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He’s destined to meet his mate on a killer vacation.
Horror author Mason Wells is having a midlife crisis. He’s burned out as a writer and he keeps falling for guys who are way too young for him. So when his agent, Nora, arranges a birthday getaway for him and a few close friends in the Spanish Sierra Nevada, it’s just the break he needs—until Nora is found drowned in the hotel swimming pool. It seems like someone has a hit list of victims, and Mason’s on it. Can the hotel’s gorgeous owner, Xavi, step in and keep Mason safe?
Lion shifter Xavi Bianco loves the peace and solitude of his boutique hotel in the mountains. It’s a shame the place still holds the memory of his ex, Ramón. When the group of brash Americans arrives for a vacation, he doesn’t expect to find himself falling for one of them. But everything tells him Mason Wells is his destined mate, bizarre as it may be, and when Mason’s friends fall victim to a series of horrific attacks, Xavi knows he must do everything to protect Mason, even if it means risking his own life…
Reader Advisory: This book contains scenes of violence and peril.
General Release Date: 5th July 2016
You can do this. It’s going to be fine.
Mason stared in the mirror, silently repeating his mantra as the makeup girl pressed a powder puff to his face. He hated appearing on television, and even though he’d come to regard it as a necessary evil, the thought of the hot studio lights beating down on him still made him sick to his stomach. The glass of wine he’d been given in the green room hadn’t done anything to calm his nerves and he’d have turned on his heels and fled if he hadn’t known his meltdown would be all over the Internet gossip blogs within minutes.
The door opened and a young man wearing a microphone headset popped his head around it. “They’re ready for you, Mr. Wells. If you’d like to come with me…”
Butterflies fluttered in Mason’s belly. He willed them away. “Of course.”
The makeup artist removed a bib, designed to catch any errant traces of foundation or powder, from around his neck. Mason eased out of the chair.
“I’m Chad,” the newcomer said.
Mason nodded his acknowledgment. The production company seemed to employ any number of gofers designed to show guests to the studio or fetch water and snacks if they needed them. They all had the same keen-eyed look and peppy enthusiasm, even though he suspected they were mostly interns struggling to make minimum wage. This guy was, admittedly, cuter than anyone else who’d been looking after him tonight, with his long, dirty-blond hair and pale green eyes. Just my type, even if he is twenty years too young for me.
They walked down a long corridor, decorated on both sides with gilt-framed photos of the network’s biggest stars. Late Tonight was the jewel in their crown. It had been on air for nearly three decades, setting the standard for late-night chat. Four months ago, the job of hosting the show had gone to Johnny Lorimer, an English stand-up comedian and actor best known for his role in the low-budget horror spoof, Ben Pringle: Pig Killer. Critics had been skeptical as to whether American audiences would warm to Johnny’s style, but he’d delivered a huge boost to the show’s ratings and Hollywood A-listers were queuing up to take part. Only last week, the President of the United States himself had appeared as a guest.
“I’m really stoked we’ve got you on tonight, Mr. Wells. I’m such a big fan of your work.”
He’d heard that comment so many times before, but Mason still preened inwardly. Writers were notoriously insecure, and he was no exception. These days, with so much focus on Facebook friends, Twitter followers and Amazon ratings, it seemed his fellow authors were more desperate than ever to be liked. Quality of our work be damned. We just want to be popular. Fortunately, his sales were healthy enough to convince him he was doing something right.
“Thanks, er—” Mason struggled to recall the gofer’s name.
“Chad,” the young man replied. He didn’t seem in the least offended. Mason supposed that when you were at the bottom of the pile in any profession, lack of recognition came as part of the job.
They were approaching the main studio. From behind the big double doors, Mason could hear the show’s house band performing a funky version of Madonna’s Like a Virgin.
“Okay, they’ll be going into an ad break in a moment,” Chad said. “I’ll take you inside, you’ll be mic’d up, and when we come back from the ads, Johnny’s going to introduce you. That’s when you walk over to take your seat on the couch.”
Mason nodded. He’d been here once before, during the long-running reign of its previous host, the veteran comedian Rich O’Malley. On that appearance, he’d been talking about his first novel. Hard to believe that was only four years ago. So much had changed since then. His publishing company had him contracted to produce a book a year, and each one had done better than the one before. But it meant he’d been on a treadmill of writing, editing and marketing his work without a break. At least he could console himself with the thought that this interview was the last date on his current promotional tour. Tonight, he’d be sleeping in his own bed for the first time in seven weeks.
“So, Chad, have you read The Scarlet Harvest yet?” he asked, needing to keep his mind occupied so he didn’t start thinking about all the things that might go wrong once he was on air. He might trip over his own feet on the way to the couch, or the words might dry up the second he opened his mouth…
Chad shook his head. “No, sir. A copy was sent to the office, but Johnny took it to read and that’s the last we saw of it.”
“Well, I tell you what. How about I sort you out your own signed book after the show? Call it my apology for forgetting your name.”
He didn’t add that it would offer him the excuse to spend a little more time in Chad’s company. Mason’s gaydar had never been the most acute, but he didn’t need it to tell him that Chad’s sidelong glances were down to more than just being in the presence of an author he admired.
“Oh, wow. That would be awesome.” The music had come to an end, replaced by wild applause and whooping. “Okay, here we go. You’re on. Good luck, Mr. Wells.”
“Thanks, Chad.” I’m going to need it.
Elizabeth Coldwell is a multi-published author and editor whose stories have appeared in a number of best-selling anthologies. She has written novels in a variety of different genres, from paranormal to BDSM and contemporary romance. She is the former editor of the UK edition of Forum magazine and the proud winner of an International Leather Award. When she is not busy writing, she is an avid supporter of Rotherham United Football Club and can be regularly found on the terraces at weekends, cheering her boys to victory (hopefully!).
Find her online at The (Really) Naughty Corner, http://elizabethcoldwell.wordpress.com
Reviewed by Inked Rainbow Reads
This was a good story with an amazing love story. Cannot wait till the next book comes out.
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Reviewed by Rainbow Book Reviews
If you enjoy watching two strangers fall into lust, then love, despite the stressful and dangerous events that seem designed to keep them apart, if you think that a successful horror writer and a lio...
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