Hi guys, we have Z.A. Maxfield stopping by today with the tour for her new release All Wheel Drive, we have a great excerpt and a brilliant giveaway so check out the post and click that giveaway link! ❤ ~Pixie~
All Wheel Drive
Healey Holly is battered, depressed, and looking to go to ground in his childhood home. He wants to rent the garage apartment, but it’s Diego Luz’s place now, and the last thing Diego wants is to share it.
Diego is recovering too—from the accident that put him in a wheelchair and the death of his mother shortly after. The garage apartment is where he’s keeping his mother’s things, and as long as they’re up those stairs and he’s down on the ground, there’s no way he can deal with his loss. And that’s just how he likes it.
Healey believes in science. Diego believes in luck. It will take a blend of both, and some prayer thrown in besides, for these two to learn that it’s the journey and the destination that matters.
Welcome to Bluewater Bay! This quiet little logging town on Washington state’s Olympic Peninsula has been stagnating for decades, on the verge of ghost town status. Until a television crew moves in to film Wolf’s Landing, a soon-to-be cult hit based on the wildly successful shifter novels penned by local author Hunter Easton.
Wolf’s Landing’s success spawns everything from merchandise to movie talks, and Bluewater Bay explodes into a mecca for fans and tourists alike. The locals still aren’t quite sure what to make of all this—the town is rejuvenated, but at what cost? And the Hollywood-based production crew is out of their element in this small, mossy seaside locale. Needless to say, sparks fly.
This collaborative story world is brought to you by eleven award-winning, best-selling LGBTQ romance authors: L.A. Witt, L.B. Gregg, Z.A. Maxfield, Heidi Belleau, Rachel Haimowitz, Anne Tenino, Amy Lane, SE Jakes, G.B. Gordon, Jaime Samms and Ally Blue. Each contemporary novel stands alone, but all are built around the town and the people of Bluewater Bay and the Wolf’s Landing media empire.
Check it out at Riptide Publishing! Bluewater Bay
Images of playing in the front yard, of water balloons and grilling burgers and infinitely happier times, scrolled through Healey’s exhaustion like a thick fog. He climbed the stairs too slowly, dragging his duffel up each step with a bang. His body felt leaden. Gravity was deliberately fucking with him. Even his heart felt hollow.
Nash isn’t here, he reminded himself.
No one is here.
What you’re looking for doesn’t exist anymore.
Maybe it never did.
Still, he turned the key in the lock. His key turned silently, the same key he’d used since they’d had the official apartment dedication before he left for school. When the wooden door opened, it connected with a box, sending cardboard scudding over dusty floors.
Healey flicked on the single overhead light. Closing the door behind him, he shivered. He got out his pen knife and pried away the baseboard where Nash’s bed used to be.
Nash’s secret stash contained an unopened fifth of Jack and a picture of the two of them, standing in front of their bikes. On the back it said, When you’re riding lead, don’t spit.
Good man. It was just like Nash to leave a present for the next guy.
“Bubba.” He toasted his brother because it was only proper while he surveyed Nash’s old bachelor pad.
The liquid burned his chapped lips and scorched his throat going down. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand before capping it, then turned to look at the rest of the place. Except for the Jack, Nash was no longer here. Healey didn’t know what he thought he’d find. A scent maybe. Or a feeling that spoke of being home. Of being in the last place of intersection between himself and his identical twin.
Until high school, he and Nash had always wanted the same things. Their lives, their hobbies intertwined. But Nash was physically restless, and Healey excelled in school. Nash got a garage apartment and an export auto repair shop, and Healey got a full ride to Stanford.
As far as Healey knew, neither of them regretted their choices. Except now, when Healey regretted everything.
But . . . regret.
Regret was as worthless as wishes. And all the prayers Healey tried went unanswered.
Seeing the new owner explained why the house sold as fast as it did. Diego Luz needed the ramps and wider doorways and lower counters they’d installed for Shelby.
But Shelby was in Spain and no part of the house belonged to them anymore.
New owner though. He was hot. And not just because he was fit. His muscle shirt wasn’t too douche-y; neither were his faded, soft-as-fuck-looking denim jeans. Black Vans. His arms were ripped. New owner was very fine, and he probably knew it, not that it mattered.
A brief stab of guilt, followed by sadness, rocked him. He missed Ford—his best friend. His first serious lover.
He glanced at his messages to torture himself some more.
Email message from Ford. Subject line: Urgent legal matters
We had some good times, right? I loved you. I really did. But you know it can’t work with someone like me. You know that.
You’re going to be named in the lawsuit. The dudes from the accident will name everyone as co-defendants: the school, my doctors, you, my parents, and everyone in my fucking life.
Our lawyers say that’s normal and you shouldn’t worry. My dad has offered to hire a lawyer for you, but I think you should find your own attorney as soon as possible. My dad’s lawyers will throw you under the bus if they can. It’s not personal with them. It’s never personal.
I set this in motion and I cannot stop it. Do whatever you have to do. Sorry.
You don’t know how sorry.
He and Ford’d had some good times. And so very, very many bad ones.
Most of which, if he were honest, had been entirely Ford’s fault.
In freshman year, when they’d met, Ford had seemed perfect. Work hard. Play harder. Nothing was off the table when it came to having fun, as long as they advanced to the next level at school. His occasional bouts of moodiness seemed related to the amount they drank—Healey was his number one partner in crime.
After a few months of this, they decided they weren’t doing themselves any favors, so Ford agreed to cut back. But as days, weeks, a whole quarter passed where Ford could barely get out of bed, Healey got worried. Ford’s family grew alarmed during the holidays, because his behavior at home had changed so drastically, and then Healey’d gotten the awful call: A suicide attempt. A hospitalization. Trial and error with medications. Fine tuning.
After that, Ford’s friends jumped on his “team.” Healey answered to Ford’s doctors, his family. He’d carried Ford’s banner through senior year, been part of Ford’s day-to-day support system ever since. He’d laughed with Ford. Cried with him. Held him through nights when Ford had given up hope.
They’d stumbled past the finish line together—Healey graduating with a PhD, Ford with an MBA. Along the way, Healey’d gotten so caught up in being part of the two of them, he’d lost his sense of self.
He’d lost his instinct for survival.
Healey and Ford’s last great adventure—a quick road trip to Vegas to blow off steam after graduation—had almost cost them their lives.
He shouldn’t be here.
He should be in school where he thrived.
Back in time.
Back to the beginning.
So much had happened that his brain—the one thing he could normally rely on when life hurt—couldn’t even process it.
The room was a tangle of boxes and photographic equipment. What looked like wrapped canvases. He peeked, because he couldn’t help himself. Colorful, abstract wooden sculptures, shrouded in old, paint-stained printed sheets, leaned against the wall like sarcophagi. It was an interesting mix of things.
After managing to foot-push a few boxes of junk out of the way, Nash laid his duffel bag down like a pillow and fell into an exhausted, slightly loopy slumber.
Read more at: http://www.riptidepublishing.com/titles/all-wheel-drive (just click the excerpt tab)
Z.A. Maxfield started writing in 2007 on a dare from her children and never looked back. Pathologically disorganized and perennially optimistic, she writes as much as she can, reads as much as she dares, and enjoys her time with family and friends. If anyone asks her how a wife and mother of four manages to find time for a writing career, she’ll answer, “It’s amazing what you can accomplish if you give up housework.”
Her published books include Crossing Borders, Epic Award finalist St. Nacho’s, Drawn Together, ePistols at Dawn, Notturno, Stirring Up Trouble, and Vigil.
Readers can visit her website at http://www.zamaxfield.com, and contact her at firstname.lastname@example.org.