Love Bytes says hello an welcome to author Anna Zabo who joins us today to celebrate new release “Syncopation”. Anna Shares an exclusive excerpt and there is a giveaway you can participate in.
Welcome Anna 🙂
Syncopation by Anna Zabo
Series: Twisted Wishes #1
Publisher: Carina Press
Release Date: April 9, 2018
Length: ~295 pages
Subgenre: contemporary romance; m/m romance
Includes: Rockstars, BDSM, Angst, Pansexual/bisexual, Aromantic
Synopsis:
There’s no resisting the thrum of temptation in this male/male rock-star romance from genre-favorite author Anna Zabo!
Twisted Wishes front man Ray Van Zeller is in one hell of a tight spot. After a heated confrontation with his bandmate goes viral, Ray is hit with a PR nightmare the fledgling band so doesn’t need. But his problems only multiply when they snag a talented new drummer—insufferably sexy Zavier Demos, the high school crush Ray barely survived.
Zavier’s kept a casual eye on Twisted Wishes for years, and lately, he likes what he sees. What he doesn’t like is how out of control Ray seems—something Zavier’s aching to correct after their first pulse-pounding encounter. If Ray’s up for the challenge.
Despite the prospect of a glorious sexual encore, Ray is reluctant to trust Zavier with his band—or his heart. And Zavier has always had big dreams; this gig was supposed to be temporary. But touring together has opened their eyes to new passions and new possibilities, making them rethink their commitments, both to the band and to each other.
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Once the kid was gone, Ray closed his eyes and rubbed his forehead. No one they’d heard play was up to Kevin’s original quality. A few were serviceable drummers who could build up to the tricky rhythms, but they needed someone now, not in six months to a year. The kid was the last audition they had booked. “We’re screwed.”
Domino took a breath before speaking. “Actually, there’s one more audition today.” For someone dressed in all black, wearing a studded leather collar and two-inch platform boots that could crush skulls, Dom looked remarkably sheepish.
“Yeah?” Ray stomped over to the schedule and picked it up. “There’s nothing written down.” He threw the clipboard on the table.
Mish blew out a breath and backed away, hands in the air. “This is between you boys.”
“I should have written it down. Carl approved him this morning, but…” Dom fiddled with the strings of his guitar. “I didn’t know how you’d react.”
“How I’d—” Except for Kevin, he couldn’t think of anyone he’d throw out the door. “Who the hell is auditioning?”
“Me.”
Smooth voice, like those images of melted chocolate in commercials. Vaguely familiar, too. Tingles ran down both of Ray’s legs, and he rotated toward the door.
There, leaning against the frame, was Zavier Demos. Older, improbably hotter, and still as perfect as ever.
“No.”
Fucker flashed a gorgeous smile. “Nice to see you, too, Ray.”
No wonder Dom hadn’t put him on the list. Ray would have crossed his name right back off due the lingering anger from high school. Zavier had been everything he’d wanted to be. Born with rock-star looks and a rock-star name, and a musical prodigy to boot. Fucking asshole had laughed all those years ago when Ray had asked him to join his first band.
“I thought you went to learn to play real music at Juilliard.” He let bitterness slip into his voice.
“I did go to Juilliard.” Zavier pushed off the doorframe and strode into the room, right up to Ray. Close enough that his black hair glinted in the overhead lighting. “All music is real. Yours especially.”
He’d forgotten how blue Zavier’s eyes were. They’d hardly crossed paths back in the day—seniors with scholarships didn’t hang out with dorky sophomores with garage bands. Zavier’s words threw him, though. “I— Thank you.”
Zavier smiled, as if Ray had given the correct answer to some unknown question, and every bit of Ray lit up, as if he were still a pining sixteen-year-old. Fuck that to hell. He pushed the giddiness away.
“Shall I play for you? Or do you want to play for me?” Zavier’s words stroked over Ray like a lover’s fingers.
Holy hell, it was a good thing Carl had gotten bored early in the day. That was a line. Would have fallen for it back in school, too. “Well, you’re here to play for us.” He gestured to Mish and Domino.
“A ménage, then.”
Dom had this odd expression, halfway between fear and wonder, but then he had probably had it worse for Zavier back in school. Not by much, though.
Mish was grinning her head off. “Oh, you’re fucked up. I like you.”
Zavier laughed, and even that was bell-like.
How fucking perfect can one man be? Guess they’d find out. “You wanna play? Kit’s over there.” Ray pointed at the drums. “How much of our music do you know?”
No answer until Zavier sat behind the drums, adjusted the stool, and took stock of the equipment. He tapped on the snare with his finger. “All of it.” He looked straight at Ray. “Well—all that you’ve released.”
Flutters of hope skimmed through Ray’s chest, mixing with the tumult of emotions already churning there. He swallowed. “That’s all we need.” He’d been working on a few new songs, but without Kevin sober, there’d been no hope of anything beyond lyrics.
Zavier nodded, then picked up a pair of sticks and ran through a round on the kit, testing each instrument. It was stunning. Unlike the puppy before him, Zavier had a calm, determined demeanor, and he played—even for the few minutes it took to drink in the equipment—as if he owned every single inch of the kit.
When he finished, he flicked one stick around in his hand. “What would you like me to play?”
Everything. Anything. God, those hands. “Since you say you know them all, why don’t you pick?”
Domino raised an eyebrow. Yeah, unorthodox, but Ray wanted to know—wanted to hear from those lips—which of his songs Zavier Demos would choose.
A flicker of a smile, then Zavier spoke. “‘White Hot Midnight.’”
That song. Oh fuck. Wasn’t even on the album. It had been on a demo tape, but had been deemed too challenging for mainstream, whatever that meant. They played it in concert anyway and the fans loved it. There were even some people with lyrics tattooed on them. Blew Ray’s mind every time someone showed him in the autograph line.
It also contained some of the most complex drumming Kevin had ever done. They hadn’t played it much recently, for obvious reasons.
Ray surveyed Mish and Domino. “You guys okay with that?”
Dom nodded. Mish saluted. “Just give us a moment to tune,” she said.
They did, and everyone stared at Ray expectantly. “You going to sing?” Zavier cocked his head.
He hadn’t been, not much anyway, because he’d wanted to hear the drumming, not his own voice. “Yeah. I’ll sing.” He took up the mic, tapped it to make sure it was on, and nodded.
It started with the drums—nearly every song did—and after three taps of the sticks, Zavier hit it.
Oh god, it was glorious. Even more so when Dom and Mish joined. Ray threw his voice on top, the words pouring out like they did on stage, in front of hundreds. Thousands. Except now he was only singing for one person. He closed his eyes and let it all go.
Loneliness. Jealousy. Growing up. Letting go. Getting the fuck over things. He’d written the lyrics to “White Hot Midnight” when he’d seen a photo of Zavier in a tux in at his first concert after graduating from Juilliard. The poise. The sophistication. A guy completely out of his league. Ray had been out of high school two years then, in community college and struggling to create a band.
When the solos started, Ray listened, eyes hooded, staring at the floor and the mic cord running against it. Dark against light. A hint of deep orange. Wasn’t Kevin playing—the rhythm in his bones told him that. Every beat, every syncopation, was deeper, more right, exquisite. New touches added here and there. Zavier had turned Kevin’s drum line into his own—and outstripped it.
Fuck, this was going to work. When the chorus came again, he lifted his gaze to watch Zavier and sang.
All the wilderness
Here in my mind
All I ever wanted
You never knew
The carnage left behind
Alone I lie here
In the white hot midnight
Zavier was lost in a world of his own, playing with a grace and fluidity that made drumming look easy. Lips parted, eyes so bright, body alive.
When Ray started in on the last repeat, their eyes met, and Zavier nodded, as if he were part of the band.
As the last notes faded and silence fell on them, Ray realized he was. There wasn’t any other drummer at all. Zavier hadn’t auditioned—he’d taken them all on and won.
Even Mish was speechless, which never happened.
From behind the drum kit, Zavier still held Ray’s stare. No words, but he knew they were a band. That lay in that smile, the triumph written into his shoulders and arms.
You bastard. The thought flitted through Ray’s mind, even as his soul melted from the fading echoes of music that he hadn’t heard the likes of since Kevin hit the bottle. You bastard. You knew that song was about you.
Finally, he spoke. “When can you start?”
That slick grin wanted to turn him inside out. “As soon as you need me.”
Now. Ray needed him now.
They had a band again. And he had another hard-on for Zavier Demos. Shit.
Anna Zabo writes contemporary and paranormal romance for all colors of the rainbow. They live and work in Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania, which isn’t nearly as boring as most people think.
Anna grew up in the wilds of suburban Philadelphia before returning to their ancestral homelands in Western Pennsylvania. As a child they were heartily disappointed to discover that they couldn’t grow up to be what they wanted (a boy, a cat, a dragon), so they settled on being themself whenever possible, which may be a combination of a boy, a cat, and a dragon. Or perhaps a girl, a knight, and a writer. Depends on whom you ask. They do have a penchant for colorful ties and may be hording a small collection of cufflinks.They can be easily plied with coffee.
Anna has an MFA in Writing Popular Fiction from Seton Hill University, where they fell in with a roving band of romance writers and never looked back. They also have a BA in Creative Writing from Carnegie Mellon University.
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