Moving to Shadow
Hills was supposed to be the start of a new life for Lachlan MacAuley, and for
a while, the sleepy little town provided exactly what he’d been seeking. His
debut novel had soared to the top of the bestseller charts, and each subsequent
book only boosted his popularity. Though he had more imaginary friends than
real ones, he was happy, finally living his dream as a published author.
Then, in one
tragic moment, everything changed.
Xeno knows the
rules. He knows the risks of bringing a human into his world, but when he meets
Lachlan at the local coffeehouse, he can’t deny there’s something between them.
The connection goes deeper than mere physical attraction, though, and more than
anything, he wants to mend the broken author and help to pick up the shattered
remains of his life.
So many obstacles
stand between them and their happy ending, but if they can learn to lean on one
another, believe they can trust again, it may just be a holiday they’ll never
forget.
Buy Now From:
"Ms Michaels
does an amazing job of bringing me, the reader, into this story making me feel
so connected that I never wanted it to end. I love the emotional connection I
had to the characters, the love I felt jumping off the pages and the hotter
than sin sex that is the icing on a story I will not soon forget. This book is
going on my keeper shelf."
Chapter One
The alluring scent of brewed
coffee and freshly baked cinnamon buns wafted through the small corner café.
Coffeehouses of all sizes and varying degrees of popularity littered the art
district in Shadow Hills, but Brew Ha Ha offered a very inspirational environment.
The free wireless internet, the dim, intimate lighting, and the secluded
corners with large, squashy chairs provided the perfect writer’s paradise.
Every morning for nearly two
years, Lachlan MacAuley had packed his laptop, his notebooks, and his hopes and
dreams in a battered messenger bag. Then he’d walk the three blocks to Brew Ha
Ha, order a non-fat, no foam salted caramel macchiato, and commandeer his
favorite armchair in the back of the café. And every morning for the past six
months, he’d sat in that chair and stared at the blinking curser on his screen
while crickets chirped inside his head.
That first year had been
phenomenal, like walking on a cloud. His debut novel, Public Affair, had soared to
the top of the bestseller charts, and from there, Lachlan had been unstoppable.
If he wasn’t writing, he was thinking about writing. His entire life, he’d
dreamed of being a published author, and living the dream proved to be better
than anything he could have imagined.
Then everything changed.
The night had started like any
other. Lachlan had retreated into his own mind, frantically pounding away at
the keyboard and feeling almost giddy as his latest story unfolded right before
his eyes. The café had been deserted by the time he’d come up for air, and the
baristas had already started their nightly cleanup.
After packing away his portable
office and paying the tab for the endless amounts of coffee he’d consumed
during his marathon writing session, he’d set out for home, eager to reach his
apartment so he could return to his fantasyland. Contemplating his hero’s
current predicament and spinning out scenarios of how Sargent Dwayne Moore
could swoop in and save the day, Lachlan hadn’t even seen the headlights or
heard the blare of the horn from the car that hit him.
The doctors had told him he’d
been lucky to survive. The nurses who’d tended to him during his two month
hospital stay had commented more than once about his miraculous recovery. His
physical therapist had told him not to be surprised if he always needed a cane
to walk, but in the same breath, he’d applauded how quickly Lachlan had pulled
himself up out of his wheelchair.
Since then, however, he hadn’t
been able to write anything, and the longer the words refused to flow, the
deeper he sank into depression. Maybe he’d lost the spark. He’d certainly lost
the passion of being an author. Unfortunately, he didn’t know how to be
anything else.
He had to figure out something
soon, though, because writer’s block didn’t pay the rent. The last quarter’s
royalties would carry him for a little while, but the money wouldn’t last
forever. So, he’d given himself a personal deadline—three weeks, right up to
Christmas day—and if he still wasn’t writing by then, he’d start looking for a
new job.
“More coffee?”
Dragging himself out of his
pity party, Lachlan looked up at the hottie in the apron and grinned. “I could
go for another macchiato.”
“You got it.” The barista
winked before taking Lachlan’s cup and hustling back behind the counter.
“Hello, inspiration,” Lachlan
mumbled to himself as he watched the sexy blond walk away. The baggy denim hid
what was most likely a fantastic ass, but the too-tight T-shirt more than made
up for it. The gray cotton encased his torso, molding to him like a second skin
that hugged every dip, curve, and lean muscle.
A twinge in his left hip
reminded Lachlan why he could look, but he’d never get any farther. Men as
beautiful as that didn’t go for broken, socially awkward nerds who had more
imaginary friends than real ones.
“Here ya are, handsome.” The
server returned with an extra-large mug of steamy, creamy goodness. “You’ve
been here for a couple of hours, and I noticed you haven’t eaten anything. I
asked around, and one of the girls said you like the banana bread.” He flashed
a genuine smile as he placed the coffee and bread down on the side table. “Is
there anything else I can get for you?”
“Thank you.” A wave of shyness
overwhelmed Lachlan, and he had a hard time not ducking his head and averting
his eyes. No one paid attention to him anymore, not unless they were gawking at
his limp, but this guy had watched him long enough to know he hadn’t eaten. He
should probably be creeped out by the stalkerish behavior, but strangely, he
found it kind of sweet. “Are you new here? I haven’t seen you around before.”
“I’ve worked here for a couple
of months, but I just switched to second shift yesterday.” He wiped his right
hand on the towel slung over his shoulder and offered it to Lachlan. “I’m
Xeno.”
“Now that needs to go in a
book.” Lachlan took Xeno’s hand and squeezed, but he let go quickly, placing
his hand back in his lap to hide its shaking.
“You’re an author?” Xeno’s eyes
lit up, and he looked like he might wet himself with excitement. “Can I ask
what you write? Or is that rude?”
A quiet chuckle, the first real
one he’d uttered in months, rolled through Lachlan’s chest and up through his
lips. “I don’t mind. I’m Lachlan, by the way.” While he didn’t advertise what
he wrote, he’d never been ashamed of it, either. “I write gay erotic romance.”
Then he sat back and waited for Xeno’s reaction.
“Really? I mean, you’re
published and everything?”
“And everything,” Lachlan
confirmed around more laughter. “So I guess this means you’re not going to kick
me out on my ass.”
“Are you kidding? That is so
cool.” His bright green eyes practically glowed, and he danced from foot to
foot, clearly wanting to interrogate Lachlan further. “Hey, I have a break in
ten minutes. Would you mind some company?”
“Not at all. I’ll be right here.”
His heart pounded too fast, and the tension in his muscles made his hip hurt
like the ten shades of hell. To pass up an opportunity like this, even if the
guy was only interested in him for his books, would be stupid, though. Lachlan
had been accused of a lot of things, but never of stupidity.
“Awesome.” Xeno started to
leave, but he paused and glanced back over his shoulder. “Oh, um, out of
curiosity. What’s your last name?”
“MacAuley. Lachlan MacAuley.”
* * * *
“Okay, don’t freak out. Don’t
be lame.” Gripping the porcelain edges of the small sink in the employee
bathroom, Xeno stared into the mirror and tried not to giggle like a damn
schoolgirl. “Holy fuck, it’s really him.” He squeezed his eyes closed and shook
his head. “Stop it. Just be cool.”
Though he’d read thousands of
gay romance novels over the years, something about Public Affair, had spoken to
him. It wasn’t just that he connected with the characters. He became the characters. Every heartbreak,
disappointment, victory, and celebration the men in that book experienced, Xeno
lived it right along with them.
After that, he’d snatched up
every Lachlan MacAuley title he could get his hands on. He stalked Lachlan’s
website, always checking to see what the man had coming up next and what he’d
be working on in the months to come. Every new release felt like Christmas
morning, and Xeno devoured every chapter, every scene, and every sentence with
inappropriate enthusiasm.
Now, the man had just agreed to
a date with him. Okay, maybe it wasn’t a date date, but that didn’t make him
any less nervous. And good gods, did the man have to be just as handsome and
charming as the heroes in his books? With high cheekbones, dazzling blue
eyes, and a gorgeous head of thick, brown hair, Lachlan looked more suited to
the Hollywood limelight than hiding behind a keyboard.
“Okay, you can do this. He’s
just like any other guy, right?” Xeno nodded to his reflection, took a deep
breath, and pasted a smile on his face. “Right.”
Not wanting to appear too
eager, however, he washed his hands and face, tamed his unruly spikes, and
smoothed the front of his T-shirt. Then he stopped by the counter before
returning to Lachlan’s corner of the café to order two more coffees and a few
more slices of banana bread.
“It’s good to see him smiling
again.” Myah pushed the tray toward him as she tilted her head in Lachlan’s
direction. “Just don’t ask about his cane, okay? He’s kind of sensitive about
it.”
“What cane?”
“Exactly.” She leveled a pointed
glare on him before waving him away. “Go have fun and behave yourself.”
Xeno lifted the serving tray as
he wiggled his eyebrows. “I always do.”
“You’re back.” Lachlan’s eyes
widened, and he nearly knocked over his coffee mug when Xeno approached him.
“You sound surprised. Did you
doubt me?”
“Honestly?” Ducking his head,
he peeked up at Xeno through long, dark lashes and shrugged. “Yes.”
“Well, shame on you.” Flashing
a bright grin to soften the chastisement, Xeno sat the tray down on the round
table beside Lachlan and settled into the unoccupied chair on the other side.
“I’m not disturbing you, am I? I mean, if you’re working, I can get lost.”
“No, no, you’re not bothering
me.” Leaning back against the cushions, Lachlan crossed one leg over the other
and folded his hands in his lap. “So are you an aspiring author? Is that why
you wanted to talk to me? I’m no expert, but I can give you some tips.”
“An aspiring…” Trailing off
into laughter, Xeno didn’t think he’d ever heard anything so absurd. “No, no,
I’m not creative enough to be a writer.”
“Oh.” Lachlan’s brow furrowed,
and his lips thinned into a straight line. “I–I’m sorry. I guess I don’t
understand.”
Bless his heart, he really was
adorable. “Lachlan, I’m a huge fan of your work. I just wanted a chance to talk
to my favorite author. No ulterior motive, I promise.” Part of him did want to
question the man about his lack of new books in the past several months, but he
tempered his curiosity. The creative process was a fickle thing, or so he’d heard.
“Really? I wouldn’t have
guessed you, well, you know.”
“What? Know how to read?”
“No, of course not, that’s not
what I meant.” Lachlan covered his face with both hands, but the act didn’t
completely hide the blush that crept into his cheeks. Dropping his hands, he
breathed in deeply through his nose and attempted a wobbly smile. “I wouldn’t
have guessed you were gay.”
“You mean until I open my mouth
and my stilettos fall out?”
Gods, the guy had a great
laugh, and his smile brightened the entire room. It sounded rusty and a little
unused, but it still caused Xeno’s heart to flutter. It didn’t, however, mask
the squint in his eyes or the way his lips twisted into subtle grimace.
Sitting up straighter, Lachlan
repositioned in his seat so that he could straighten out his right leg. “Tell
me, Xeno, do you have a last name?”
“Shadowhill.”
“Like the name of the town.”
Lachlan nodded as though this made perfect sense. “Any relation to the first
settlers?”
He and his family had been the
first to settle in Shadow Hills, but he couldn’t tell Lachlan that. The guy
would never believe him, and besides, telling him would break the golden rule
set forth by the Elders of their race. Under no circumstances were humans
allowed to know about their world. Things had been that way for two thousand
years, and Xeno imagined they’d continue to be that way for two thousand more.
“Um, you know, I’m not sure.
I’ve never really been a history buff.” Damn, he hated lying, but he couldn’t
change the rules. “What about you? How long have you lived here?”
“I grew up in Virginia, have
lived here all my life, but I just moved to Shadow Hills three years ago. My
mom remarried and moved to California.” Lachlan grimaced again and rubbed at
his right thigh. “I don’t have any other family, nothing tying me to Norfolk. I
wanted a nice quiet place to write, and Shadow Hills fit that bill.”
“Norfolk? Military family?”
“Yeah, my dad was Navy. After
he died, we just kind of stayed there, ya know?” Lachlan bent his knee and
turned in his seat, but he seemed to be having a hard time getting comfortable.
“Enough about me, though. Tell me something about you, something unique.”
I’m a dreamwalking werewolf. It didn’t get much more unique than that,
but Lachlan would either think him insane or laugh right in his face. “My
favorite color is hot pink.”
“Boring.” Lachlan tapped his
lips and pretended to yawn. “My favorite color is purple. Tell me something
else.”
“Last year, I went to a
Halloween party as Cinderella.”
“College jocks do that for fun.
Try again.”
Leaning forward in his chair,
Xeno propped his chin up in his hand and smirked. “You’re a tough sale, Mr.
MacAuley. I don’t know. Maybe I’m not unique.”
“I doubt that. I think you’re
pretty damn special.” It didn’t take Lachlan long to realize what he’d said,
and when he did, his cheeks reddened once again. Clearing his throat, he
hastened to change the subject. “Tell me something you haven’t told anyone
else.”
“Okay, okay, I got one for
you.” Leaning even closer, he glanced around to make sure no one would overhear
him. “I got this job because I slept with the manager.”
“You little slut.” Lachlan’s
eyes crinkled in the corners and his nose scrunched when he smiled.
“In my defense, I didn’t sleep
with him just to get the job.” Hell, he hadn’t even
been looking for a job at the time. However, when the opportunity presented
itself one night when they were both naked, sweating, and panting, Xeno hadn’t
hesitated to jump at it. “Okay, you’re turn. Tell me something you haven’t told
anyone else.”
Several seconds passed in
silence while Lachlan fidgeted with the strap on his messenger bag. “I don’t
really sleep anymore.” He spoke in quiet monotones, and he wouldn’t look Xeno
in the eyes. “I don’t like the dark.” Turning his head to the side, his gaze
flickered toward the window and his shoulders tensed. “I need to go.”
Xeno didn’t know what to say,
so he said nothing, but his chest constricted at the hollow look in the man’s
eyes. What happened to you? “Okay, well, I work second shift again
tomorrow. Will I see you then?”
“Maybe,” Lachlan answered while
he tucked his laptop into his bag and slung the strap over his shoulder. “I
have an appointment tomorrow.”
Curiosity ate away at him, but
Xeno didn’t know the man well enough to pry into his personal life. “I should
get back to work, but I hope I see you again. Take care, Lachlan.”
“Yes. No. I mean, I…I don’t
know.” The sweet, shy man Xeno had shared coffee with just a moment before had
turned into a distracted, frantic mess. Pulling a long black walking stick out
from behind the chair, he curled his fingers around the silver knob at the end
and leaned heavily against it. “I have to go.” Without further comment, without
even looking in Xeno’s direction, Lachlan hurried toward the exit as fast as
his limp would allow.
Gathering the dishes and trash
from the table, Xeno carried the tray back to the front counter while he
contemplated the odd behavior. “Is he always like that?”
“Like what?” Myah propped one
hip on the counter and cocked her head to the side, causing her blond ponytail
to bounce.
“I thought things were going
well, but then he started acting all weird. Next thing I know, he’s practically
running out of the door.”
“Lachlan doesn’t go out after
dark, not since the accident.” Sucking her bottom lip between her teeth, Myah’s
expression clouded as she stared through the door to the darkening sky beyond.
“I hope he’ll be okay.”
“Wait, back up. What accident?”
“It happened at the beginning
of the year. He was crossing the street and this car just came out of nowhere.
Everyone says he’s lucky to be alive, but Lachlan hasn’t been the same since it
happened.”
The constant shifting, the
pained grimaces, the cane, the fear of the dark—it all made sense now. “Myah,
will you cover for me? I have something I need to do.”
Entering the small bar on the side of the highway, Remy didn’t harbor high expectations for the night, not until he notices the most gorgeous man in the place checking him out from across the room. Casual hookups in dark alleys aren’t his style, but he knows he’d be a fool to pass up such an opportunity.
Zayne Michaels is a small-town girl who grew up and ran off to the big city. She currently resides in the Midwest where she spends her days dreaming up dark, sexy adventures in between soccer games and the never-ending pile of laundry.
