I wondered how today would feel. Release day is always exciting, but I’ve never had a re-release day. (Un)Masked original release back in August ’12. Back then I had no idea what to expect, but I was excited. Being new and not knowing what to do, my unrealistic exceptions of success were not met. That didn’t, however, dampen my enthusiasm for the moment.

(Un)Masked will always be special to me. Especially because of how it came to be. In preparing for today, I revisited everything that lead to my first release. For the first time in a while I was reminded of how much I enjoyed working with Anyta on this. The anticipation I had every time I saw an email with an attachment that told me I had something new to review. I remembered sitting in a hotel near my house when she and her family had come to visit and reviewing edits together. Most of all, it reminded me of my friend and how we braved the world of publishing a book for the first time together. That more than anything makes today wonderful.

For now it’s only available on KU and Amazon, but you can get a paperback.  If you read the original edition, please consider leaving a review – especially if you liked it.

(Un)Masked:

Jay Walker has two wishes: to perform the play of his dreams alongside his best friend at Wellington’s Tory Street Theatre, and to meet that special someone. Someone he’d go to the ends of the earth for. Someone who might only exist in fairy tales.

When Jay meets accordion busker Lethe Cross, it’s like living a dream come true. Lethe’s music captivates Jay, and he resolves to meet the man who plays so beautifully. But then he discovers Lethe’s life is more like a nightmare. The phrase “down on his luck” can’t begin to cover it. Determined to help, Jay does some snooping for answers—and winds up on the wrong end of a centuries-old curse. The good news is there’s a way to break it. The bad news is it might cost Jay his life.

Genre: MM gay paranormal romance, magical realism, new adult

This book was previously published by Dreamspinner Press. The updated 2nd edition is available now!

 

Buy Links:

 

Amazon (KU and Purchase)

 

Paperback

 

Excerpt:

 

Knuckles hit his cheek, forcing him to his knees.

My busker took another hit, going with the force, doing nothing to defend himself.

“What the hell is going on here?”

My voice ripped through the air, startling the older man. He stopped midpunch and twisted in my direction, a deep frown etched into his face.

“Get away from him!” I yelled, but he was already on his way, barreling down the hill.

I moved in front of my busker, who was slowly pushing himself to his feet. “Are you okay?”

He lifted his head as he rose upright. Dark green eyes met mine, and he smiled. My breath hovered a moment at seeing the blood spilling from his lip and down his chin. He pulled something from his pocket and began dabbing the spot, still staring at me as if waiting for something.

His stare seemed to reach deep inside me and pull at chords like I was an instrument. One he was curious about, though weary.

A dog’s excited bark echoed in the car park.

I glanced down to see the attacker walking away with his dog, and a sudden urge to chase the man down and hurt him flared through me.

“It’s not his fault.” The voice was light and curious, and I looked at him.

“His fists, his fault.”

My gaze flickered to the scar running through his right brow.

His smile faltered “Not always. Don’t you recognize me?”

“You played the accordion earlier. At Oriental Parade.”

He studied me, cocking his head to the side. The simple tilt made his hair fall slightly, covering half of one eye.

“Look,” I said. “I don’t want to pry, but why didn’t you block any of his punches? Why didn’t you run?”

The blood he’d wiped off left a smear on his chin. I reached in my pocket, ready to offer him the soap, when he said in a light tone, “I’ll never let him see me again. You can be sure on that.”

“Why did he do that?”

My busker shrugged. “He’s not a bad person. He lost his son.”

“That’s sad, but still no excuse.”

He stuffed his hanky back into his pocket. I watched his eyes narrow, as if he was hesitating to say something more. Then he shook his head and broadened his smile. “I’ve got to go. Maybe we’ll meet again.” He started toward the path.

“Thank you,” was the last thing he said before he dashed down the hill.