Title: Torn (En Pointe, Book One)

Series: En Pointe, Book One

Author: Mickie B. Ashling

Publisher: Self Published

Release Date: 3/22

Pairing: Male/Male/Female (Male/Male interaction)

Length: 67,867

Genre: Young Adult, Coming of age, family drama, questioning/bisexual protagonist, homophobia

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Synopsis

Kazimir Lebedez is a shocking anomaly in Russian politics. He’s an honest man who can’t be bought. Because he has no secrets. Until an extramarital love affair results in an illegitimate son he decides to hide in plain sight.

Raised by his adopted grandmother, Misha Vergara has dreamed of dancing ballet since he was a toddler. He exhibits the natural grace and drive to succeed in the competitive world of classical dance.

Natalya Baranova—Talia—is convinced that she and her bestie, Misha, are destined to be the preeminent ballet couple someday. They work diligently on their craft which ultimately leads them to the Mariinsky Theater in St. Petersburg, Russia.

Henri Minas, a new arrival, has all the qualifications to become a principal dancer, with a face and personality that beguiles and confuses Misha.

Torn between his best friend and Henri, Misha must come to terms with his growing feelings for another boy. In a region of the world where same-sex relationships are forbidden, will Misha follow his heart and choose love with Henri, or stay true to Talia and their shared dream of fame?

To make matter’s worse, all of Kazimir’s carefully crafted lies are about to unravel, as the half brother Misha doesn’t know sets his sights on Talia. Now a high-ranking member of the government, can Kaz protect his reputation, and more importantly, his precious love child, without losing it all?

I’d like to thank Dani at Love Bytes for the opportunity to share an exclusive excerpt of Torn, the first book in my En Pointe series. I began this novel at the start of the pandemic, convinced that I would finish it by the time Covid was gone and life returned to normal. As we all know, that’s not what happened. We’re still living with the aftermath of these last two years and doing our best to recover. I’m amazed I even finished this book. The rough draft took over a year and polishing/editing/cover art lasted another six months. And since I don’t own a crystal ball, I had no idea art might imitate real life. Misha, my MC, is half Russian, raised in Tallinn, Estonia by his fearless grandmother, a former revolutionary. This is a coming-of-age story, showcasing Misha’s personal growth. Remember what it was like being a clueless teen? Painful and messy, for one thing, and trying to navigate raging hormones while doing what’s expected by your parents and society is a real challenge. Especially in a country like Russia. Throw in a complicated family dynamic, with enough secrets and lies to choke a cow, and you have enough material for a brand new series. I hope you enjoy this one.

 

Excerpt-Misha’s POV

When the curtains whirred open and the house lights dimmed, the entire corps de ballet was in position. We’d rehearsed a hundred times and were prepared for any eventuality, but when the packed theater let out a collective gasp upon seeing the glorious sets, and spontaneous applause swept through the audience, it felt absolutely surreal. No one had prepared me for this moment, and the short hairs at the back of my neck stood on end.

As youngsters back in Tallinn, Talia and I had talked about a mythical future, dancing in front of a live audience in the most famous theater in Russia, but the reality was far more satisfying. I glanced in her direction, and judging by her brilliant smile and spots of color high on her cheekbones, I knew she was enraptured.

As I waited for my cue, I remembered how it all started.

 

Talia and I had been inseparable as children. She lived a few houses away, and we walked the same route to school each day. Marina, her mother, had become fast friends with Vanaema as they strolled behind us. In the summer, we picnicked at Reiu Beach and showed off our athletic prowess by cartwheeling and tumbling on the sand. In the water, we practiced our lifts without risking serious injury.

The adults had discussed the possibility of enrolling us in gymnastics so we could expend our energy in the right environment, but Talia had vetoed the suggestion, insisting on ballet instead. I’d gone along with her plan because I could never say no to my best friend.

The local teacher, a retired ballerina herself, had agreed to take us on. Alla and Marina huddled together with other hopeful parents in the waiting room of the small studio. Separated by a wall with an enormous glass window, they followed our progress with interest as we were led through the grueling paces. There were no other boys at the barre when I’d first enrolled. Eventually, Henri had joined our group. By then, we were already dreaming about our future on stage.

Onu Janek accompanied us to class for an entire week and watched as I did my level best. As an active patron of the Vaganova Ballet Academy, he’d seen enough dancers to know when someone was going through the motions or wholeheartedly engaged. I came alive the minute I stepped onto the wooden floor. Kinetic energy radiated off me in astonishing waves, and when I glanced in Onu’s direction, I saw tears welling in his arctic-blue eyes. My tentative pirouettes had been met with an approving nod from Madame Stupnitsky who kept time with the beat of her cane, a permanent fixture thanks to a bum knee sustained in a career-ruining fall. After Onu had checked out her credentials and found her deserving, he’d handed over a wad of cash and told her there would be more if she spent extra time with me.

Talia benefited from his patronage because she was my friend. Henri was admitted into our inner circle after handing Onu a bag of classic French croissants, and he’d savored each buttery bite of the crescent-shaped roll. When Talia had insisted on partnering with me, Onu recognized a pas de deux in the making.

A successful pairing depended largely on physique. Before puberty, it was impossible to tell if the match would work or not. The girl couldn’t be taller or heavier than her partner. The boy had to be strong enough to lift his partner without overextending his back. It was a risk to pair such a young couple, in case nature had other ideas, but Talia stubbornly clung to her dream of dancing with me by her side.

Now, in my sixteenth year, I had passed Talia by several inches, and thanks to my consistent bodybuilding, had added many more layers of muscle. I would never be one of the taller dancers, but at five-feet-eleven, I made an excellent partner for Talia who stood at five-feet-four. Even when Talia got en pointe, I bested her by several inches. I could lift her above me without a wobble, and our fish dives were close to perfect. Aside from our physical compatibility, the level of trust between us had been established years ago. Talia never worried about her safety when she launched herself into the air, knowing I would catch her or die trying. Our intuitive connection gave us the upper hand in the special dynamic between partners. We moved as one unit, and I had always put Talia’s safety and comfort first. I encouraged her when she was down, and Talia always boosted my confidence when I stumbled during a difficult movement. It was never a question of who was right or wrong only how we could improve to showcase each other’s best qualities.

Henri was a little over six feet tall and still growing. He would have a lot more choices when it came to partnering, but he wanted a solo career, which was just as well. We wouldn’t have to fight for Talia’s attention, although I knew Henri couldn’t care less about her. The animosity between them that had started when he’d first shown up had continued to grow through the years. It was the dark cloud in our bright future. I tried to smooth the path toward a genuine friendship between my two best friends, but I was always disappointed. Talia accused me of being blind to Henri’s faults, and since he was perfect in my eyes, I couldn’t disagree. Onu advised a gentle let-down because he was convinced Henri was falling in love with me. I told him Henri wasn’t gay. Onu said I was a complete blockhead if I missed the admiration in Henri’s eyes. I continued to speculate about Henri’s orientation until my thirteenth birthday.

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MICKIE B. ASHLING is the pseudonym of a multi-published author who resides in a suburb outside Chicago. She is a product of her upbringing in various cultures, having lived in Japan, the Philippines, Spain, and the Middle East. Fluent in three languages, she’s a citizen of the world and an interesting mixture of East and West.

Since 2009, Mickie has written several dozen novels in the LGBTQ+ genre—which have been translated into French, Italian, Spanish, and German. Some of her backlist is still “Under Construction” as she slowly transitions from traditional publishing to representing herself. Her goal is to have most of her novels back in the universe by the end of 2022. Audiobooks and foreign translations are still available at Amazon and Audible.

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