Title: What It Seems
Author: Sydney Blackburn
Publisher: NineStar Press
Release Date: May 21, 2018
Heat Level: 1 - No Sex
Pairing: Male/Male
Length: 19,700
Genre: Contemporary, ace, bisexual, romance, self-discovery
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Synopsis
Michael’s straight and infatuated with a
woman he worked with one day, over a year ago. But when he finally sees her
again, he’s astounded that the woman of his dreams is a man in drag.
Darcy is ace and not interested in
dating anyone, so he and Michael just hang out. A lot. When he needs to do an
on-screen kissing scene, Michael is the best person to ask for help.
Michael soon discovers he isn’t as
straight as he thought he was, and Darcy likes kissing him a little too much
for someone certain he never would. Those are a lot of changes to accept, but
they just might be worth it.
Excerpt
What It Seems
Sydney Blackburn © 2018
All Rights Reserved
Chapter One
Michael Eden did not believe in love at
first sight—it was a completely ridiculous notion. First came attraction, or
lust if one was to be blunt about it, then a discovery of shared interests and
a passion for discussing opposite interests. And from that, an intimate history
of shared experiences. There was a science to it, right down to the feeling.
And that was cool; it was still a wonderful, magical thing, but it didn’t just
happen instantly.
He believed that right up until the day
he found himself on the closed set for a music video, dancing a complex
choreography around the love of his life. She wasn’t the most beautiful woman
he’d ever seen—she was slim to the point of being flat-chested, and her jaw was
a little too square. But she had long dark-brown hair that hung in heavy waves
around her shoulders, sexy legs, and her eyes, dear god, her eyes. Big and
cinnamon brown, surrounded by long dark lashes. One look in those eyes and
Michael Eden had lost his heart forever.
When filming ended, though, he couldn’t
find her. All he knew was her first name. Darcy.
Over a year later, without ever finding
her again, he still dreamed about her regularly. Dreamed of her eyes closing as
her lips pressed to his, of her slender body against his. Dreamed her breasts
barely apples in his hands, tiny, with perfect, rosy nipples. Sometimes his
dreams were explicit enough to wake up covered in spunk, which was worse when
he’d spent the night with a woman as much like his beloved Darcy as he’d been
able to find.
They never satisfied him, not really,
and he’d stopped picking up women for what was basically masturbation. Oh, he
tried to make sure they got off, too, not because he wanted to please them so
much as he felt guilty for pretending they were someone else. It wasn’t worth
it.
His current gig was a production of Bite
Me! at the Mermaid Theatre. He was assistant choreographer in addition to
leading the chorus dancers, and while it wasn’t headline fame, it was
satisfying. In fact, if he could just forget Darcy, his life would be close to
perfect.
He shook his head briefly as he pedalled
his bike home from the theatre. Maybe he should seek professional help. He
grimaced, hating the very idea of a psychiatrist.
His phone chose that moment to chime. He
knew it was Dave by the ringtone, and that it was a text by the vibration.
Nothing he had to stop and answer.
He was sweating by the time he locked
his bike into the sheltered rack behind his building and climbed the back
stairs. It was a small three-story walk-up, built in the early fifties. His
apartment still had a milk door outside the kitchen, although it had been long
since blocked off and screwed shut. He couldn’t imagine someone carting crates
of milk bottles up those stairs every morning to deliver to the apartments.
He flipped the air conditioner switch to
suck out the July heat, put a pot of water on to boil for his mac and cheese,
and took a quick shower before checking Dave’s text—it just read: Call me when
u get a chance.
Michael finished his supper,
supplementing the boxed meal with a small plastic clamshell of blackberries.
His laptop was playing tunes in the background, and he left it on as he called
Dave.
“Sup?”
“Michael! Hey, listen I need a favour.”
“Anything, buddy.”
“They’re going to be fumigating my
place, so we all need to bug out for a couple of days. I was wondering if I
could stay with you?”
Michael had a tiny one-bedroom
apartment, and he knew he was lucky to be able to afford it. Most guys he knew
had roommates or lived in apartments so small their kitchen was their bedroom.
Dave could crash on his couch or sleep in his bed. Dave was gay and he was
straight, but they’d been friends forever, and sleeping in the same bed was no
big deal.
He and Dave had swapped hand jobs on
occasion and once, while drunk, blowjobs. Dave had told Michael he was
bisexual. Michael didn’t feel bisexual, though—more like an open-minded
straight guy. Jerking another guy to relieve some horniness wasn’t the same as
thinking guys were hot or wanting to date one.
“It’s not like we have sex,” he’d
protested.
“Bro, even if your definition of sex is
limited to dicks going into another person’s bodily orifice, blowjobs count.”
Michael had rolled his eyes and shook
his head. “One time. It was one time. And alcohol was involved.”
“River in Egypt.”
He and Dave could sleep in the same bed
with nothing remotely sexual too. They were friends, and once in a rare while,
they shared special benefits and that was it.
Now he said, “How many days?”
“Two, three at the most. I guess ants
are almost as hard to kill as roaches. That a problem? You finally got a real
girlfriend?”
Michael laughed. “Nah. Still waiting to
find the woman of my dreams.” He took a split second to think about it and
said, “Of course you can stay.”
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Meet the Author
Sydney Blackburn is a binary star
system. Always a voracious reader, she began to write when she couldn’t find
the stories she wanted to read. She likes candlelit dinners and long walks on
the beach… Oh wait, wrong profile. She’s a snarky introvert and admits to
having a past full of casual sex and dubious hookups, which she uses for her
stories.
She likes word play and puns and
science-y things. And green curry.
Her dislikes include talking on the
phone, people trying to talk to her before she’s had coffee, and filling out
the “about me” fields in social media.
Besides writing, she also designs book
covers for poor people.
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