giveaway

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Review: Midnight Musicals and Coffee Ice Cream by Layla Dorine

Takashi never imagined that a simple call to an escort service would result in meeting Zander. What started out as a date to the winter gala at his office, morphed into a series of paid dates that offer him several unique opportunities to get to know the handsome, enigmatic escort.

Zander hates feeling like an ornament. After four years he’s ready for a new occupation. Unfortunately, he isn’t skilled enough for any job that would pay him the money he needs to make to support himself and his family. So, he stays with Mateo’s agency and keeps on taking clients, refusing to call them dates because that’s too personal.
Until Takashi.

Now their both trying to make the best of the brief moments they have together, blurring the lines more and more with every passing night. Takashi wants more, Zander wants to give it to him, but only after he gets the rest of his life worked out. Only problem is, he has no idea how.

 DNF - 25%

I really wanted to love this story, as the blurb grabbed my attention, but unfortunately this didn't work for me. It is a slow burn, and generally I’m okay with that but for some reason I had trouble engaging with the story and I didn’t really get to that part.

Takashi’s disinterest in relationships in the beginning kind of set the tone for me for the part of the story I read. Even though he was very interested in Corban, I couldn’t seem to shake his overall ennui which manifested in how I read the pages.

I was also not keen on the edge of judgement for sex workers in what I read, and this further set my mood while reading. I respect that Corban had his own way of making money, but there were a lot of veiled jabs at sex work from both characters and it came across poorly.

I did try to pick it up again a few more times, thinking fresh eyes and a clear mind would help, but I must admit defeat with this one and walk away.

I thoroughly enjoyed Layla Dorine’s book Guitars and Cages so I will definitely pick up more from this author. Unfortunately this just missed the mark for me.

I recommend checking out other reviews to determine if this is something you would enjoy.

A review copy was provided for an honest opinion.

Release Blitz + Giveaway: Ta Weezo's Blues by Layla Dorine

Celebrate the release of Ta Weezo's Blues with author Layla Dorine and IndiGo Marketing! Learn more about the unusual shapeshifter romance today and enter in the $10 NineStar Press credit giveaway!

Title: Ta Weezo's Blues

Author: Layla Dorine

Publisher: NineStar Press

Release Date: December 24, 2018

Heat Level: 3 - Some Sex

Pairing: Male/Male

Length: 24800

Genre: Paranormal, college, professor, student, shapeshifter, teacher’s pet, poet, author, ferret shifter

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Synopsis

Sabre never had any intentions of becoming the teacher’s pet. In fact, most of his school years have been spent trying to avoid attention. The scar that mars his cheek has made him wary of strangers, their questions and prying eyes leave him feeling exposed in ways he’s uncomfortable with. Accustomed to blending in, he lurks around the shadows in the back of classrooms, turning in exemplary work but rarely taking part in discussions.

Professor Locklear’s Native lit class is different though. Sabre’s interest in the subject matter, coupled with a dedicated scholar’s need to turn in the best work possible, leads him to seek out a more advanced reading list, much to the delight of Professor Locklear. When he comes across Sabre reading material beyond even the advanced list, Professor Locklear invites on a fieldtrip to a nearby village. Along the way he learns more than just the knowledge contained in the books. He learns about trust and discovers that there are others out there just like him— shapeshifters.

What he believed was an individual anomaly turns out to be something beyond legend and lore, a whole different culture he’d never known existed. The only way he can move forward is to let his shields down long enough to trust the man whose conversations he’s come to enjoy, but to do that, he’ll have to stop distancing himself from everyone.

Excerpt

Ta Weezo’s Blues
Layla Dorine © 2018
All Rights Reserved

The hallway smelled of old dust and coconut curry, setting Sabre’s stomach growling as he trudged the last few feet to Professor Locklear’s door. Instinctively, he pulled his hood low, casting a shadow over his eyes, and with practiced ease, he swept his hair forward. It would have to do. Sucking in a deep breath, he counted to five before letting it out slowly, then licked his lips, and knocked on the door.

“Come in!”

The voice was slightly muffled by the wood that Sabre partially shoved open, only enough to poke his head in about halfway.

“Excuse me, professor, do you have a minute?”

Sabre kept his head angled, watching Professor Locklear out of the corner of his eye. Several moments passed before his professor stopped writing and placed the pen beside his notebook, raised his head, adjusted his glasses, checked the clock, and then brushed a stray strand of hair back from where it had fallen over one eye.

“I have a few, so you might as well come in. No sense hovering half in and half out of the doorway.”

Sabre shuffled forward, carefully keeping his eyes lowered as much as possible.

“So, what can I help you with? Are you in one of my classes?”

“Yes sir, I’m in your ten o’clock Introduction to Native Literature class.”

“Ahh, you must be the one who sits in the corner by the emergency exit, where it’s nice and dark. I have to admit, when you first chose that spot, I assumed you were looking for a place to nap, but you’ve since proved me wrong. Whenever I look your way, you’re focused intently on me or the power point.”

“Yes, sir. I enjoy the material and some of the discussions are pretty fascinating.”

“Really? In that case, why is it that you’ve never taken part in any of them?”

Shuffling from one foot to the other, Sabre carefully contemplated the question before responding. “I try to let my papers speak for me. I’m bad at public discourse. I get tongue-tied and trip over words or end up being so hesitant that people talk over me. When I’m writing, I can organize my thoughts and present a more complete analysis of what I’ve read.”

“Sounds as if you are extremely self-aware. Not a common trait these days, I’m afraid. Still, if you feel you have something to add to a conversation, then I hope you won’t refrain from doing so, er… I’m sorry. You’ll have to help me out with your name.”

“It’s Sabre.”

“Ahh, yes, one of the more unique ones this year. You’re right; your papers are remarkably organized, well thought out and quite complex in their reasoning. I must admit, you’ve had me rereading a few things I haven’t gone through in years just to understand why you’ve presented some of your comparisons in the manner in which you’ve organized them.”

Sabre grinned, a surge of pride rushing through him. “Thank you. That’s actually why I stopped by. I was wondering if you had any books you could recommend, similar to the required material for the course. I’ve finished reading everything on the syllabus, plus the referred texts I came across when I was researching; killed a couple piles of sticky notes and pens in the process, too, so now I’m hoping for more.”

The professor’s eyes went wide and he steepled his hands on the desktop calendar, tapping his fingertips together as he slowly scrutinized Sabre, making him shuffle more and tug at his hoodie to ensure it shadowed his face.

“Try as you might, I don’t think you’re going to change colors and blend into the woodwork. If you do, I think I’d have to take a half day off and schedule an immediate exam with my optometrist,” Professor Locklear remarked with a chuckle. “You can grab a seat, you know. I’m not a fire-breathing dragon about to roast you for stepping into my lair, though I wish I could singe a student or two when I catch them snoring.”

Sabre chuckled softly but didn’t come any closer.

“I guess not. Well, I must say your question caught me a bit off guard. It’s not one I’m used to, at least not from someone who wasn’t required to take my class. Are you considering adding Native Studies as a minor? You are a junior, correct?”

“No, sir. I’m a senior.”

“Ahh, okay. So are you looking for something specific?”

“Well, I, umm, really enjoyed Reservation Blues, so I found the other Sherman Alexie books and read them too. I loved the myths and legends book you assigned, and Fools Crow and Love Medicine were extremely fascinating. I read House Made of Dawn twice, not because I didn’t understand it the first time, but because it resonated with me, and I was compelled to reread it. I didn’t dislike any of the assigned reading if that helps at all?”

A long, low whistle emanated from the professor, who cocked an eyebrow at him, clearly impressed at all the reading Sabre had already done in just the first five weeks of the semester.

“It does, though there was no reason to finish the course load in a few weeks’ time; wouldn’t want you to burn yourself out.”

“It was easy, though. I always work ahead. My work-study job is in the library, shelving books and working at the research center desk, answering phone calls and emails. I usually have a ton of downtime and write most of my papers there. Plus, I’m carrying a light course load, four classes, since that’s all I need for graduation.”

“Well then, let me see what I can do to find you something.”

Rummaging around on his desk, Professor Locklear began moving neat stacks of paper until he finally found something of interest. Sabre watched as he perused the list before finally holding it out for him to take.

“Try these; it’s the reading list for my Native Literature 103 class, since I’m pretty sure between your papers and what you just told me, you’ve read most of the books for the 102. See if any of these interest you, and if you have any questions or would care to discuss them, please feel free to come back, or you can stop in my Native Lit discussion group. We meet in the atrium every Wednesday night at eight. Who knows? Perhaps you’ll be inspired to participate.”

“Thanks, I’ll umm… I’ll think about it,” Sabre said, still staring at the proffered paper. Reaching it meant he’d have to move closer, into the brighter lights above Professor Locklear’s desk. Biting his lip, Sabre took the three steps to the desk hesitantly, keeping his eyes on the paper and not the man.

“Are you okay? Is something wrong?”

The concern in his voice was what made Sabre raise his head, and the moment he realized what he’d done, he ducked it again, took the paper, and backed away until he felt the door at his back. Twisting around, he fumbled for the doorknob.

“Wait.”

Pausing, Sabre gripped the knob, never turning back.

“If you’re hiding in the shadows because of that scar, please know it isn’t necessary.”

Sabre touched his cheek, stroking his fingertips along the rough edges of the raised, puckered skin as the memory of moonlight striking glass from a busted bottle flashed through his mind. Almost instantly, his breathing picked up, and his chest felt tight as the first stirrings of panic surged through him.

“I’ve got to go,” Sabre muttered, nearly smacking himself in the face with the door as he wrenched it open. “Thanks, professor.”

“You’re welcome, but…”

Sabre took off before he heard the rest, sprinting up the curry-scented hall, the stench making him gag. Bursting through the outer door, the fall air hit him like a gut punch, carrying with it the scent of dying leaves. He gagged, bile rising in his throat. Skidding to a halt beside a bush, he vomited, grateful nothing but acid remained in his stomach. By the time he finished, he’d broken out in a cold sweat and felt gross and tired, wanting nothing more than to get back to his dorm room and take a long, hot, shower and climb into bed with a movie.

Glancing at the slightly crumpled list he gripped in his fist, Sabre sighed before smoothing it against his thigh, folding it carefully, and tucking it into the pocket of his hoodie. Shoulders slumped, he turned and trudged back toward his dorm, grateful the day was at an end. All in all, it had been both a success and a disaster. Next time, he’d just email his request, he decided, as a cold wind made him shiver and debate what the hell he’d been thinking, going to see his professor in person.

“Stupid,” he muttered as his short walk came to an end at his dorm.

For a so-called genius, he sure could be an idiot sometimes.

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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.

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Release Blitz: Midnight Musicals and Coffee Ice Cream by Layla Dorine

Celebrate the release of Midnight Musicals and Coffee Ice Cream with author Layla Dorine! Find out more about this contemporary romance featuring an escort and his client.

Midnight Musicals and Coffee Ice Cream by Layla Dorine

An escort and his client…could it ever be more than a business transaction.

Blurb

Takashi never imagined that a simple call to an escort service would result in meeting Zander. What started out as a date to the winter gala at his office, morphed into a series of paid dates that offer him several unique opportunities to get to know the handsome, enigmatic escort.

Zander hates feeling like an ornament. After four years he’s ready for a new occupation. Unfortunately, he isn’t skilled enough for any job that would pay him the money he needs to make to support himself and his family. So, he stays with Mateo’s agency and keeps on taking clients, refusing to call them dates because that’s too personal.

Until Takashi.

Now their both trying to make the best of the brief moments they have together, blurring the lines more and more with every passing night. Takashi wants more, Zander wants to give it to him, but only after he gets the rest of his life worked out. Only problem is, he has no idea how.

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About 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.

Layla Dorine can be found at:

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Review: NineStar Press 2017 Holiday Series by Various Authors - Pt. 2

Joshua just wants to be alone. Happy holidays be damned; the last place he wants to be is at a New Year’s Eve party surrounded by overly jolly friends. After a breakup with his boyfriend, Clay, he’s having a hard time watching other people be merry when all he wants is to drown himself in booze.
If it wasn’t for a promise to two dear friends, he’d have been home on his couch watching the least festive thing possible. Instead, he’s got to deal with flamboyant Desi flirting up a storm with him. Only Desi has a past too, and his own pain, as well as a bit of unsolicited advice for Joshua that could turn his bleak night into a bright future.
5 Hearts
Sometimes it's impossible to see what is in front of our noses. This short story is a reminder to not take our loved ones for granted, even if our intentions are good. 

Joshua is a hard worker, too hard really, but it isn't until Clay leaves him that he realises his priorities may be a little skewed. A celebration, a party is the last place he wants to be, but a promise is a promise and he's not a complete arsehole!

Desi seems like an unlikely ally, but he has the benefit of hindsight to share with Joshua. He may get right on Joshua's wick, but under the mask is a whole lot of pain and an unlikely unlikely source of wisdom.

This was a story that makes the reader question their priorities and reconsider their actions. Told through the hope of a new year and new start, I found this a delightful read.

Agent Azzerare and the black market criminal known as Vulpe meet once a year every holiday season to collaborate on certain secret missions. Azzerare is less than enthusiastic when Management first suggests it; Vulpe is amoral, self-serving, and criminally inclined—everything Azzerare stands against. But as the years pass and the missions continue, Azzerare sees a new side of Vulpe: someone loyal, clever, and willing to risk his life to save Azzerare’s. Azzerare must decide how he feels about his partner—and if it’s love, he has to ask himself whether he’s willing to risk his career to pursue it, because an emotionally compromised agent is a dead one in Management’s eyes.
5 Hearts

"If you're dead when I get back, I'll kill you myself."

A secret agent/sniper story may not seem the most Christmassy theme around but this is one of my favourite seasonal short stories.

I liked, no I loved, the chemistry between Azzerare and Vulpe. The dynamic between them was second to none. It sparked and was witty and I adored it.

This story was just the right amount of different. Set over a series of Christmas and New Years days, it slowly built up the extraordinary relationship between the two protags. 

This managed to be different and it really has been a favourite read of mine.

Ty Hallahan was on a mission: make it home in time for Christmas—or suffer his Irish Catholic mother’s wrath. But thanks to a series of misadventures, his simple four-hour flight has turned into a two-day ordeal. And just as he has almost reached his destination, Ty is stuck once again—and on Christmas Eve, no less.
But maybe Santa has something up his sleeve for Ty? Wandering through the airport terminal, Ty runs into the man he has secretly loved for years. Once Ty’s professor, Dr. Ernesto Goncalves—Dr. G for short—is also stuck for the holidays, and Ty determines to make the most of their time together.
4 Hearts
Sometimes Christmas wishes do come true - maybe just not in the when and where one expected!
The chance encounter in this story is as ephemeral as a snowflake but after a run of bad luck that leads to a night neither Ty or Dr G could have foretold, this story sure did make me smile. It doesn't always have to be the big all; the big everything. Sometimes it can be just for right now, for this moment in time. The connection between the two characters was strong and bright, I liked the slight awkwardness their past relationship to each other (student/teacher) dictated as they moved into newer territory. A lovely story that approached Christmas romance in a slightly different way. Recommended.

Attending his daughter’s holiday dance recital should be easy for pro hockey player Patrick Barnes. Showing up in a tutu, however, wasn’t exactly part of the plan. And yet the holidays get even more interesting when he bumps into Lee, the man he let get away years ago.
Ballet instructor Lee can’t believe who just walked into his studio. He also can’t believe how quickly the flare of attraction between he and Patrick resurfaces, despite the years that have gone by since they last spoke.
Once upon a time, they let opportunities get away. Is it possible they’ll now have the chance to pursue the spark that has come back to life after just one conversation?
Holidays are a time for giving, and neither Patrick nor Lee are about to take this particular gift for granted.
4 Hearts
A lovely tale of love refound. 

Years have passed since Patrick and Lee missed their opportunity for love. You know the story, wrong time, wrong place. The chance of love slips by, missed due to circumstance and decision. Now though the time is right, and thanks to Patrick's darling daughter a second chance is available.

This story really epitomises the 'things happen for a reason' train of thought. Left to fate, Patrick and Lee certainly gained more than they missed - even though the journey was longer.

I loved this story, I really did. The dynamics between the characters really spark it to life. Jordan was fabulous, she didn't care that her dad was bi and (as is often the case) she could set a good example for many adults out there.

A definite bonus to my Christmas reading.

Working on Christmas Eve—no fun. Working a double shift on Christmas Eve? Even less fun. But working a double shift on Christmas Eve in a hotel with two guests? For Jason Martin, it was a recipe for a long, dull holiday. But then a power outage at the local airport sends a bus filled with people to Jason’s hotel. Alone, Jason not only has to attend to his guests, he has to save Christmas for a group of weary and grouchy travelers. Happily, one of the guests, a Mr. Marino, steps in to lend Jason a hand. Mr. Marino is helpful, handsome, and running right to the top of Jason’s Christmas wish list. But Jason has sworn off hotel hook-ups. And Mr. Marino will be heading out of town the next day, Christmas day. Is it worth getting involved with someone who is only staying for one night?
5 Hearts
Room at the Inn portrays the spirit of family at Christmas time and how important it is, even when stuck far away from home. Jason is a fabulous employee who really puts his guests' needs first. Dedicated to his job he deals ably with an unexpected coachload of people descending on the hotel. 

It is Jason who is the heart of this story, who creates the spirit of family I mentioned before. It becomes a home for 24 hours, not a hotel. Mr Marino though, well there is more to him than meets the eye. Whilst at first he seemed like just another guest, albeit one who knows the system and can pitch in to help Jason, there is definitely more to him than meets the eye.

Sure, it was whimsical at times - but I liked that about it. The Hallmark feel of everyone pitching in. This was a gorgeous story with a wonderful feeling of Christmas giving and loving about it. Totally recommended by me.

Guest Review: ...And All Shall Fade to Black by Layla Dorine

Moving into his new apartment, Jax never expected to have to break up a fight between his new neighbors, resulting in a physical altercation and a visit from the cops. Never in his wildest dreams did he imagine that it would lead to him meeting Danny, the cute theater manager and playwright that lived next door. Unfortunately, his first impression of Danny and the way he’d cowered away in the fight with his ex, wasn’t exactly a favorable one. Jax already has his own issues to deal with, between his past problems with his mother and the chain of men who’ve floated in and out of her life, his new job as a piercer in his sister’s tattoo shop and his struggles with an eating disorder; the last thing he plans to add to it is a relationship. Yet Danny isn’t so easy to ignore and when they find themselves bonding after Danny shows him around town, and more when Jax offers to help with sets for his latest play, it becomes harder and harder for him to ignore the connection forming between them. As Jax’s insecurities and food issues grow more and more out of control, he find himself turning to Danny for help, rather than his longtime friends Callum and Max who lives just downstairs. Danny’s mix of patience, stubbornness and tough love make it harder and harder for Jax to keep his distance, and somewhere in the course of their daily lives, they find themselves moving from being friends, to being more.

Trigger warning: domestic violence

Reviewer: Annika

I'm sorry to say this book didn't work for me. At all. And sadly for so many reasons. My first issue was with the writing and editing of this book. It reads more like an early beta version rather than the finished book. A lot of the times I found the sentence structure to be really confusing and I had to re-read many of them just to try to make sense of them. That might just be me, I don't know. All I know is that I had a difficult time with it.

A lot of the time the story and characters felt flat. Everything lacked in descriptions. I don't need huge and complicated world-buildings, but some basic descriptions would be nice. Reading page after page with only dialogue and nothing that really breaks in to give some relief is exhausting. The really sad thing is that at times there are really great descriptions, and everything flows along nicely, but there should've been so much more of it,

Another pet peeve of mine are constant changes in POV, where you don't know who's head you're in and end up completely lost. At least keep the same POV throughout the entire chapter. I'm always thrown out of the story when there are too many jumps.

And what about our MC's? Well, I'm sad to say I couldn't stand Jax. You'd think Jax would be a more sympathetic person with his past and issues and all that, but to me he just came across like a giant judgemental ass. And with that I don't mean that I need people to be all lovey-dovey and nice and super friendly all the time - it would be ridiculous if they were. But I do want them have basic respect for other human beings. (at least when you are supposed to sympathise and like the person) And Jax's first meeting, well second really (first for us) with Danny just proves that he is not:

Of course the coward on the floor didn't answer him

He couldn't imagine cowering from anyone, let alone someone who seemed hell bent on kicking his ass. At the very least he'd have stood on his own two feet and slugged it out even in a battle he knew he couldn't win

Then you have Danny, who in the beginning comes across as this meek, shy guy who's too afraid to stand up for himself. Yet somehow, they strike up an unlikely pseudo friendship, both wanting more, but too afraid to start something. We don't get to know all that much about Danny as most of the focus is on Jax and his issues or Danny's writing. Danny himself is kind of invisible.

Oh, and for those of you looking for something hot and heavy, this is not the book for you. There is barely no intimacy until the last few chapters of the books. A lot of back and forth between them. A couple of kisses here and there, but not much else and not with any kind of regularity.

I felt like there was a lot of the plot left unexplored, and unanswered. It didn't feel like the story/book was complete. There are too many loose ends left to be tied for my liking. I don't want or need everything fixed by the end of the book. I truly dislike if that's the case. But what I do want and am always looking for is progress, hope. That the characters have learned something from their struggles. When we left the story it felt half done, there is more to be explored, to learn. But not enough for it to turn into a second book or series.

What I did like about this book was how realistic Jax's eating disorder was portrayed. All the struggles he went through, every day and with every bite. You were really there with him during those struggles, they were heart-felt and real. As were the warped sense of self-worth and sense of body. Never wanting help from anyone - or that anyone knew that he was struggling. This part felt really real to me and truly well done.


I was provided with a free copy of this book in exchange for an honest review.

Review: Guitars and Cages (Guitars, #1) by Layla Dorine

Asher Logan is a bartender and a pretty wicked guitar player, when he isn’t wrecking his hands fighting in a cage. With a past he keeps hoping to outrun, Asher’s been on a downward spiral for longer than he can remember. When his sister-in-law leaves Rory, his eight-year-old nephew, in his care, Asher is forced into two things he’s never been good at: sobriety and responsibility. As he struggles to care for Rory, his own life begins to unravel.

When Asher’s brother, Alex, turns up, presenting as a girl and announcing her new name is Alexia, it further complicates matters, as does the arrival of his new neighbor, Conner. Both, in their own way, compel Asher to look at his own closely-guarded views on sexuality.

When the siblings’ older brother, Cole, reacts violently to Alexia, Asher is placed squarely in the middle of a family conflict which compels him to confront who he pretends to be versus who he really is.

Asher must choose who to trust and who to finally walk away from.

Trigger warning: Abuse and self-harm

This is not a romance………

This is a compelling story about what happens when Asher’s life unravels to the point he can’t imagine how to put everything to rights, and makes some epically bad decisions; starting with agreeing to look after his nephew, Rory, until his sister-in-law sets up a new life in Canada, a year after the death of her husband.

Asher is damaged. Very damaged. He has been hiding his sexuality for as long as he discovered he was bisexual, and has done any number of things to keep people off the scent, including hitting on his sister-in-law when he was a teen, to take the focus off his relationship with the boy he was in love with.

In his mid-twenties at the beginning of this story, we learn a lot about how Asher deals with life, and his connections with his brothers. How they all seem to be separated by pain, and an inability to function in the world.

There is a lot of angst in this story. A lot of complicated relationships and misunderstandings. Family can be the greatest asset or the biggest roadblock in a happy life.

Asher is trying to hide who he is so his brothers aren’t more disappointed with him, but it seems that it is getting harder and harder to ignore the other side of himself. The side that finds it easy to sell himself to men, as long as there is no emotion involved. The side that is a submissive to Catfish, the only man who seems to treasure him, even though it is a lie. The side that eventually sees no problem with his brother Alex becoming his sister Alexia because she is brave and followed her heart. But he can’t seem to get passed the expectations of his older brother Cole. Cole is a homophobic/transphobic alcoholic bully who thinks he is the leader of the pack and has the right to throw his weight around and abuse his siblings.

This story is rough, and raw. It is infuriating and heartbreaking. Asher’s journey is full of pain and holding back tears while he cuts himself to feel something else. There is a lot of messed up stuff that Asher gets himself into because at the end of the day, he loves deeply and he just wants everyone to be okay, even at the expense of himself. He also just wants to avoid emotional connections and the resulting heartbreak.

I loved this story. I loved the character development. I loved the rough edges and sharp points. I am looking forward to taking the next step in Asher’s journey of discovery on what it is to be an adult, and I can’t wait to sink myself into the in this series.

I’d recommend this to people who enjoy stories about family and the darker side of life.

A review copy was provided by the author for an honest opinion