Road to Blissville Series, Book 2
RELEASE DATE: 09.05.17
PHOTOGRAPHER: Wander Aguiar
COVER ARTIST: Jay Aheer/Simply Defined Art
Psychic Emory Jackson and former black ops specialist Jonathon Silver are men from two completely different worlds with one thing in common: heartbreak. Emory still mourns the loss of his husband five years prior, and Jon is reeling with grief from the recent death of his twin brother.
Sparks fly when mutual friends introduce them, but it’s so much more than basic attraction. There’s an undeniable awareness and a sense of belonging that neither man can deny. Despite Emory’s premonition of a future with Jon, he has vowed never to love again. Jon is convinced that his tainted soul is the reason he will never have someone to call his own. What if they’re both wrong?
Maybe these broken men with their jagged edges could somehow align perfectly to form something whole and beautiful. But will that realization come too late for them?
Someone To Call My Own is the 2nd book in a spin off of the Curl Up and Dye Mysteries. And while this can be read as a stand alone, reading the other books will give you a better understanding of all of the characters. Plus, the other books are really fun.
So let’s start with that. The Curl Up and Dye mysteries were fun books. I enjoyed them a lot, and although they were definitely high on the cute meter, they didn’t tip the edge into sugary sweet. All of the characters were fun and held their own in the stories.
Book 1 in the Road to Blissville series was a little bit more mature, but still really fun. How can Dr Dimples and Chaz not be fun really?
Book 2 is definitely more serious and mature. And that is a good thing. These particular characters needed that. They needed to be more “grown up”, more serious, more angsty. Emory himself called for that seriousness and Jonathan fit right in.
We get a lot more back story from Emory. Exactly what happened to bring him to Blissville in the first place. There is quite a bit of story telling overlap-which is a big plus if you are reading this as a stand alone, but got slightly tedious at times. After that bit, the story really rolled along.
And poor Emory. I just wanted to hug him. He was so broken. Jonathan didn’t give up though. He gives him space at times and invades his space at other times. The romance was a slow build- but that was what these guys needed.
We see all of our favorite characters again- always a favorite of mine- and we get a few new characters as well. Perfect set up for the next book.
An easy 4 pieces of eye candy for me because of how effortlessly Ms Walker is able to write each character and book with their own voice.
“I think we need to clear the air,” Jonathon said in a calm, rational voice.
“There’s nothing to clear,” I countered. “I’m nothing to you; you’re nothing to me.”
“You think it’s that simple?” Jonathon took two steps toward me. I took three steps back. Jon jerked to a stop when he saw my reaction. “Emory…” He broke off and ran both his hands through his hair. “I know you felt it the night we met. I saw your eyes widen in surprise when the electricity shot through our bodies.”
“So.” Denying it existed wasn’t working. It was time to change tactics. “That doesn’t mean I want or will act on it.” I ran my hand over the infinity tattoo I had inked over my heart. It felt like River’s name was burning my skin like he knew the truth and was calling me a liar. Or, maybe it was anxiety that gripped my heart in its tight fist. Whatever the reason, I felt lightheaded and dizzy. Suddenly, my body felt cold and hot at the same time, and tiny little needles pricked my skin from head to toe. I licked my lips that had suddenly gone dry and numb.
“Emory?” I heard Jonathon’s voice, but it sounded like he was calling to me at the end of a very long tunnel instead of five feet away. He walked toward me, but I kept backing away. I hoped he would stop, but I saw the determination in his eyes. “Emory, I just want to help you.”
“Then leave,” I wheezed between gasps.
“I’d never leave anyone alone in this condition,” Jonathon said angrily. “Now be quiet and let me help you.” He gripped my bicep firmly, but not painfully, and guided me to a kitchen chair. He gently set me in the chair then placed his hand on my stomach beneath the center of my ribs and the other on my chest. I burned beneath his touch. I wrapped my hands around his thick wrists and tried to push his hands off of me. “Stop it, Emory,” he said firmly. “You’re hyperventilating, and I can help you. I. Will. Not. Hurt. You.”
Hot tears of humiliation flowed freely down my face. No one had ever seen me in the midst of a panic attack and I’d always been able to pull myself out of them on my own. That one was different, and I knew I needed help.
“Ignore my hands on your body, but look into my eyes and listen to me.” His demanding, deep voice was nearly hypnotic. “Inhale deeply through yo
ur nose, Emory. Hold it for a count of three and release it slowly. When you do, you’ll feel my hands moving up and down with your lungs, and your brain will recognize you’re breathing even before the fresh oxygen pushes the carbon dioxide out of your body. Do it with me, Emory.”
I breathed in slowly, held it for three seconds, and released it. I focused on the way his hands moved up and down with my breathing and pretended that I expelled all the bad energy with every exhale. I repeated the process ten or twelve times before I was completely calm again.
Jonathon pulled his hands off of me and balled them into fists. He didn’t look angry or like he wanted to hit me. It looked like he needed to do something with his hands but wasn’t sure what. He lowered himself into a chair beside me.
“What caused your panic attack?”
“You,” I replied sullenly.
“Emory, I haven’t done anything to you so why would the sight of me cause you to panic?” Jonathon sounded truly baffled and a little insulted.
I knew it would take drastic measures to push him away, so I let him have it with both barrels. “I had a psychic vision about you—well. Us.”
I am a wife and mother to three kids, three dogs, and a cat. When I’m not dreaming up stories, I like to lose myself in a good book, cook or bake. I’m a girly tomboy
who paints her fingernails while watching sports and yelling at the referees.
I will always choose the book over the movie. I believe in happily-ever-after. Love inspires everything that I do. Music keeps me sane.