Title: Wounded Martyr
Author: Courtney Maguire
Publisher: NineStar Press
Release Date: December 16, 2019
Heat Level: 3 - Some Sex
Pairing: Male/Male
Length: 54300
Genre: Contemporary, LGBT, Contemporary, gay, rock star, musicians, tour, drug/alcohol use, addiction, friends to lovers, hurt/comfort
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Synopsis
Ice is an asshole, but he’s working on
it. He’s two years sober, no small feat when you front a heavy metal band
facing waning popularity and dismal ticket sales. But the pieces of a life torn
apart by alcoholism are finally coming back together. His band, Wounded Martyr,
has written a great album with the potential to launch them back into relevancy.
And Ricky, probably the biggest, most important piece, has finally forgiven him
for the wreck he made of their relationship. There’s only one problem.
Ashton.
It was to be expected. As his best
friend and bandmate for almost twenty years, it’s only natural they should find
each other in the loneliness of the road. Ricky knows about their one night
together, but he doesn’t know that Ice can’t stop thinking about it, about his
long body and whiskey-flavored lips, and the guilt of it has him on the brink
of backslide. Now that Wounded Martyr is poised for a long tour, Ice must find
a way to resist temptation or risk blowing their last chance and destroying his
relationship with the two most important men in his life.
Excerpt
Wounded Martyr
Courtney Maguire © 2019
All Rights Reserved
Everything hurt.
Hiding in our dingy dressing room
toilet, back pressed against the wall between the sink and the urinal, I read
wall graffiti to take my mind off my sore joints. Black Sharpie marker slander
tucked between worn band stickers. Jake is a pussy. For a good time, call.
Someone had scrawled SUX over a Wounded Martyr sticker in the corner. An old
one. Apparently, we’d played here before. I couldn’t remember.
House music vibrated through the wall,
and I pressed my shoulder blades into it. I gave a no-smoking sign the finger
and pulled a pack of cigarettes out of my pocket. This used to be my favorite
part, the anticipation in the moments before we hit the stage. Now, I shook
with a mix of adrenaline and dread that made me queasy.
“Ice!” A familiar voice cut through the
din followed by a rapid knock on the door. “Dude, you in there?”
I popped a cigarette between my lips.
“Fuck off, I’m taking a shit.”
The door opened anyway, and in slipped
Ashton. Ash. Hair in his face and dark liner around his eyes. Deep lines framed
his mouth, but his too-long limbs made him appear perpetually boyish. The way I
would always see him. The sixteen-year-old kid playing bass in his garage.
“You can’t smoke in here.”
I scowled and shoved the cig back in the
pack.
“Dante is going to lose his shit if you
don’t get out there,” he said, closing the door behind him. Dante, our
self-appointed fearless leader. If he wasn’t such a goddamned great guitarist,
I’d kick him in the teeth.
“Dante can suck my cock.”
“Pretty sure he’s not into that.” We
shared a laugh before his eyes pinched in concern. “How’s the voice?”
“Tired,” I answered on the tail end of
an exhale.
“You can make it, man.” He stepped
toward me. “Just three more shows, and we’re home.”
“Have you seen the house?”
“Yeah.”
“Is it full?”
He pressed his lips together, and those
lines around his mouth deepened.
“Shit.”
“Don’t sweat it.” He squeezed my arm.
“It’s a big house. It would be hard for anyone to fill. Besides, we’ve played
smaller.”
I nodded, but my stomach dropped into my
toes. Sure, we’d played smaller. I remembered playing crowds of twenty people,
ten of whom hated us. But we were eighteen with nowhere to go but up, and
nothing to lose. It felt different now.
Ash’s expression softened. “What do you
need?”
A drink.
“A blow job from John Stamos.”
“You and me both.” He hooked his hand
around the back of my neck and pressed our foreheads together. “You’ll be
great,” he said. “You are great. Just another day at the office, man, you got
this.”
I leaned into him and released a long
breath. Just another day. Another day I got to play rock and roll. Living the
dream, most would say. But even dreams didn’t last forever.
“What the fuck are you two doing in
there? Put your dicks away, and let’s go,” Dante’s gruff voice shouted from the
other side of the door. Ash shot me a mischievous grin and dropped to his knees
just as the door swung open. “What the fu—”
“Be right out, Boss,” I said, but he’d
already stomped off, spitting and cursing the whole way back to the dressing
room, his bright copper skin dark with an angry flush. I gave Ash a kick with
my heel, and he rolled over backward, tangled in his own legs and howling.
“Homophobes are fun,” he said between
gasps.
“You’re a prick,” I said, but I was
smiling, my earlier dread carried away in the stream of his laughter. Dante had
left the door open, and the house music pounded through me, ringing the tuning
fork inside. It was still there, thank God. I offered Ash a hand and hauled him
up.
“Ready to go?” he asked, his hand still
wrapped in mine.
“Let’s get to work.”
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Meet the Author
Courtney Maguire is a University of Texas graduate from Corpus Christi, Texas. Drawn to Austin by a voracious appetite for music, she spent most of her young adult life in dark, divey venues nursing a love for the sublimely weird. A self-proclaimed fangirl with a press pass, she combined her love of music and writing as the primary contributor for Japanese music and culture blog, Project: Lixx, interviewing Japanese rock and roll icons and providing live event coverage for appearances across the country. Her first novel, Wounded Martyr, is a 2019 RWA® Golden Heart® Finalist in the Contemporary Romance: Short Category.Facebook | Twitter | Instagram
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