Total pages in book: 97
Estimated words: 92536 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 463(@200wpm)___ 370(@250wpm)___ 308(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 92536 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 463(@200wpm)___ 370(@250wpm)___ 308(@300wpm)
Liam, a professional ballet dancer from New York City, moves to the tiny town of Swan, Oklahoma, with a mission. Haunted by what he endured as a teenager, he returns as an adult to conquer his fears and challenge the town’s outdated prejudices. He plans to modernize Swan by opening a dance studio and showing its residents that there’s a place for everyone and all should be accepted.
Tate has never traveled beyond the Oklahoma border and knows little of life beyond his small rural town and blue-collar job. Deeply entrenched in secrecy and surrounded by people who’d never accept him if they knew what he hid beneath the surface, he’s resigned to a life of lies and loneliness.
Liam and Tate’s worlds collide a safe distance from Swan, where they form an instant connection but plan to walk away after one night, no matter how much more their encounter leaves them yearning for. Fate, however, has other plans. When Tate shows up for a renovation job at Liam’s new studio, their initial shock gives way to a tentative friendship with complicated emotions.
The pressures of small-town life, narrow-minded family members, and Tate's insecurities threaten their budding connection from day one. Liam is determined to show Tate the beauty of living as his true self, but Tate has seen the consequences of such a life firsthand, and they’ve imprinted on his mind.
As they grapple with their feelings and the harsh realities of Swan, Liam and Tate must decide if love is worth the risk. Can they find a way to be together in a world that seems set against them?
*************FULL BOOK START HERE*************
PROLOGUE
“WILL YOU HURRY up already?” Randy hollered as he kicked a spray of dusty rocks down the dirt path. He spun, cupping his hands over his mouth and shouting, “Next time, I’ll bring that broken-down stroller in front of Old Man Hinkle’s trailer so I can roll your slow ass. At least we’d get there faster.”
Randy back-walked along the dirt road a good thirty feet in front of Tate with a forty of Budweiser sticking out from his back pocket. His hair, the same dark blond as Tate’s, was buzzed short as always. He constantly teased Tate for leaving it a bit longer and shaggier, calling him a girl and asking if he wanted pink bows for his birthday.
Tate rolled his eyes. His damn brother wasn’t breathing if he wasn’t acting dramatic or ragging on someone. “Where’s the damn fire?” he yelled back. “Pretty sure you’ve never given a shit about the county fair before. It ain’t going nowhere for five days. Why you gotta rush me? It’s too hot to walk fast.”
“The fire’s in my fucking pants,” Randy said, jiggling his crotch as he waggled his eyebrows. “Whit’s gonna be there. She told Ginger if I find her ’fore Daryl, she’ll blow me, but if he gets there first, he’s gonna get his cock sucked insteada me. So fucking move it.”
Oh, for fuck’s sake. Tate slowed his pace, shooting his brother a smirk. “Has Whit seen those pubes on your face? Cuz if she has, it won’t matter what time you show up. She ain’t gonna blow you if she sees you looking like a walking ball sac.”
“Fuck you,” Randy said, stroking his new, patchy goatee. It grew darker than the rest of his hair, making him look stupid as hell. “Ma said it makes me look like a movie star.”
Snorting, Tate slowed to a snail’s pace. “Should probably do the opposite of what Ma recommends. In case you haven’t noticed, she’s strung out ninety percent of the time. Probably can’t see shit right.”
Randy flipped him the double bird. “Shut up. I look good. And can you just walk faster, loser? You’re doing this shit on purpose cuz you’re jealous. No chick wants your knob.”
Tate rolled his eyes again. Annoyance, not jealousy, had him messing with Randy. He didn’t give two shits about having some chick slobbering over his dick. Two years ago, Randy started calling him all sorts of names for not showing much interest in girls, so he talked the talk, but he’d yet to walk the walk. Not that Randy knew. Tate could spin a tale like nobody’s business, and he’d let Randy think he was getting some.
“Run ahead! What the hell do you need me with you for? Need me to cheer you on so you can get hard for Whit?”
“Fuck no.” Randy blinked, then laughed. “But, shit, you’re right. What am I doing waiting on your stupid ass? Later, loser.” He took off at a jog, shaking up that warm Bud hugging his ass. There’d be an unpleasant surprise if he offered the beer to Whitney after the poor girl blew him. At least something would erupt for her, though it’d be the last blowie she offered up. His brother needed a few more brain cells. Tate didn’t hold out much hope of him finding any.
He took his sweet time, strolling past cornfield after cornfield on his way to the county fair. Carnivals weren’t his scene, but he had a few extra bucks from the tile job he’d helped his neighbor, Jim, with last weekend. Jim gave him a hundred fucking bucks for two days’ work. Tate hadn’t ever had his hands on that much cash at once. He spent eighty of it on groceries and saved twenty. The good groceries too. Frozen peas instead of the kind that came in a can and some bacon. Spending that last twenty on some funnel cake and a few rides at the fair would make this the most exciting night he’d had in ages.
By the time he reached the event, the sun had dipped into the horizon, leaving the whole fairground shadowed in twilight. Tate didn’t bother looking for his brother. The last thing he wanted was to walk behind some booth and find him getting blown by Whitney, the easiest girl in their high school. She was cool, though. She was always nice to Tate, which he couldn’t say of all of Randy’s dipshit friends.
At eighteen, she and Randy would graduate in a few weeks, while Tate had a few more years to go. Fifteen, but some days, he felt like forty. Guess that’s what happened when your old man was a damn deadbeat, and your mother couldn’t make it through the day without pumping something into her bloodstream. Some days she made it to her job waiting tables at the local truck stop diner, but it was a crap shoot. The only reason she hadn’t been fired was pity. The owner had known his mother since childhood and felt fucking sorry for her.