Title: First Sight
Series: Sight, Book One
Author: Jordan Taylor
Publisher: NineStar Press
Release Date: May 21, 2018
Heat Level: 2 - Fade to Black Sex
Pairing: Male/Male
Length: 54,300
Genre: Contemporary, romance, contemporary, honeymoon, disability, Amsterdam
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Synopsis
Despite misgivings, newlyweds Noah and
Archer set out for a dream honeymoon in Amsterdam with a shoestring budget and
negligible travel experience between them. All goes well until they leave home.
Noah, who once hoped to become a comic
book or graphic novel illustrator, is completely blind due to a degenerative
eye disease and has rarely left the Seattle area since his diagnosis. While
Archer has never previously traveled for longer than a weekend with Noah along.
Reaching the Netherlands, they face a
chaotic world better suited to a particularly alert cat than a young blind man
and his novice guide. If the physical fear and stresses of public
transportation and city streets are not bad enough, Noah and Archer find even
their marriage threatened by the daily battle they wage without and within
their own relationship.
Includes a bonus story! Go back to the
beginning with the prequel and see how Noah and Archer first met and how their
relationship evolved.
Excerpt
First Sight
Jordan Taylor © 2018
All Rights Reserved
Chapter One
“Dr. Chamaeleo?” Archer jabbed my
shoulder with two fingers. “Really? How many superheroes or villains already
exist who have chameleon or camouflage or shapeshifter abilities and names?”
“Meaning it’s a classic,” I said. “Who
gets tired of shifters?”
“I don’t know. You can do better, Noah.
I thought you said you wanted to create a blind superhero. Where’s that guy?”
I didn’t answer for a minute, distracted
by the plane’s engine, voices of passengers concealed by the roar, and an
infant crying a dozen rows ahead of us.
Archer shifted beside me, probably
looking out the window. We had a whole row of three to ourselves, having
followed advice from my father about booking a window and aisle seat toward the
tail of the plane. The middle seat never sold, leaving us room to roam.
Archer insisted he wanted an aisle. He
liked to be able to move. Really, I was beginning to wonder if he was
claustrophobic. I had never known that about him. Maybe that was the point of
these trips? Getting to know everything you had missed about one another before
the vows.
Not as if I could enjoy the view, so he
had taken the window while he could still see the vanishing Cascade Mountains
or ocean or British Columbia. I wasn’t even sure which direction the plane was
taking. North or east?
I had badgered him to read the opening
scene—first page, first draft—of my masterpiece in progress while we waited to
board. We’d been interrupted by irksome matters like getting on the plane and
settling in and taking off. After all the waiting, Archer had finally said
something. Yet, now I had a funny feeling about the whereabouts of all that
admiring praise I’d been expecting.
What if Archer did not appreciate how
much work it had been, writing that first page?
“I did,” I said about the hero question.
“I just… I’m not sure—” I shrugged. “No one wants to read about a blind
superhero.”
“That’s your motivation now? ‘No one
wants to read it’?” I could not hear Archer sigh over the noise of the plane,
but I was sure he did. “I thought this was for fun. What difference does it
make if nameless strangers want to read your comic book? One step at a time,
Noah. Isn’t the point of the outline writing what you care about? Next, you’ll
be telling me your hero isn’t even gay.”
“I just don’t think blind will work.” I
felt into the now empty aisle seat to my right for my water bottle.
“That’s mine,” Archer said as I removed
the cap.
“It is not. I tore the paper on mine so
I could feel it.” I drank. “You’re such a dickhead sometimes.”
He chuckled.
“What would I do besides enhanced
non-sight senses? Hence, a Daredevil ripoff?” I asked, carefully twisting the
cap back in place. “It’s been done before. Anyway, don’t you think a gay, blind
superhero is a bit much?”
“Maybe for the 1970s. You just said it:
so much has been done before. It’s time for a blind gay superhero. Not to
mention a few leading women who dress like normal people in safe, practical
costumes. Not bras and shin guards to fight all the creatures of the
underworld.”
“Your views are too radical for today’s
fantasy audience—”
“First of all, that’s not even true.”
Now he just sounded irritated. “There are a lot of smart people in the world
who are fed up with panty heroines, and there are gay superheroes around
already. Second, I told you to stop with the audience bit. If you’re not doing
this outline for yourself, who, exactly, are you writing for?”
I sat in silence, leaned close to him at
the window so we could hear one another.
Of course I couldn’t admit it, but that
was a damn good question. When, and how, had I gotten it in my head that I
wanted to develop my comic book idea with an artist and actually publish? I
wasn’t sure, but…there it was.
I had somehow regressed over ten years
to junior high when I had read everyone from Chris Claremont to Jim Lee, Frank
Miller, and Tim Truman, then drew and wrote my own, filling sketchbook after
sketchbook. A long, long time ago. Yet, apparently, not as long as I’d led
myself to believe.
So was I interested in seriously writing
a comic book? Even if I could no longer be my own artist? Even if I had to
collaborate with someone else, whose work I would never see? It sounded like a horrible
idea. So I felt surprised to discover that I was unsure of the answer.
I said none of this to Archer. I had
told him I wanted to do an outline just for fun and I’d welcome his feedback,
and for now, that was the story I was sticking to. Trouble was, Archer hadn’t
given much feedback. Asking where the blind guy was and why I cared about a
mythical audience? Not helping.
“Anything else?” I asked. “About the
first page?”
“No.”
“Except?” I prompted. I knew that tone.
“Except…” Maybe a shrug? “You know.”
“No. That’s why I asked for your
feedback. I’m just starting outlines and scenes and characters. Now’s the
time.”
“Well.” Like a sentence. Like, No.
“Yes?”
“You know Whiteout is an office supply,
right? No one is going to think of blizzards or anything if that’s what you’re
going for.”
“I thought of blizzards.”
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Meet the Author
Author of fiction from short stories to epics, designer of award-winning book covers, lover of travel and ice cream, Jordan finds it easier to write a novel than remember to keep up a blog. She writes historical fiction (mostly World War One and steampunk), contemporary fiction from dog stories to thrillers, paranormal, occasional romance, and young adult titles. Her series include Lightfall, Great War Centennial, and the best-selling Angel Paws stories.Website | Twitter
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