Hello to Two Chicks!! I’m thrilled to be here doing a cover reveal for my new Dreamspinner duo anthology On the Streets of New Orleans.
As a native New Orleanian and a transplanted Texan, I’ve written quite a few books set in both Texas and Louisiana. Both places hold pieces of my heart, but New Orleans definitely edges Texas out (sorry my Texas peeps!). It’s where I’m from and my true home.
With a little over 40 books/novellas under my belt, these books are some of my dearest.
I’m so honored to have my cover reveal here and so proud of the beautiful covers the amazing artist AngstyG produced for me. It was so easy working with AngstyG and as you can see, the results just sing!
This is one of my re-released stories and I’m so proud to say it’s coming out with DSP. They are a company I’ve admired and wanted to join for a few years, but never had the opportunity. I’m so glad they enjoyed my stories enough to give me this chance. I hope there will be many more stories to come!
For my reveal, I’m offering a ebook copy, in choice of format, for a lucky commenter to the blog. I’ll let Two Chicks do the selecting, but I’ll ask when you comment, let me know if you’ve ever been to New Orleans or wanted to go there. It’s one of the places I never get tired of visiting, and those who know me, know I plan all my trips there around the food. If you’ve been, tell me about your favorite meal!
Thanks again to Two Chicks for letting me crash and show off my cover!
TCO: Thank you to Lynn for stopping by with this amazing cover and excerpt! Great job by AngstyG.
Breakfast at Tiffany’s Waffles and Wings
A year after Hurricane Katrina, Scott is back in the city he loves, the city that offered him sanctuary from rural Louisiana and its prejudices, but living in a homeless shelter can be almost as dangerous as the streets.
The storm cost Tony his family, his home, and his direction in life. Now he’s squatting and stealing to make ends meet, and he’s lost all hope of things getting better.
When Scott and Tony meet, they realize it’s time to stop merely surviving. It’s time to start living again. Together.
Charlie is an ex-addict plagued by memories of the past. He’s doing penance working at a homeless shelter, staying away from men, drugs, and anything resembling happiness. He’s convinced he doesn’t deserve more.
Devon is determined to keep the dealers out of his neighborhood. No one operates there without his permission. When he brings a sick young man, who was selling drugs, to the mission he meets Charlie and can’t stop thinking of the man with the haunted eyes. He’s determined to give Charlie a taste of pleasure, despite Charlie’s claims that he’s not worthy of it.
The kid had stopped running, and now he quick-footed it. Tony managed to get within a block of him. They were coming up on the Café du Monde, and when the smell of the frying beignets hit his nostrils, his tummy growled. Yeah, they sure would taste some good right about now.
And he had the money to buy them. And a cup of good café au lait too.
He licked his lips as he paused on the sidewalk across from the place. All he had to do was cross the street, sit in a chair, and order up some.
Tony glanced back at the kid. He’d crossed to the next block, and soon he’d be out of sight.
With a deep inhale, Tony sucked in the aroma of the beignets, then took off down the block to catch up with the white guy. He’d get the food on the way back, for sure.
He closed the gap between them. Where the hell was this guy heading? Esplanade Avenue was just ahead, and once he crossed that, he’d be in the Fouberg Marigny.
The kid stopped for a lone car, then crossed Esplanade, the shadows of the huge oaks plunging him into darkness. For a moment Tony thought he’d lost the guy, but he stepped up on the far sidewalk and back into the light.
Tony smiled and hurried on.
Two blocks in, his target turned into an alley and disappeared.
Halting, Tony stared at the sign over the two-story building, his mouth hanging open, watering at the sight and the smells.
Tiffany’s Waffles and Wings
Breakfast served all day
What the hell? That was a damned long way to walk for some breakfast. What was the kid up to?
Tony moved forward, scanning both sides of the street. Light poured out from the two large windows that fronted the sidewalk, the door to the place between them. Parked cars lined both sides of the street, belonging to either residents or customers; he didn’t know which. Didn’t care.
He crept to the window and peeked in.
The place was crowded, not full, but at four in the morning, not bad at all. He glanced at the table nearest the window and moaned.
The biggest, most bodacious waffle he’d ever seen sat on a huge platter, three pats of butter melting on it, surrounded by three of the most golden, succulent-looking, mouth-watering, crispy fried chicken wings.
Sweet Jesus. He’d died and gone to heaven.
Scott pulled his apron over his head and tied it around his waist.
“Where y’at, sugar?” Miss Tiffany greeted him as she looked up from the counter where she tended a row of six waffle makers. “You late.”
“Yes, ma’am.” Scott nodded as he checked out her latest hair-do. This morning, she wore dozens of braids decorated with black and gold beads. They matched the black and gold Saints jersey she wore over black leggings. He’d never seen a woman with so many different ways to wear her hair, and he suspected most of them weren’t really hers.
She frowned at him. A beep sounded, and she rotated a waffle machine to cook the other side of the waffle. Then she brushed off her hands and came over to him, snatching his chin and head in her large red-brown hands as she stared at the marks on his face.
“Who did this, dawlin’?” Storms swirled in her deep amber eyes.
“Someone jumped me and took my money. I’m fine.” He knew better than to try to jerk away from her. She was strong as hell from lifting forty-pound bags of waffle mix and gallon jugs of milk. But the rest of her was round as a peach and soft as a goose down pillow.
“He got yo money?” She tsked, shook her head, and let him go.
“Just five dollars.” He shrugged. He had more in a savings account in the bank, where he kept most of his money. But it was the weekend, and no banks were open. Any cash he’d need would have to come from his tips today.
“You call the po-po?”
“No. No police.” He shook his head, and she nodded in unspoken agreement. What was the point in calling the police? The cops were overworked and stretched thin. Scott and Miss Tiffany both knew nothing would be done, and then he’d just have the cops noticing him.
“Damn. Can’t a boy walk down the street without gettin’ mugged?” She gave him a quick kiss on his cheek and a slap on his ass as she turned him around. “Go on. Get in there. I got tables need busin’. Then you can wait tables.”
Lynn Lorenz is an award-winning and best-selling author who grew up in New Orleans but currently lives in Texas, where she’s a fan of all things Texan, like Longhorns, big hair, and cowboys in tight jeans. She’s never met a comma she didn’t like, and enjoys editing and brainstorming with other writers. Lynn spends most of her time writing about hot sex with even hotter heroes, plot twists, werewolves, and medieval swashbucklers. She’s currently at work on her latest book, making herself giggle and blush, and avoiding all the housework.