Book Title: Two Princes
Author: Maggie Blackbird
Publisher: Devine Destinies
Cover Artist: Martine Jardin
Release Date: June 12, 2020
Genre/s: Young Adult, multicultural, contemporary, LGBT romance
Trope/s: Friends to lovers
Themes: Coming of age
Heat Rating: No sexual content – only kissing
Length: 67 345 words/ 235 pages
It is the second book in the When We Were Young series.
Buy Links
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To win over the chief’s haughty son, a drug-dealing punk from a dysfunctional family must risk the only two things he has: his reputation and freedom.
Blurb
Billy Redsky, a rebellious punk who loves art and nature, is saddled with a welfare-leeching, alcoholic mother and criminal older brother who are the joke of their Ojibway community. Sick and tired of being perceived as a loser, Billy deals drugs for his older brother to earn quick money. He hopes if he buys a dirt bike, he’ll finally impress the chief’s popular and aloof son, René Oshawee.
When the two are forced to serve detention together, a friendship blooms, but much to Billy’s frustration, René keeps putting him on ice. To make his biggest dream come true if he finally wants to call René his own, Billy must make a huge decision that could cost him everything.
Billy stared out the passenger window. A blonde cheerleader who always stuck her nose up at him tooted as she pulled into a parking spot. “She’s as phony as a three-dollar bill.”
“What’s so phony about her? Tiffany’s cool.” René took the order from the attendant and handed the bag over to Billy.
“Maybe you wanna hang with two-faced phonies, but I don’t. I call it how I see it. And she’s full of shit. All your homies are assholes.”
René shifted the stick to first and gunned the engine. “And your friends aren’t?”
The guy really should be on the debate team. Billy had a comeback. “Are you calling yourself an asshole?”
“What the—?”
“We’re friends, aren’t we?” Billy clutched the bag.
René’s lips puckered. “Uh, yeah, I guess so.”
“Geez, thanks. Calm down or you’ll have a heart attack.”
“Dude…” René hit his turning signal and guided them out of the parking lot. They whizzed onto Arthur Street. “You’re a sophomore. I’m a senior. Would you chill with someone in grade eight?”
“No way.”
“Then you get where I’m coming from? You’re two grades behind me.”
“We’re only a year apart.” Billy raised his chin. “Your birthday’s on December twenty-eighth, and mine’s January eighth. Not too shabby, huh?”
“Whatever.”
“What d’you mean? I can get you lots of stuff. Going to a party and need a runner? It’s doable.”
“I have my own runner.”
“Daniel?”
“As if.” René guided the truck into the left lane. “My bro wouldn’t buy for anyone who’s underage. He’s as uptight as they come. He hands out more lectures than my teachers.”
“Then who gets your booze?”
“A friend’s older brother. Look, I don’t need booze either. I’m not a skidder.”
“Then what are you?”
“I’m nobody.”
“Nobody? Quit busting my balls.”
René shrugged.
“The school didn’t think of you as nobody last week at the homecoming dance.” All Billy and his buddies had done was stand against the wall, dealing weed while watching Anarchic Aggregation play.
“Yeah, well, as you said—people wear a lot of masks. Phony as three-dollar bills.” René cranked the wheel and steered them onto James Street.
“Masks?”
“Being something they’re not, and what they are behind the mask is who they really are.”
“Why would anyone wanna do that?” If people didn’t dig Billy, tough shit.
“Some don’t have a choice. They gotta be what everyone expects them to be.”
“Like who?”
“I dunno.”
“I ain’t being different for others. Nobody digs my fam anyway. I don’t care.”
“You don’t care.” René clucked his tongue. “Right. Tell me another one.”
“What d’you mean?” Billy stiffened.
“Then why’d you try and impress me yesterday?”
“Shit, what are you, on the debate team or something? You got a comeback for everything.” Billy slunk in his seat. “Big deal if I tried to impress you. It don’t make me some geek.”
“No. But when you were being yourself, I was impressed.”
Billy’s heart stopped beating for a moment. He whipped his head toward René’s smooth jaw and sexy lips. His long fingers grazed the steering wheel.
“You… uh… you…” God, spit it out, dweeb. “You were?” Shit, Billy might as well sit in a pond and croak. “So… so was I… when you were yourself… when you… when you told me to… uh… get behind you when Cinnamon Bear showed up for supper. I… if that… if that was my bro… he would have shucked me at him.”
René’s nose wrinkled. “He would, wouldn’t he? What a loser.”
“Your eyes… they’re always…” The words wouldn’t stop spilling from Billy’s mouth, even though his brain shouted for him to shut his dumb trap or he’d blow his big chance. “I draw, man. I use… um… imagery when I think of people. Your eyes… they’re either cold fudgsicles or dark melted chocolate chips.”
“Wh-what?” René flung his gaze in Billy’s direction.
“You heard me. I’m an artist. It’s how I think.”
René settled his gaze back to the street. “Gotcha.”
“They went totally melted dark chocolate last night. It was you. I saw you. The real you when you stared down at me after we managed to get away from Cinnamon Bear.”
Hot red coated the cheek of René’s straight profile. His head slowly moved in Billy’s direction. If he wasn’t wearing his shades, Billy would bet he’d see dark melted chocolate, ready to drown him in its thick, creamy sweetness.
An Ojibway from Northwestern Ontario, Maggie resides in the country with her husband and their fur babies, two beautiful Alaskan Malamutes. When she’s not writing, she can be found pulling weeds in the flower beds, mowing the huge lawn, walking the Mals deep in the bush, teeing up a ball at the golf course, fishing in the boat for walleye, or sitting on the deck at her sister’s house, making more wonderful memories with the people she loves most.
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