Book Name: Pure Innocence
Series: Pure # 3
Series should be read in order. Book two
should definitely be read to understand book three.
Release
Date: June 6, 2015
Pages or Words: 48,000 words
Categories: Contemporary, M/M Romance, BDSM (though only mentioned due to background. There is no direct BDSM in this book.)
Publisher: Dark Hollows Press
Cover
Artist: 3 Rusted Spoons
Blurb:
They’d finally
caught the madman who had been kidnapping, torturing and murdering submissives.
Damon had knelt in that warehouse, clutching Oliver, the boy barely alive, and
somehow in the weeks that followed Damon never seemed to be able to let him go.
Oliver is
broken, in body, mind, and spirit. And for the first time since he brought him
home from the hospital, Damon starts to question himself. Is he going to be
enough for Oliver? If he can somehow find all the pieces of Oliver’s broken
soul, will he be able to mend them? Or have the horrors that ripped through
Oliver left too many holes for Damon to repair? And finally, if he tries and
fails to put Oliver back together, will Damon be able to stop his own heart
from shattering in the process?
Excerpt:
Oliver breathed. A breath so
shallow and so insignificant, the urgency and determination with which his
lungs insisted on it surprised him, because breathing had been so hard. It had
become so impossible to expand his lungs fully; the futility finally stopped
him from trying.
He took another small hesitant
breath, and stilled in shock, almost. He hated the dampness, the cold, and he
tried to protect his lungs against that, but he’d caught a scent of something
else—something clean, fresh, that came with a strong voice and gentle hands
that didn’t hurt. Oliver desperately wished it was real.
Pain.
Just four letters. Such a small
word for something that filled his mind and summed up his existence. It wasn’t
just the horrific hot pokers that stabbed at his fingers and needled his heart.
It was the black feeling that caged him, wrapped him up and would never let him
go. He wanted to die, but it wasn’t just him—everyone wanted him to die. From
the time he was little, his mom had screamed, “I wish you were never born.” He hadn’t been old enough to understand
the words but he knew what she meant. Then came the nightmare that was school.
He had no idea why he’d been picked on.
Yes,
yes I did. The
bullies knew he was from the trailer park, and knew no one would complain. It
wasn’t just his looks; he knew what the word “fag” meant before sixth grade.
When his mom had said he was done with school at twelve, he’d been secretly
relieved, until he’d found out what she’d expected him to do instead. That was
the first time he’d started wishing he was dead instead of just listening to
other people say it.
He moaned, and tried to bite the
sound back. If he made a noise the
nightmare would come back, and when he just lay quietly, he could pretend
the nightmare didn’t exist. He had screamed for so many days at first when no
one had heard him, then he had tried to be as desperately still and quiet as he
could. He tried not to drink the water but he’d made him. All he’d had to do
was touch his fingers, and the pain would have made him do anything. His throat
burned; he was so thirsty but he couldn’t swallow. Panic wove an insidious path
through his arteries. Some machine beeped faster in time with his heart.
“Hey, hush. You’re safe.”
Oh. Oh. The voice, that voice. He was back, but it wasn’t real—he wasn’t real—this was all something
Oliver’s imagination had sent to taunt him, make him believe the quiet words
and the gentle touches were really for him, but he knew they couldn’t be. It
was the drugs—it must be—conjuring something he could never have. Playing with
him. Toying with him. He tried to move his head, but everything seemed so
heavy, numb.
Something had touched his cheek. He—it was
soft, no not soft, that wasn’t the right word. Almost warm, almost…comforting.
Oliver could vaguely hear other voices, felt movement around him, which was
confusing, because it had just been him and the nightmare for so long, and he
didn’t know where he was. He tried to work it out...who, or what…but he was so
tired, so desperately tired…
Something touched him again, and
not in anger, not trying to hurt—it was a hand. Not just any hand, his hand—the one who came and talked to
him, the voice, the source of comfort. Oliver leaned, ever so slightly. He
didn’t have the strength to do more, and the hand held him still, warm, safe.
He breathed in a little. Yes, the same clean smell.
“You going to open your eyes
today, gorgeous?”
Gorgeous?
Him? He couldn’t
mean him. It was a mistake. Now he knew he had lost his mind. The guys that
came this close to him never smelled good, and they were definitely never
gentle.
Oliver’s heart started beating
faster, and he could hear some machine with its annoying beeping getting
louder. He couldn’t open his eyes. If he opened them everything would become real,
and he couldn’t cope with any more reality. Not yet, maybe not ever. Mind
numbing terror met him whenever he opened his eyes.
“I know you’re awake. It’s like
being fastened to a lie detector.” The amused voice carried on. “Would you like
some water?” Oliver opened cracked lips painfully to refuse, he didn’t trust
the water, but felt something cold and wet touch them, and it robbed him of
sound. It was ice, and cool trickles dropped onto his parched tongue. “Those
lips look sore.”
Oliver was confused with the
voice, tried not to trust the soothing words. Then his heart slammed in his
ribs as he felt the cold swipe of something brush his lips. Slow, confident,
but infinitely gentle. It was almost...almost caring. Which was completely ridiculous. No one cared about Oliver.
No one had cared about Oliver in a really long time, which was fine, because
Oliver didn’t really care about Oliver any more.
“Ice is good, but water would be
better.”
Oliver held his breath a little
at the sound of the voice. He wanted to believe it was real, that it belonged
to someone who cared.
Could he? Dare he? Oliver parted
dry lips again and closed them over a straw. He sipped slowly, a tiny mouthful.
The taste was different, better, fresh.
“Much better.”
He was glad he didn’t seem to
need an answer, but the hand had been taken away to get the water. The water
was wonderful, but he wanted, needed, the touch more. The hand moved back and
the beeping slowed. Just a gentle tick. He heard a soft click and then a thumb
gently smoothed something cooling over his dry lips.
“There. You tell me if anything
else hurts.”
Oliver didn’t have the strength
to reply, and wasn’t sure he could get his voice to work anyhow. He could feel
his mind slipping away again, but he didn’t care. He moved his face a fraction,
and settled deeper into the touch. Warmth seeped into him, and he heard a soft
chuckle. He could have smiled almost as the warmth from the sound wrapped him
up.
Whatever this was, whoever he
was, if he could just hold on to the thought that someone cared for a little
while longer before it was taken away...
Sales Links: BookStrand ARe Amazon DHP Smashwords
About the
author:
MM Love stories - because the only thing better than
one hot guy is two of them.
Has
loved books for as long as she can remember. Books were always what pocket
money went on and what usually Father Christmas brought. When she ran out of
her kids' adventure stories, she would go raid her mom's. By the age of eight
she was devouring classics like Little Women, and fell in love with love
stories.
She's
still in love with them. Any size, any shape, any creature - love is love, no
matter what it says on the box.
In fact if they don't fit very neatly into any box she loves them even more!
In fact if they don't fit very neatly into any box she loves them even more!
She
has a very patient husband and three wonderful children. In 2010 in search of
adventure they all moved from the UK to the US and are happily settled in
Florida. Finally, after reading love stories for so long, she decided to write
her own.
Q and A with Victoria Sue
Writing wise? Two more Pure
stories. Book 1 and 2 of a new series called Sirius' Wolves. I'm also writing an
mm regency historical
2. What do you like to
read?
mm mainly, but i like some m/f paranormal and
bdsm
3. What do you look for when choosing a book to read?
Usually if its an author I like, but i take a lot of notice of mm book recs
group on FB
4. Do you pay attention to literary
criticism?
Yes,
absolutely. Very important as a new
author.
5. What does the word "romantic" mean to
you?
A happy ever after- absolutely has
to be for me.
6. What is number one on your bucket list?
Seychelles and Australia
7. What is the best gift you ever gave?What is the best gift you ever received?
Received - my kindle. It started me writing. Gave
-plane tickets - so my new granddaughter could visit
9. Do you have a specific writing style?
8. What inspired you to write your first
book? My kindle!! Seriously, I devoured all mm books, then i read one I'd
paid quite a lot for and thought it was rubbish. My husband dared me to
try.
9. Do you have a specific writing style?
I often get up around
3.30am and manage to get 2000 words done before the world wakes
up.
10. How do you
come up with the titles?
Pure - because it was
something special. Indulgence because it was how i felt when i wrote it.
Innocence because I think Oliver is, and my next one - Integrity - because the
Dom has it in spades. (Or paddles
lol)
Giveaway!!!
Tour
Dates & Stops: June 15 – June 26, 2015
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hi and congrats
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