Book Name: The Art of Hero Worship
Release
Date: February 14, 2016
Blurb:
Trembling on the floor, pressed beneath a row of seats in a
dark theater, college freshman Jason Tripp listens to the terrifying sound of
gunshots, as an unknown shooter moves methodically through the theater,
randomly murdering men, women, and children attending a student performance of Hamlet. Junior Liam Norcross drapes his
massive body on top of Jason, sheltering the younger man from the deathly hail
of bullets, risking his life willingly, and maybe even eagerly.
As a result of the shared horror, an extraordinary bond
forms between the two young men, which causes discomfort for family and
friends, as well as for Jason and Liam, themselves. And added to the challenge
of two previously “straight” men falling into a same-sex love, are the
complications that arise from the abundance of secrets Liam holds with regard
to a past family tragedy. The fledgling passion between the men seems bound to
fade away into the darkness from which it emerged.
Jason, however, is inexplicably called to rescue his hero in
return, by delving into Liam’s shady past and uncovering the mystery that
compels the older man to act as the college town’s selfless savior.
The
Art of Hero Worship takes the reader on a voyage from the dark and chilling
chaos that accompanies a mass shooting to the thrill of an unexpected and
sensual romance.
Pages or Words: 212 pages
Categories: Contemporary, Crime Fiction,
Gay Fiction,
Excerpt:
Pop-pop-pop….
No, I’m not even remotely safe. But
thankfully I play dead far better than my dog did when I taught him that trick
at the age of seven.
The shots are earsplitting and getting
louder because the shooter’s heading our way. I’m so fucking scared I’m
trembling violently, but I promised the guy lying on top of me that I’d stay
still. I concentrate on taking short shallow breaths, one after another, in my
effort to stop trembling. To stay frozen—like I’ve been since I pulled Ginny to
the floor and promptly let go of her hand so I could curl up into a tight fetal
ball.
Somebody near me sits up, scrambles to his
knees, and impulsively crawls toward the far aisle.
Pop-pop-pop…
“Bang, bang… you’re dead.” The voice comes
from directly above me; it’s blank and monotone and controlled. The weird
snicker that follows is chilling. I want nothing more than to throw the big guy
off my back and run like hell toward the double doors, but I just keep on going
with the short breaths and stay as still as I’ve ever been in my life. Even in
my terrified state, I know that the guy on top of me is totally exposed and I
can’t move because I’ll cheat him out of his life, for sure. Which is so not cool when he’s trying to save
mine.
I smell blood. Never noticed the smell of
blood before. It reminds me of Grandma’s penny collection… if it got spilled
onto the sticky floor of the theater. The scent of old copper is everywhere…
like wet pennies strewn all around me on the floor.
Pop-pop-pop…
Shooter’s right above us now. Don’t move… don’t move… don’t move….
“Dear God, help us!” This request seems to catch the shooter’s
attention and he turns around and steps away from us. I curse myself for
feeling as relieved, and maybe even glad, as I do.
Pop-pop-pop….
We wait and it seems like forever. We wait
as voices beg and plead and pray and he shuts them up with bullets. We wait as
the sound of shots moves to the front left near the exit, where I figure he’s shooting
at anyone who tries to get out through the double doors.
And then, for a second, it’s quiet.
“Now….” The big guy’s voice is whispering
but it seems to blast into my left ear. “We have to make our move now.” Before I agree, the heaviness of
his body lifts and I feel cold and exposed. “This is our chance to get outta
here….”
His hand is attached to the back of my
wrist, clutching me so hard that I know I’ll have fingerprint bruises for a
week… if I live so long.
Buy the book:
Meet the author:
Mia
Kerick is the mother of four exceptional children—all named after saints—and
five nonpedigreed cats—all named after the next best thing to saints, Boston
Red Sox players. Her husband of twenty years has been told by many that he has
the patience of Job, but don’t ask Mia about that, as it is a sensitive
subject.
Mia
focuses her stories on the emotional growth of troubled young men and their
relationships, and she believes that sex has a place in a love story, but not
until it is firmly established as a love story. As a teen, Mia filled
spiral-bound notebooks with romantic tales of tortured heroes (most of whom
happened to strongly resemble lead vocalists of 1980s big-hair bands) and
stuffed them under her mattress for safekeeping. She is thankful to CoolDudes
Publishing, Dreamspinner Press, Harmony Ink Press for providing her with an
alternate place to stash her stories.
Mia
is proud of her involvement with the Human Rights Campaign and cheers for each
and every victory made in the name of marital equality. Her only major regret:
never having taken typing or computer class in school, destining her to a life
consumed with two-fingered pecking and constant prayer to the Gods of
Technology.
Where to find the author:
Facebook Author Page: https://www.facebook.com/Mia-KerickAuthor-231404220346244/
Twitter: https://www.facebook.com/Mia-KerickAuthor-231404220346244/
Newsletter Sign Up: http://eepurl.com/bCLWfT
Amazon Author Page:
Publisher: Cool Dudes Publishing
Cover
Artist: Louis C. Harris
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