Title: The Art of Hero Worship
Author: Mia Kerick
Re-Release
Date: October 29th 2018
Published
by: Ninestar Press
Genre: MM Contemporary Romance, LGBT, New Adult
BLURB
Saving the one who once saved me.
College junior Liam
Norcross is a hero. He willingly, even eagerly, risks his life to save a
stranger as a murderous, deranged shooter moves methodically through the
darkened theater on the Batcheldor College campus, randomly killing innocent
men, women, and children.
The stranger he saves is
college freshman Jason Tripp. Jase loses everything in the shooting: his
girlfriend, who dies on the floor beside him, and his grip on emotional
security. He struggles to regain a sense of safety in the world, finally
leaving college to seek refuge in his hometown.
An inexplicable bond
forms between the two men in the chaos and horror of the theater, and Liam
fights to bring Jase back to the world he ran away from. When Jase returns to
school, they’re drawn together as soulmates, and soon Liam and Jase fall into a
turbulent romantic relationship. However, the rocky path to love cannot be
smoothed until Jase rescues his hero in return by delving into his shady past
and solving the mystery of Liam’s compulsion to be everybody’s savior.
EXCERPT
...It seems as if so much time has passed since the first
bullet whizzed past my right ear…that for a month or a year—or for my entire
lifetime—I’ve been waiting for the gunshots to stop. But a tiny voice inside my
head suggests that I’ve been in this living hell for less than five minutes, at
most.
Pop-pop-pop…
Right after the shooting started, but before I lost
Ginny, I caught a glimpse of the gunman’s silhouette against the bright stage.
He’d seemed huge in his dark baggy clothing. He towered over the audience, or
maybe it just seemed that way because he was pointing a gun at us. I recognized
the shooter from seeing him around campus. And when I saw his face profiled in
the light—the bulging forehead, prominent nose, and receding chin—a name had
sped through my brain, but soon the name was as lost to me as my girlfriend’s
lax hand.
Pop-pop-pop…
The gunman doesn’t say a word; his weapon does the
talking. And the deafening popping sounds are closer again, like the gun has
something it wants to say to me
personally…something like, “You’re gonna die today, Jason.”
“I’m gonna push on your back really hard, and I want you
to squeeze as much of your body underneath the chairs as you can, got it?” The
voice seems to come from a million miles away, but it’s coming from right
behind me. On top of me, really. I feel his breath on the back of my neck.
Pop-pop-pop…pop-pop-pop…
“Are we going to die?” I’m not sure if I ask this or if
it comes from the lips of the little old lady who’d been sitting on the other
side of Ginny at the start of the play. The old lady who told us she’d come to
the Harrison Theater to see her granddaughter play Ophelia in the Shakespeare in the Spring Performance Series,
not to die in a hail of bullets. I know that Ginny didn’t ask the question,
though. She’s been silent since the second volley of gunshots when her head
slumped over unnaturally onto my shoulder, and by instinct, I’d pulled her to
the floor.
Batcheldor College’s small theater has been called “an
acoustic gem,” and right now, it’s ringing with the erratic sounds of screaming
and moaning and crying and shouting and shooting. But most impressive is the
resounding silence of the gunman, which speaks louder than words, or gunshots,
ever could.
All in all, it’s noisy and confusing and crazy…the
Beatles’ tune “Helter Skelter” comes to mind. This is not how I want to die.
Mostly because I don’t want to die!
The guy on my back is poking a single finger into the
blood on my head, then twisting in such a way that I think he’s reaching to his
back…like maybe he’s smearing my blood there. I’m distracted from his action by
the squealing of the fire alarm, and I find my blurry mind wondering if, in
addition to the problem of a crazed gunman, we also have a fire to put out.
Would I
prefer my death be a result of hungry flames or a hail of bullets?
“We’re gonna survive; just stay still. Completely still.
’Kay?” I feel the pressure on my back that he promised me, and even though it
hurts to have my belly pushed into the metal rungs at the base of the seats in
front of us, I feel strangely safe. He speaks into my ear. “Play dead, dude.”
Pop-pop-pop…
No, I’m not even remotely safe. But thankfully, I play
dead far better than my dog Goliath did when I tried to teach him that trick at
the age of seven.
The shots are already earsplitting, and growing louder,
as the shooter’s heading our way. I’m so fucking scared I tremble as if I’m
having a seizure, and I promised the guy lying on top of me that I’d stay
still. I concentrate on taking short shallow breaths, one after another, in my
effort to stop shaking. To stay frozen—the way my heart has been since I pulled
Ginny to the floor and promptly let go of her hand so I could curl up into a
tight fetal ball.
Somebody near me sits up, scrambles to his knees, and
impulsively crawls toward the far aisle.
Pop-pop-pop…
“Bang, bang…you’re dead.” The voice comes from directly
above me; it’s blank and monotone and controlled. The snicker that follows is
chilling. I want nothing more than to throw the big guy off my back and run
like hell toward the double doors, but I just keep on going with the short,
shallow breaths and stay as still as I’ve ever been in my life. The guy on top
of me is totally exposed; I can’t move because if I do, I’ll cheat him out of
his life, for sure. Which is so not
cool when he’s trying to save mine.
I smell blood. Never noticed the smell of blood before.
It reminds me of Grandma’s penny collection…if it got spilled onto the sticky
floor of the theater. The scent of old copper is everywhere like wet pennies
strewn all around me on the floor.
Pop-pop-pop…
Shooter’s practically on top of us now. Don’t move…don’t move…don’t move…
“Dear God, help me!” This request seems to catch the
shooter’s attention, and he turns around and steps away from us. I curse myself
for feeling as relieved as I do.
Pop-pop-pop…
We wait and it seems like forever. We wait as voices beg
and plead and pray and he shuts them up with bullets. We wait as the sound of
shots moves to the front left near the exit, where I figure he’s shooting at
anyone who tries to get out through the double doors.
And then, for a second, it’s quiet.
“Now…” The big guy whispers, but the sound seems to blast
into my left ear. “We have to make our move now.”
Before I agree, the heaviness of his body lifts and I feel cold and exposed.
“This is our chance to get outta here…”
His hand is attached to the back of my wrist, clutching
me so hard I’ll have fingerprint bruises for a week…if I live so long.
“Come on! Get up!”
“Ginny…” I whisper back. “I can’t leave Ginny.”
He reaches out to touch the flesh mound in the center of
the pool of blood and whispers firmly, “Ginny’s already gone.” He releases my
wrist just long enough to adjust his grip. “I worked here last year. I know how
to get away. Come on…”
Giveaway:
Win $5 Amazon Gift Card
About
the Author
Mia Kerick is the mother of four
exceptional children—one in law school, another a professional dancer, a third
studying at Mia’s alma mater, Boston College, and her lone son off to Syracuse.
(Yes, there is Atlantic Coast Conference rivalry within the family.) She
publishes LGBTQ romances 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-five 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 the emotional
growth of troubled young people and their relationships. She has a great
affinity for the tortured hero in literature, and as a teen, Mia filled
spiral-bound notebooks with tales of tortured heroes and stuffed them under her
mattress for safekeeping. Now she publishes
her work—it’s an alternate place to stash her stories.
Her books have been featured in Kirkus
Reviews magazine and have won Rainbow Awards for Best Transgender Contemporary
Romance and Best YA Lesbian Fiction, a Reader Views’ Book by Book Publicity
Literary Award, the Jack Eadon Award for Best Book in Contemporary Drama, an
Indie Fab Award, a First Place Royal Dragonfly Award for Cultural Diversity, a
First Place Story Monsters Purple Dragonfly Award for YA Fiction, among others.
Mia Kerick is a social liberal and cheers
for each and every victory made 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 miakerick@gmail.com
or visit at www.miakerickya.com to
see what is going on in Mia’s world.
I am so happy to be at your blog today with my cover reveal! Thanks!
ReplyDelete