Friday, 19 October 2012

Upstaged - Opening Act

Series Name:  Upstaged
Book Name:  Opening Act
Genre: Young Adult
Authors:  S.L.Danielson and Nephylim


Blurb: Erik is lead singer with The Von, an up and coming grunge band. He’s a big, brash American with the world at his feet and is so far in the closet he’s in Narnia. Then along comes snarky Brit, Asher and turns his world on its head. Well and truly upstaged, can Erik overcome his fear and is Asher just too damaged to be saved?


"Dude! What the fuck's wrong with you? You're interrupting our song!" He pointed behind him to the band members, all of whom had angry faces. Daisy pursed her lips and shook her head at her brother. Erik was clearly not happy. "You gonna answer me or what, man?" 

Asher blew another bubble and popped it loudly. The big American jerk was going red in the face. Good. He shrugged then, glancing over Erik's shoulder at Daisy's face, he sighed. "Maybe if the band was better I wouldn't be so bored."  He blew another, bigger, bubble which popped with a satisfying bang. If he tried hard maybe he could make him turn purple. Nah, who wanted to work that hard? He couldn't be bothered. Taking the gum out of his mouth, he stuck it on the garage wall.   

A blond brow went up as Erik crossed his arms tightly against his chest and harrumphed. "You sayin' something about my band? The one your own sister’s in?" He shook his head and inched closer to him. "Maybe, if you can't appreciate our music, you should get your ass outta here, Dasher. Or is it Ghostboy?"  Erik laughed at his own wit but was disappointed when it didn't seem to shake this guy one iota. 

"Just because my sister wants to hang around with a bunch of losers, doesn't mean they’re any good, only that she has really bad taste." 

Erik felt his temper rising; his blood nearly at boiling point. "Who the hell are you callin' a loser, you... you... emo! You gothic, whiny weirdo... freak!" 

Asher looked around, slowly, and then their eyes locked again. "I didn't hear anyone whine. But I did hear something squeak.  Was it you, little mouse?  If I'd closed my eyes I could have imagined I heard a creaky old gate up there on the stage, swinging in the breeze." 

* * *

Rage now coursed through Erik's veins; his Viking heritage coming to bear. He balled his fists and snorted, like a bull ready to spear the matador. Daisy tried to intervene. "Asher! Stop it right now or you'll be sorry!"  

""Not as sorry as this sorry looking excuse for a singer. More like a fifty year old karaoke singer after a packet of Woodbines." 

"That's it, you asshole! You're goin' down!" Erik yelled as he threw his full weight behind a huge, pale fist that packed the wallop of a freight train. He lunged forward to deliver the blow, when a hand stopped him. He paused, shocked and amazed; was it.... wtf? Who could stop his fist? Asher had. Somehow this waif had managed to stop him at full throttle... not an easy feat. 

His lips were open, his eyes wide as he took in his fist in Asher's small hand. Words escaped him as he was lost in the scintillating beauty of the teen's violet eyes. They were beautiful, haunting and seemed to hide a deep pain that no one could get near.  

Erik paused, his breath taken hostage by the moment. His eyes blinked, and he was shocked to find another sensation had taken center stage. He was being kissed! By Asher! He wanted to pull away at first, especially since they had an audience; yet he didn't. He wanted to stay. The lips were so soft, and despite the coldness of the ring, it didn't stop him. His demeanor softened and his fist uncurled in Asher's hand. Other parts of his anatomy made notice too; though he'd not dare say a word in front of this group.  

All too soon, the kiss ended, and Asher pulled away with a loud smacking sound. Erik stood in silence, his mind in a whirlwind, then he backed away slowly.  His lips opened and closed as he fought for words but, before he could utter any of them Asher's cool hand patted him on the side of the face in an almost patronizing manner and, with a cheeky wink he turned and walked away, calling over his shoulder to his sister. 

"I'm off, Dayz. Can't stand the boredom. Give me a ring when you're ready to be picked up. Try not to die of excitement." 



Nephylim was born into a poor mining family in the South Wales Valleys. Until she was 16, the toilet was at the bottom of the garden and the bath hung on the wall. Her refrigerator was a stone slab in the pantry and there was a black lead fireplace in the kitchen. They look lovely in a museum but aren’t so much fun to clean.

Nephylim has always been a storyteller. As a child, she’d make up stories for her nieces, nephews and cousin and they’d explore the imaginary worlds she created, in play.

Later in life, Nephylim became the storyteller for a re enactment group who travelled widely, giving a taste of life in the Iron Age. As well as having an opportunity to run around hitting people with a sword, she had an opportunity to tell stories of all kinds, sometimes of her own making, to all kinds of people. The criticism was sometimes harsh, especially from the children, but the reward enormous.
It was here she began to appreciate the power of stories and the primal need to hear them. In ancient times, the wandering bard was the only source of news, and the storyteller the heart of the village, keeping the lore and the magic alive. Although much of the magic has been lost, the stories still provide a link to the part of us that still wants to believe that it’s still there, somewhere.

In present times, Nephylim lives in a terraced house in the valleys with her son and her two cats. Her daughter has deserted her for the big city, but they’re still close. The part of her that needs to earn money is a lawyer, but the deepest, and most important part of her is a storyteller and artist, and always will be.

Nephylim can be found at

S.L. Danielson

S.L. Danielson began writing at the tender age of seven. She knew it was her calling from the moment she put pen to paper. In her teens she began writing alternative works and the genre stuck. She also wove more elaborate tales and finally, in her college years, began spin her new love of male romance into longer novels.

She is clasically trained in business and accounting and is currently a graduate student. Her other hobbies include cycling, gaming and spending time with her husband and two cherished cats.

Contact S.L. At

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