Monday, September 16, 2013

The Firebirds is now available!

Here's a link to the Kindle edition in the Amazon US store. (The print version is in process right now.)

Summary:
Alison Stuart has one chance. She's worked hard all her life, but ten years after high school, she's a single mother doing her best to keep her head above water. When she's backed into a corner, she's given an offer she's been able to refuse before, but not this time. One night, one stranger she will never see again, one payment that will dig her out of the hole she's in—for now. At least, that was how it was supposed to be.

Owen Munsen had everything he wanted: a good job, a beautiful wife, a daughter he loved more than life itself. Then the rug was pulled out from under him, and he was left staring into the darkness, desperate for a way out. One night, one stranger he will never see again, a connection with someone that will let him forget the pain he's in for just a little while. At least, that was how it was supposed to be.

The events set in motion that night have repercussions far beyond what either of them expected.

Excerpt (beginning of Chapter 1):


  
It was her last chance. Alison flipped down the visor in her cramped hatchback and checked her makeup one last time, but she still couldn't make her stomach calm down. The space between her belly button and spine was a knot of tension, and as she carefully brushed away a small smudge of mascara beneath her left eye, she looked herself full in the face, and was embarrassed when a faint red stain washed her cheeks.

It was one time, just one time. That was it. But it would get her through the next week if she was lucky—

For possibly the thousandth time, Alison closed her eyes and knew that she couldn't do it. She would call Kayla, tell her that she couldn't do it... and then Kayla would never give her this chance again. Alison had already done it twice, waiting until she could no longer convince herself that there was even the slimmest possibility of going through with it to let Kayla know the deal was off, and then Kayla had called in another girl and said she understood, but if Alison didn't follow through tonight, that was it. She didn't even have to ask. She wouldn't have this opportunity for a fourth time.

One time. Not even a full night. If she was lucky, maybe it wouldn't even be an hour.

Alison felt sick to the point of nausea, and as she opened the car door she had to take a few deep breaths to steady herself again. By then it was a little easier to actually get out of the car, and as she pulled herself to her feet, it felt like another concession, another step toward some decision that could never, would never be unmade. She hadn't had any clothes she would really have considered appropriate for what she was about to do, so she wore a pair of sensible, if scuffed, black pumps, a black denim miniskirt, and a deep blue camisole trimmed in black lace. She had considered doing her makeup a little more heavily than she usually did, but she had always been told that her large hazel eyes were her best feature, so she had just put on the usual.

A part of her hoped he would be disappointed by her unexceptional appearance and call it off—but more than that, really. That he would take one look at her and change his mind.

She checked the scrap of paper one last time before combing her fingers through her hair and taking that first step, then the next. She had told Mrs. Tatoulos that she might not be back to pick up Payton until the morning, and Alison knew that she should have told someone where she was going, just in case. Kayla knew, of course, but Kayla had seemed distracted when Alison had said that if she didn't call by one o'clock, Kayla should send someone out to check on her. Telling her mother where she was and what she was doing wasn't even an option, and telling her friends was almost as unimaginable. If she made it through the next few hours, she hoped that her temperamental twelve-year-old car made it the forty miles back home.

That was if she was even in any condition to drive. If she wasn't parked at a dim rest stop between here and there, hugging her knees to her chest until her heart stopped breaking.

Weeds grew in clumps through the broken asphalt of the parking lot, and moths did slow orbits around the orange lights between the battered red metal doors. Alison climbed the exterior stairs to the second floor and passed a bank of vending machines, shifting her gaze to her scuffed pumps as she heard someone feed change into one. He cleared his throat and a drink rattled down the chute to clunk into the dispensing slot.

A business transaction. That was all.

An escort.

A whore.

But Alison wasn't any of those things. Alison should have been back home, studying at the small dining room table while her daughter slept under her faded pink and purple bedding. Alison would have been padding into her bathroom in a big threadbare t-shirt, her dark glossy hair piled up in a messy ponytail, sleepily brushing her teeth before she headed to bed alone.

Alison had spent the four hours since Kayla's phone call constructing an identity for herself. Candace, called Candy, putting herself through art school, who had the kind of sexual confidence and prowess Alison never had. Candy wouldn't ever let herself be out of control of the situation, and if this guy tried anything she had taken off the table, Candy would walk out. And Candy would take the money with her, too.

Alison would never have put herself into this situation, would never have let it get so far. So it was Candy instead, Alison told herself as she stopped in front of 232 and raised her fist to knock. She would be Candy for a few hours. She could be. She had to be.

Candy was the only way she could get through this.

The security lock slipped back a moment later, and the door opened and her heart was in her throat. She tried to make herself smile. "Hi, I'm—"

The assumed name rose to her lips, but as her gaze unwillingly went to the man's eyes, she recognized him. She fucking recognized him.

And this was why she had prayed that driving forty miles away from her hometown would be enough. It was supposed to be anonymous, and she would never see the guy again, and that would be better.

"Owen?"


Owen gave her a look of wide-eyed shocked dismay. "Oh shit. Al?"


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