Title: It Could Happen
Author: Mia Kerick
Release Date: June 5th 2017
Genre: New Adult, MMM Romance
Three misfits, mismatched in every way—Henry Perkins, Brody Decker, and Danny Denisco—have been friends throughout high school. Now in their senior year, the boys realize their relationship is changing, that they’re falling in love. But they face opposition at every turn—from outside and from within themselves. Moving to the next level will take all the courage, understanding, and commitment they can muster. But it could happen.
Henry is a star athlete and the son of religious parents who have little concern for the future he wants. Brody is a quirky dreamer and adrenaline junkie, and Danny is an emo artist and the target of bullies. Despite their differences they’ve always had each other’s backs, and with each of them facing a new and unique set of challenges, that support is more important than ever. Is it worth risking the friendship they all depend on for the physical and romantic relationship they all desire?
In this unconventional new adult romance, three gay teens brave societal backlash—as well as the chance that they might lose their treasured friendship—to embark on a committed polyamorous relationship.
Find It Could Happen on Goodreads
That was when Henry forgot all about keeping quiet, jerked at the door handle like a madman, and yelled, “Let us in! Let us in!”
It was like a miracle when the door slowly swung open. Danny stood in front of us wearing this strange, old-fashioned, white-nightgown thing he must have found at a thrift shop, because they sure don’t sell them at the outlet mall where I shop. If he were clutching a candleholder, he would have looked like an orphan in a Dickens’ novel. Danny’s fine black hair was rumpled and stuck to his head, and, like Henry said, his eyes were both blackened and swollen. His bottom lip was puffy too.
“What the fuck?” Henry didn’t shout it. He just asked. Then he rushed to Danny and hugged him. I couldn’t see Danny at all because he was swallowed up in Henry’s embrace, so I used the time to collect myself. I’m the one who’s supposed to keep my act together. I swallowed over and over until the lump in my throat went away, and when Henry finally let Danny go, I closed the door and told them to sit down on the bed.
Danny was oddly obedient. He took Henry’s arm and led him to the bed. While they pushed back the rumpled sheet and blankets and sat down, I stood in front of them and asked, “What happened to you, Danny?”
He said, “Nothing,” flopped back on the bed, and pulled a pillow over his head.
So I asked again, “What happened to your face?”
The pillow muffled Danny’s voice, but it sounded like he said, “It’s not just my face.” Henry reached down and pulled the nightgown up to Danny’s knees. His legs were covered in cuts and bruises, as though he’d been kicked in the shins too many times to count.
“I’m gonna fuckin’ kill him.” I think Henry was the one to say this, but it could as easily have been me.
Here is an exclusive excerpt about Danny, Henry, and Brody’s Accepted Student Visit to Prospect University.
I was surprised when I woke up this morning and I wasn’t in my bed. I was even more surprised when I opened my eyes and saw a very close-up view of tight, black curls. Henry’s scalp was so close to my nose I could smell his Henry smell. He was still out cold, though, with his sweaty forehead plastered to my left shoulder. The frosting on the cake was my right hand curved around Danny’s chest—as in, I was holding on to his right pec. Like it was a boob. On top of his T-shirt, but still, it was a surprising situation to find myself in.
I made the unsurprising choice to stay as still as a tree—you know, on a day with no wind—because I want to make the closeness last.
But soon I had to fight the urge to stretch. I tend to be overly active, and stretching out my muscles when I wake up is a habit that has apparently turned into a need. Plus you can’t fart when you’re in close quarters like that, and the amount of beans I consume as a protein source leads to excessive gas.
On top of all that, nature called my name because I sucked down every last drop of an extra- large caramel soy latte right before we fell asleep on the common- room floor. But since I was caught between a rock and a hard place, or, more accurately, between the forehead and right pec of my two boyfriends, I didn’t move a muscle. And I tried like hell to enjoy that moment of unexpected intimacy—even if I was the only one awake to enjoy it.
At that point Henry rubbed his nose against my bicep. It was memorable enough to write down because of how completely un- Henry-like it was—so spontaneous and unaware. And again I was surprised.
Then my hand—the one cupped over Danny’s pec—involuntarily flinched. It wasn’t a boob squeeze. I was not feeling him up. It was merely an unintentional and unified movement of all my finger muscles, probably a result of my fierce need to pee. I knew that if I didn’t answer nature’s call, I was going to embarrass myself in a very wet way, which wasn’t how I wanted to start an accepted-student overnight at my first— only—choice college.
So I tried to slide my hand off Danny’s chest as my first move to extricate myself from that awesome tangle.
“Stop fidgeting,” Danny murmured.
“I’ve got to pee. I’ve almost waited too long.” I decided to be brutally honest.
“Jesus,” he said and rolled away from me.
I took advantage of the moment, slid out, and headed to the bathroom.
The three of us were staying in a three-bedroom, one-bathroom suite in a huge brick dormitory at Prospect University. Although we requested to be placed in the same suite, we’d each been assigned to share a room with a stranger, so we ended up sleeping on top of Henry and Danny’s sleeping bags with my sleeping bag draped over us on the common-room floor, instead of in our assigned bunk beds. The floor was hard and uncomfortable, but the company made up for it. We didn’t think there was enough privacy to fool around, but being close to one another all night long was good enough—not that we weren’t all horny as hell by the time we fell asleep.
When I got back to the common room, Henry was awake. “Morning, Perky. Hmm... you don’t look too perky,” I said to him. “I’m hungry, I guess,” he said, but I knew that coming with us was hard for Henry to do. But he did. For the first time, Henry told his parents what he was going to do, instead of the other way around, and they didn’t like it one bit. I’m pretty sure he’s still dealing with having bucked their authority, because Henry’s a pleaser, and all he ever wanted was to make his parents proud—until we became us. And now there’s something he wants more.
“You sure you’re doing okay?” I dropped onto the nest of sleeping bags, right beside where Henry was lying on his belly, and put my hands on the bare skin of his back. It felt so weird that I could do that, but Henry’s mine, and I can touch him if I want. As long as no one wanders into the common room and catches us.
I rubbed his back, and he moaned softly, which was the lure that drew Danny in. Danny slid over so he was on his belly right beside Henry, and he put an arm across Henry’s lower back. I moved one hand to Danny’s shoulder and squeezed. It was amazing to have Henry’s big muscles under one palm and Danny’s wiry ones under the other—and to know they were both mine.
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About the Author
Mia Kerick is the mother of four exceptional children—a daughter in law school, another in dance school, a third studying at Mia’s alma mater, Boston College, and her lone son still in high school. She writes LGBTQ romance when not editing National Honor Society essays, offering opinions on college and law school applications, helping to create dance bios, and reviewing English papers. Her husband of twenty-four years has been told by many that he has the patience of Job, but don’t ask Mia about this, as it is a sensitive subject.
Mia focuses her stories on emotional growth in turbulent relationships. As she has a great affinity for the tortured hero, there is, at minimum, one in each book. As a teen, Mia filled spiral-bound notebooks with tales of said tortured heroes (most of whom happened to strongly resemble lead vocalists of 1980s big-hair bands) and stuffed them under her mattress for safekeeping. She is thankful to Dreamspinner Press and Harmony Ink Press for providing alternate places to stash her stories.
Her books have won a Best YA Lesbian Rainbow Award, a Reader Views’ Book by Book Publicity Literary Award, the Jack Eadon Award for Best Book in Contemporary Drama, an Indie Fab Award, and a Royal Dragonfly Award for Cultural Diversity, among other awards.
Mia is a Progressive, a little bit too obsessed by politics, and cheers for each and every victory in the name of human rights. Her only major regret: never having taken typing or computer class in school, destining her to a life consumed with two-fingered pecking and constant prayer to the Gods of Technology.
Contact Mia at firstname.lastname@example.org. Visit her website for updates on what is going on in Mia’s world, rants, music, parties, and pictures, and maybe even a little bit of inspiration.