Due to a tad of miscommunication, we were taken by surprise with this release. It's out today guys! Head over to eXtasy and get your cope and find out what our boys are up to now.
WARNING: This book contains serious issues of mental health and suicide. Also, there is some stereotyping of women with regard to taking over weddings.
Blurb
You think you’re holding someone close, but if you’re not paying attention, they could slip right out of your arms and fall.
Asher and Erik are getting married, but Asher isn’t happy about the pressure being put on him by their families and unwittingly by Erik himself. Issues that have plagued him for a long time come bubbling to the surface and threaten to overwhelm him. Although he cries out for help, no one hears; instead they write it off as Asher throwing a tantrum again. Only Angel sees the cracks, but it’s too much for him to handle on his own, although he tries.
The pressure builds, and even though there are breakouts, still no one sees the extent of the problem until the night before the wedding, when Asher is confronted by Erik in front of all their family and friends, and bolts.
Fortunately, Asher is rescued by Vince’s Uncle Tony, who makes him an offer he can’t refuse.
The Band heads off to London for a three-month tour, and not everyone is happy about it. Vince is stressed out and worried that Angel is not being entirely faithful. Should he say something? Then Connor meets an old friend, just when he starts having doubts about his relationship with Angel, and the fur starts to fly.
Will any of the couples survive?
Excerpt
“So, how’re the final touches on the
wedding coming, guys?”
Erik waggled his eyebrows in mock horror.
“For heaven sake, Vince. Don’t say the W word in front of Asher. He
might explode…or kill someone.”
Asher punched him in the arm, none too
gently, and scowled. “I told you from the very start this would get out of hand
and we’d have been better off eloping. But no, Mr. Von Nordgren had to have his
day in the spotlight. Not as if he doesn’t have enough of them. I knew damn
well as soon as the women got their hands on it, things would get out of
control.” He said women as if it was a swear word. “I feel like I’ve
been catapulted into hell and surrounded by she-demons, constantly beating me
over the head with seating plans and menus and flowers.” He shuddered. “Can you
believe my mother actually believes she’s going to get me into a suit?”
“And so she will,” Daisy said, firmly.
“It’s your wedding. You have to be smart.”
“What’s smart about wearing a suit? When
have you ever seen me wearing a suit?”
“At Grandma’s funeral.”
“It wasn’t a suit. It was black slacks and
a vintage jacket with silver buttons and—”
“It was close to a suit,” Daisy snapped,
“and this time it’s your wedding.” She sat back as if the point was decided.
“And, because it’s my wedding, how about
cutting me a bit of slack?” Asher growled back. “You’ve already blown every
idea I’ve had about the stupid wedding right out of the water and if you really
think—”
Daisy huffed. “Your ideas have been
ridiculous. Who gets married at midnight in a cave with the officiant dressed
as death?”
“I do,” Asher said grimly. “Or rather, I
don’t.”
“We’ve reached compromises—”
“Compromises? You mean you’ve thrown me a
few scraps, like agreeing to have the wedding in the evening, putting some
black serviettes on the table, and going for red roses instead of white ones.
Big deal. Well, I’m warning you, keep pushing me and you’ll be sorry. If you
force that fucking suit on me, I’ll walk down the aisle in a dress.”
Vince nearly dropped his drink. “Oh gawd,
Asher. I shudder to think what else you’d wear. You’re at the very least—er,
how can I put it—shocking with what you choose to wear.”
Billy nodded. “Truth there, baby. You
looked smokin’ hot at our wedding, but I can’t fathom what you’d wear to yours
if you had the chance. Something toeing the line of legality, I’m sure.” He laughed.
“Aw, Ash. You’re setting a bad example for Angel. That boy looks up to you, you
know.”
“Tsk, tsk. Must behave now, mustn’t we?”
Vince joked, catching the scowl Asher sent to Billy.
Thankfully, Asher smiled
and relaxed back into his seat. He was such a powder keg lately, and the last
thing Vince wanted was a stand-up row. “You’re not the only ones, you know. Our
mothers took
over our wedding, and the hens clucked so damn much together over
it they became best friends.” He chuckled, lost in memories.
“Sure did. How are yours getting along?
Have you had much of a chance to help out, Daisy, or have the moms just hoarded
it all?”
“Are you serious?” Asher said, still hyper.
“She’s a fucking woman, of course she’s doing her bit to help. And as
for our mothers…” He shuddered. “You’d swear they were twins separated at
birth.”
“Whoa, there. Just simmer down, Asher.”
Erik laid a hand on his arm.
Asher shook it off.
Biographies
S.L. Danielson began writing at the age of
six. 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 to weave her new
love of male romance into long novels.
She is classically
trained in business, accounting, and education, holding both undergrad and
graduate degrees. Her other hobbies include painting, gaming, and spending time
with her husband and two cherished cats.
Contact S.L. at:
or follow her blog at:
Cheryl Headford was born into a poor
mining family in the South Wales Valleys. Until she was sixteen, 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.
Cheryl 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, Cheryl
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,
Cheryl lives in a terraced house in the valleys with her son and two cats. Her
daughter has deserted her for the big city, but they’re still close.
The Upstaged Series
also has it’s very own Facebook page
And if you want
exclusive snippets, gossip, more information about the group and what our boys
look like as Sims then you can have an exclusive Backstage Pass
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