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On The Outside
Louise Lyons
Release date: April 30, 2016
Blurb:
When Craig Ferguson is released from prison
after a year’s sentence for fighting, he returns home to his father and
brother, and the family business. Throwing himself back into the life he left,
with family, work, and women, Craig tries to forget his time on the inside, but
there’s one thing he just can’t get out of his mind.
Cell mate, Rocky Kirk, still has six months
of his sentence to go, and after a year together in a tiny cell, Craig misses
him more than he cares to admit. He does his best to forget, but when Rocky is
released, and arrives on Craig’s doorstep, homeless and hurt, everything that
happened between them comes flooding back.
Craig’s family takes in Rocky, now known as
Kirk, and gives him a home and a job, but he’s reluctant to join in with their
partying, and never seems entirely comfortable in their home. A few months
later Kirk announces he has to leave, and when Craig presses him for an explanation,
Kirk blurts out that his unwanted feelings for his friend are hurting him too
much to stay. His admission changes everything, but Craig’s uncertainty, and
fears of his father discovering their secret, threatens to ruin anything that
could develop between them.
Categories: Contemporary, M/M
Romance, Gay Fiction
34,000 words
Publisher: Louise Lyons
Cover Artist: Simon Searle
Excerpt:
I turned away from him, barged past Dad, and
took the stairs two at a time. The bathroom door shook in its frame when I
kicked it shut behind me. My temper rapidly subsided, and I risked a peek at
myself in the mirror above the sink. The color in my face faded, leaving me
pale and wild-eyed, breathing hard. What the hell just happened?
I replayed the scene in my head, starting
with the almost-kiss between Stuart and Catherine. Was there something between
them? Was it really nothing? Was I pissed off because she was supposed to be
dating me, or was I actually hurt? I didn't feel hurt. It didn't seem that
important anymore. She probably wouldn't want to see me again after my outburst
and I wasn't convinced I minded all that much. What the fuck did that say about
us? The more I thought about it, the more I realized I was only angry with
myself, mostly because when I’d finally got what I wanted, I didn’t want it
that much anymore.
"Craig?" A gentle tap came on the
door. Kirk.
My rapid heartrate escalated, and I scowled
at my reflection. "Leave me alone."
"Come on, that hand needs looking
at."
Sighing, I sat on the edge of the bath.
"Come in."
Kirk slipped into the room and closed the
door behind him. "Are you okay?"
"Yeah, just fucking brilliant."
"I'm sorry."
"You didn't do anything."
"You know what I mean. Do you think
there's anything going on with her and Stuart?"
"How the fuck should I know? It looked
like it, didn't it?" I shrugged and blew my breath out hard. "I don't
fucking care anyway."
"I thought you liked her."
"Yeah, well. Maybe I should have stuck
with the one-nighters."
"You don't mean that. I thought you
wanted a relationship."
"I don't wanna talk about it." I
didn’t want to think about it anymore either. My hand stung like a bastard, and
I noticed for the first time that blood was dripping all over the tiles under
my feet. Before I could move, Kirk grabbed a folded towel, placed it on my knee
and laid my hand on it, palm down.
"There's a lot of glass in there."
"You reckon you can get it out?"
"I'll try." He found tweezers and
tissues in the bathroom cabinet, and dropped to his knees at my feet. Some of
the droplets of blood soaked into his jeans and I grimaced.
"You're getting blood on you."
"It'll wash." He dabbed carefully
at the back of my hand, and the tissues turned red. "This looks bad. You
might need stitches."
"I'll be all right." I clenched my
teeth as he plucked out the first glass splinter and looked around for
somewhere to put it. I reached for Dad's can of shaving foam and flipped off
the lid. "Put them in there."
Kirk dropped each tiny piece of glass into
the lid, and I counted eighteen pieces before Dad spoke from outside the door.
"Do you need to go to the
hospital?"
"No. Thanks. Kirk's fixing it."
"Right. Good." His feet thudded on
the stairs as he returned to the football match.
"I'm missing the match."
Kirk looked up at me and grinned, his brown
eyes twinkling. "You'd rather bleed to death than miss the football?"
"Yeah, probably."
"I think I got it all."
"What?"
"The glass. I think I got it all
out." I dropped my gaze as he dabbed at the myriad tiny wounds with the
wad of tissue. "Does it feel like there's anything still in there?"
"No."
"I think I saw some bandages in the
cabinet." Kirk got up and rifled through the cupboard. I stayed where I
was until he kneeled down again and placed a dressing on the back of my hand.
"Hold that there a minute."
"Were you a paramedic in a previous
life?"
"I did a first aid course a few years
ago. I can remember most of it." He wrapped a bandage around my hand,
binding the dressing in place and making a surprisingly neat job of it. When it
was done he stayed where he was, and I realized he was holding my bandaged hand
in both of his and stroking my palm with one thumb. A few strands of hair had
escaped the knot on the back of his head, and I had a sudden urge to tuck them
behind his ear. I held my breath, staring at the top of his bent head. The only
sound in the room was his breathing, and the intermittent drip from the bath
tap that had needed fixing for a while.
"Thanks." The word came out
croaky, my mouth so dry I could barely speak at all.
"No problem." Kirk jerked away,
dropping my hand as if it had burnt him. Snatching up the wad of tissues, he
tossed them into the toilet, and used the bloody towel to mop the floor. I
stayed where I was until he opened the door and left me alone. His bedroom door
opened and closed, and I made my way downstairs. I felt less concerned about my
likely imminent break-up with Catherine, than I was about the moment in the
bathroom.
What the hell happened? Maybe nothing. Maybe
something. Did he still think about what happened between us and try not to?
Jerk off and try not to remember me fucking him? Did he feel anything when he
held my hand and stroked my palm, then jumped away? Jesus Christ. My heart
hammered, and this time when I told myself it didn’t mean anything, and that I
just kept remembering the person I’d been close to on the inside, it didn’t
work.
Buy the book
Let’s check out this author…
Louise Lyons comes from a family of writers.
Her mother has a number of poems published in poetry anthologies, her aunt
wrote poems for the church, and her grandmother sparked her inspiration with
tales of fantasy. Louise first ventured into writing short stories at the grand
old age of eight, mostly about little girls and ponies. She branched into
romance in her teens, and MM romance a few years later, but none of her work
saw the light of day until she discovered FanFiction in her late twenties.
Posting stories based on some of her
favorite movies, provoked a surprisingly positive response from readers. This
gave Louise the confidence to submit some of her work to publishers, and made
her take her writing “hobby” more seriously.
Louise lives in the UK, about an hour north
of London, with a collection of tropical fish and tarantulas. She works in the
insurance industry by day, and spends every spare minute writing. She is a keen
horse-rider, and loves to run long-distance. Some of her best writing inspiration
comes to her, when her feet are pounding the open road. She often races into
the house afterward, and grabs pen and paper to make notes.
Louise has always been a bit of a tomboy,
and one of her other great loves is cars and motorcycles. Her car and bike are
her pride and joy, and she loves to exhibit the car at shows, and take off for
long days out on the bike, with no one for company but herself.
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