Cover & Excerpt Reveal
Shooting Stars Book Three
Mistakes from the past, feelings denied, and a career on the rise may doom their relationship before it has a chance.
Kyrie is an actor with a physical aversion to telling lies, a one-eyed cat, and horrible taste in men. His ex-brother-in-law and best friend, Greg, harbors a secret crush he can’t shake. After denying his feelings for Kyrie for too long, Greg finally gives in to desire one drunken night. Come the morning, the facts get twisted. Kyrie pretends he doesn’t remember a thing—a lie that eats him alive—and Greg can’t stop thinking about how he screwed up the best thing in his life.
Before they can clear the air, Kyrie follows his dreams to New York City, but could he also be running away?
A mistake from Kyrie’s past detonates their silence, and Greg is forced to confront the man he loves. Is their new truth strong enough to support a relationship, or are they doomed to crumble under old fears? Their friendship could evolve into something a million times stronger, but maybe Kyrie’s act is just too hard for Greg to follow.
Genre: Contemporary Romance
Content/Theme(s): M/M, Actors, Interracial, Friends to lovers
Release Date: August 18, 2014
Publisher: Liquid Silver Books
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“Beer!” Kyrie came from Greg’s small kitchen with two fists full of Sierra Nevada IPA. “Last two— You need to do better, buddy.”
“I try not to keep a ton of alcohol—”
“Yeah, yeah. But this is why we never hang here.” Kyrie turned around, arms spread, still laden with pale ale. “And this…” He spun around. “Is so much classier than my dump. Game nights would be sweet over on the swanky side of town, bro.”
“I let you and the other riffraff over here every other week, and the swanky side of town just took a turn for the worse.”
Liar. You let Kyrie over here and he’ll drink too much and pass out on your bed. That’s why you avoid this shit—because you can always leave his place with your blue balls and your pathetic fantasies. But Kyrie here is a live hand grenade. Duck and cover.
“Catch!” Kyrie tossed the beer underhand, and Greg barely managed to grab it with uncoordinated fingers.
“Watch it!” Greg bent to set the beer on his glass coffee table, heart thumping for a thousand reasons.
“You deserve an exploded brew for that comment.” Kyrie popped his bottle cap with a keychain opener that screamed arrest me. He dropped his keys on the table beside Greg’s beer while looking up at him with an intense stare. “Is that why you’ve been avoiding me lately? Tired of playing with the riffraff across town?” Kyrie smirked, but pain touched his voice and eyes.
“No, man. You know I’m busy as hell. I didn’t mean that about game night…”
“You totally did.” He narrowed his amber gaze at Greg. “Kilborne’s a slob, and he and Liv would lick your fridge clean. Their combined eating forces are the stuff of legend.”
“It’s weird. She does have an amazing appetite for a girl her size.”
“It’s her thyroid, lucky bitch. Big eyes and a stick figure. She looks like a freakin’ anime.”
Greg grinned, reaching for his beer as he sat heavily on the couch. He recalled its tumultuous state and set it back on the table.
Kyrie plopped down next to him, his knee brushing Greg’s despite the vacant cushion to the guy’s left. “Here. I said I was gonna get you good and drunk.” He took a quick tug and then pushed his bottle into Greg’s hand.
“I really don’t need it. I’m there.”
“You need something. To relax. Chill out. Live a freakin’ little. Something.” Kyrie knocked his knee into Greg’s and his hand slipped off the beer and fell onto Greg’s thigh.
“I’m… relaxed.” But the buzz was suddenly scattered by apprehension. Kyrie couldn’t be this close—touching him. Rubbing the inside of my goddamn thigh!
“Chug it.” Kyrie leaned over, his breath hoppy and sweet, his top lip still glistening from the last sip he’d taken. Greg sucked in a wavering inhalation.
The hand on his leg inched higher and squeezed while Kyrie grasped the glass over Greg’s fingers and led it to his lips.
Greg opened his mouth and managed to take a sip without choking, miracle of miracles.
“Good dog.” Kyrie grinned wickedly less than a foot from Greg’s face. He took the beer back and brought it to his own lips, the tip of his pink tongue darting out to lick the glass where Greg’s mouth had just been.
Greg almost whimpered as Kyrie sucked back a mouthful, his gaze glued to Greg’s the whole while.
Like porn when the chick maintains eye contact while giving head. Wonder if guys do that in gay movies. Despite the strange sexual attraction simmering inside him—the one that had him jerking off to visions of Kyrie way too often—Greg hadn’t had the balls to look for gay stroke films. He wasn’t even sure he’d find them appealing. He’d never even considered sleeping with men until Kyrie came along and flipped his world over like a sore loser tossing a board game.
All he knew was Kyrie’s puckered lower lip wrapped erotically around the bottle top. Paired with his gorgeous, almost challenging golden-brown stare, it sent a surge of blood to Greg’s dick so hot and fast it made him lightheaded.
“What are you looking at?” It was too close to Greg’s dream. Way too fucking close. And so was Kyrie. But instead of Greg reaching out and grasping nothing but ghost, Kyrie’s hand on his thigh pressed hard, real and reassuring. Instigating. It slid slowly inside and up while Kyrie lifted his eyebrows in question, his sweet mouth forming a tiny O that made Greg desperate to kiss him.
Greg tried to swallow, but the lump in the back of his throat didn’t move—wouldn’t allow for speech. He took a shallow breath that caught when Kyrie’s pinky wisped over his bulging cockhead. Kyrie placed the beer on the coffee table with his free hand while that little finger flirted over Greg’s ridge like it was reading braille. Reading Greg’s perverted mind through his khakis.
“Kyr—” he croaked.
“Shhh.” Kyrie leaned closer, a full hand stroking up Greg’s hard-on. “Don’t.” His lips skimmed across Greg’s, warm, soft, and tremor inducing. Greg inhaled sharply, maybe to work out a final cry for reason, but any remaining resistance fell away as Kyrie’s familiar scent overwhelmed him. Instead, he groaned as that knowledgeable hand squeezed him through his pants, and those seductive lips, a bare hint of stubble peppered above the upper one, touched down again to ply and cajole without words.
Kyrie bit Greg’s bottom lip between his teeth, stretching it out before sucking it inside his mouth. Greg moaned again and his hands were on him, wrapped around his waist and pulling him to straddle his lap.
Kyrie’s grip slid off Greg’s dick and wound up in his hair, kneading the back into tight fists as he reached for Greg’s tongue with his own, his face twisting obliquely to maximize their contact.
Greg dragged him closer, pressing up against Kyrie’s heat while palming his tight ass. Lips wrapped around Greg’s tongue, Kyrie sucked as Greg ground their dicks together in an act utterly frustrating and perfect all at once.
Lightning will strike me. Right here. Zap me straight to hell and I don’t fucking care.
Greg made a deep, throaty noise like he was bench pressing at the gym. He couldn’t help the raw sounds tearing from him. Behind his lids, his eyes crossed, and inside his pants, his cock dripped like a leaking faucet.
Kyrie rolled his hips, his sweet ass dancing under Greg’s hands while the weight of his hard dick bumped and stroked against Greg’s.
Greg pulled his mouth away. “Fuck… Oh my God, Kyr.” But it wasn’t an Oh my God, Kyr, what are we doing? It was an Oh my God, Kyr, you’re making me fucking come-in-my-pants crazy. An Oh my God, Kyr, please don’t say no to what I want to do to you. Need to do to you.
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