Wealthy family…

Childhood tragedy…

A love defying all odds…

Secrets in the Air

Flying is in Rhett O’Neil’s blood. And nothing makes this pilot fly higher than wrapping himself in his husband Kaden’s arms. He’s thrilled when his grandfather entrusts him with O’Neil Airways, the family’s charter airplane business. With a mix of humanitarian and corporate clients, Rhett plans a bright future where his success improves the world.

Elise, Rhett’s mother, begins offering advice to “help” her son through the transition into increased responsibility. As evidence surfaces that her words are escalating into devastating actions, the truth comes out about the death of Rhett’s sister Annabelle. Kaden has to race to protect his husband and himself from the consequences of the Secrets in the Air before it’s too late.

BUY LINK:

Amazon

Magical Gifts

If someone asked non-writers “How do authors write so many words?” Based on my experience, I would expect responses ranging from:

“They’re crazy! I hated writing in school. Why would they choose to do it forever?”

To…

“I don’t know. It’s easy for them.” (This is often followed by a defense of pirating – which, for the purpose of keeping my blood pressure stable – I won’t get into.)

To…

“They just do. It’s a gift.”

Now if a writer hears any of these options on a good day, they may chuckle or shake their heads. None of the above are completely accurate. But since May I’ve been rethinking the whole gift idea. Please allow me to explain.

From March to the middle of May this year for no reason I understood, I struggled to write. I had a comprehensive outline, detailed character sheets, and scheduled time almost every day to write. Pushing these words out hurt, though. I didn’t consider this writer’s block because I knew where the story had to go, but I could not get it there. The characters who normally chatted were silent.

Silent.

I couldn’t create. Worse still, I wasn’t even sure I wanted to.

That was devastating for me. I feared I would never willingly write again. Never get swept into a life not my own. Have to live with silence in my head forever.

I realize this sounds crazy to those of you who don’t have people in your head (that you know aren’t real) but to those of us who do, the silence can be maddening.

Why yes, I did imply authors could become crazier than they already are. Do you realize how scary that is? No one wants to live in a world where creatives have no means of expression. Trust me.

Anyway, I ground the book out because I don’t like to abandon projects. As I wrote the last few chapters, though, something happened. A set of characters began needling my brain. Finally! Inspiration, I thought. But… then why did the man trying to get in my head wear a leather bomber jacket and have long hair? Neither of the characters I was writing looked like that. Of course. New boys. I nudged him to the back of my head because I could hardly handle the characters on the page much less take on another story.

You know, characters don’t appreciate being told to wait their turn. The man with long hair and a bomber jacket woke me up at night to inform me his name was Rhett and he was a pilot. Apparently, he wouldn’t wait for me to be ready. So, I dumped a rough outline of his and Kaden’s story into a Scrivener document, hoping that would suffice. No, it didn’t. He and Kaden kept talking. They told me about their histories, families, and passions. The two of them were bursting at the seams to get started.

“No,” I said. “Be patient.”  (As a side note, I have no right to tell anyone to be patient. Ever.) I was determined to finish what I started, but I made notes for Rhett and Kaden along the way.

Finally, I wrote “The End” on the other manuscript. I reveled in the sense of relief and fell into bed. With that book off my mind, I’d sleep so well.

Four and a half hours later…

“What are you doing?” Rhett demanded as he knocked on my brain. “It’s our turn!”

Sigh. And so it was. Readers, after struggling to write for two months, I wrote the first draft of Secrets in the Air in less than two weeks. Please don’t ask me how. I wouldn’t be able to tell you, and it probably wasn’t safe. I was at once elated and exhausted. The boys drowned out the silence.

Is writing a gift? Sort of. I’m certainly grateful for the ability to put words onto the page, and the opportunity to share them with all of you. However, doing it well is not easy. Now, if you’ll excuse me, there are boys knocking at my brain again.

 

Kaden O’Neil tensed as Rhett’s motorcycle roared into the driveway. “Lassie, your other daddy is in trouble,” he said as he scooped up the orange and white tabby. Rather, Kaden tried to remain irritated with his husband. Goddamn Rhett for making it nearly impossible to do that as he strode up the walkway with his snug jeans and brown curls gracing the collar of his leather bomber jacket.

Rhett raised an eyebrow as he took note of the bare windows. After opening the door, he tossed his duffel bag on the floor and offered a tired smile. “Going to just stand there and stare? What kind of welcome home is that?”

“You’re lucky I enjoy staring at you,” Kaden said, coming over and kissing him. “Otherwise, I would still be mad for making me hangry.”

“Hangry?”

“Yeah, hunger that causes anger.” Kaden scratched Lassie’s head.

Rhett offered her his hand to smell. “Is this little bundle of joy why we don’t have curtains up in the living room?”

“I love you.” Kaden glanced down at Lassie, who purred and rubbed herself all over Rhett’s fingers. “Oh, look, so does she.”

Leaning in for a kiss, Rhett replied, “Uh-huh. Curtains?”

“Mount Everest for cats. I got her a scratching post after she defeated them.” Kaden let her jump from his arms and embraced his husband. As Rhett returned it, Kaden buried his face in his neck, appreciating the familiar scent of worn leather. “I missed you.”

“Mm, I missed you, too, Kay.” Rhett pulled back and kissed his lips. The kiss deepened as Rhett slipped his tongue in Kaden’s mouth.

Moving one hand up to the back of Rhett’s head, Kaden entangled his fingers in his dark hair, and circled their tongues. He pulled away and unzipped Rhett’s jacket. As it dropped to the floor, Kaden’s stomach growled loudly enough for the cat to meow. “Food first?” he asked Rhett. Lassie led the way to the kitchen.

“Was she watching us?” Rhett asked, bending over to pick his jacket up off the floor.

Kaden averted his gaze before Rhett faced him again. “Probably. She follows me into the bathroom. Studies all sorts of private acts.”

Sauntering closer, Rhett whispered, “And you were also staring again.”

“What did you think would happen if you bent over in front of me?” Kaden snaked his hand around Rhett’s waist and squeezed the firm globes.

“I thought you wanted to eat,” Rhett protested.

As if on cue, Kaden’s stomach growled. “Fine!” With a chuckle and another squeeze, he let go and made his way to the kitchen. As he dished out roast beef from the crock pot and added mashed potatoes, he smiled at Rhett, who poured water from the Brita filter. They kept no alcohol in the house. Between what Kaden saw at his job every day and Rhett’s father’s addiction problems, neither even considered it. “Everything all right?” Kaden asked, setting the food at their places.

“Hmm? Yes. Dinner smells delicious,” Rhett said, bringing the fork to his mouth. As soon as he wrapped his lips around the tines of the fork, he shut his eyes. The expression painting his face reminded Kaden of the one he wore after an orgasm. “Tastes it, too.”

“I’m glad, but I meant Pop. Is he okay? Besides having no concept of quick.” Kaden smiled to signal that he wasn’t upset.

Rhett cleared his throat and returned it, albeit stiffly. “About that. We should talk.”

“Uh-oh.”

“No, no, nothing bad.” He sat back in the chair and grasped Kaden’s hand. “Pop is retiring and giving me the business, in addition to part of my inheritance.”

Kaden’s heart rate steadied and his smile widened. “That’s fantastic. I’m so proud of you.”

“Thanks. I didn’t do anything, though.” Rhett’s face pinkened into a flush.

After setting his fork down, Kaden stroked Rhett’s cheek. “Really? You believe your grandfather would hand his company to someone who had done nothing to deserve it?”

“I meant today.” Rhett wiped his mouth. He covered Kaden’s hand with his own. “It’s a lot of responsibility.”

“It is, and people who were once your peers are now your subordinates. Not all of them will appreciate that,” Kaden said. “Are they all keeping their jobs?”

“Most, yes.”

“Most?”

Rhett removed their clasped hands from his face. “There are a few older guys who I think would benefit from a retirement bonus, but I’m not going to force them out. That would be terrible.”

Kaden opened his mouth to say more, but Lassie jumped up on Rhett’s lap.

“I am not your daddy,” Rhett informed her as he stroked her fur. “Kaden begged for months to bring you home.” The more he explained, the louder she purred while rubbing against him.

“You know, babe, I don’t think you get that choice,” Kaden said, pleased that despite the protests, Rhett wore a relaxed expression as he petted Lassie.

“I do get to decide that she stays out of the bedroom viewing area.”

“Oh?” Kaden tilted his head to the side. “Is there something to view up there? Our best TV is down here.” It took all of his willpower not to hop over the table, put the cat on the floor and straddle his husband once the devilish sparkle lit up his eyes.

“I think you want the neighbors to watch.”

“Why would you say that?”

Rhett leaned forward. “Because you’re wearing a ‘fuck-me-now’ look, and you know what that does to me.”

“Must be mirroring your expression, then.”

Setting Lassie on the ground and pushing out his chair, Rhett said, “Let’s take care of that, shall we?”

“As soon as I clean up.”

“Oh, no, we are not the people who sacrifice sex for cleanliness. The dishes can wait.”

Kaden glanced between the plates streaked with gravy and the orange and white cat, who stared at him while licking her paw. “We are the people with a cat, and if we leave dirty dishes on the table, we’ll be the people with a gravy decorated carpet. Ten minutes. Five if you help.”

“Damn cat,” Rhett muttered, gathering the dishes while Kaden washed the potato pot.

Damn cat inspired faster cleaning than we’ve ever accomplished, Kaden thought as Rhett led him upstairs three minutes later with a sparkling kitchen in their wake.

ABOUT THE AUTHOR:

Liz Borino transcribes the world inside her head onto the page, and shares it with the people who are stuck in the “real world” to makes their lives a little more interesting. Because in her world, heroes fall and stand up again with the help of their partners and friends. Liz’s world is littered with formidable obstacles, which her heroes overcome with a fire of courage and passion. The beauty of love between two men is celebrated. Who wouldn’t want to live there? When not with her heroes, Liz enjoys exploring cities, old abandoned buildings, working toward social justice, and editing for other authors. Liz published eleven books since 2012.  

 Read Donna’s Review of Secrets in the Air posted seperately today!