Thanks for dropping by my blog Cheryl!
Enjoy!
* * * *
Title
of Book: Lab Rat
Date
Published: 8th February 2019
ISBN: 978-1-4874-1975-2
Word
Count: 94634
Page
Count: 289
Tagline:
You can run but sometimes the farther you go the
closer you are to where you started.
Blurb:
Gabriel’s life ground to a halt some time
ago, but he’s still running—from his past, his family, and now the new man in
his life. A man who just won’t get the message that Gabriel isn’t interested in
love anymore.
Laurie won’t give up on the beautiful man who is broken and intent on running away. Even though he doesn’t know what Gabriel is running from, he’s determined to be at his side no matter what.
When Gabriel’s past finally catches up, they both stop running and find themselves plunged into something Laurie could not have dreamed of, and Gabriel never stopped having nightmares about.
Reader Advisory: This book contains a scene of attempted suicide.
Laurie won’t give up on the beautiful man who is broken and intent on running away. Even though he doesn’t know what Gabriel is running from, he’s determined to be at his side no matter what.
When Gabriel’s past finally catches up, they both stop running and find themselves plunged into something Laurie could not have dreamed of, and Gabriel never stopped having nightmares about.
Reader Advisory: This book contains a scene of attempted suicide.
Excerpt:
Life sucks. I mean really sucks. I’m a good
person, so why do bad things keep happening to me? While I’m not the type to
help old ladies across the road—I’d probably scare them into a heart attack—I
don’t go out of my way to hurt people either. And yet…
My family has pretty much disowned me, and
I don’t blame them. They can’t cope with me, never could. Hell, I can’t cope
with myself. They kind of tried for a while, in their own way. The thing is—it
wasn’t my way. It wasn’t a good way. It wasn’t the right way.
When I was thirteen, something bad happened
to me—really bad. They never got over it. Neither did I, but that didn’t matter.
I got into drugs and alcohol in a big way. I became dark, too dark. Then, when
I was fifteen, it all got to be too much. I couldn’t hold it all in anymore—the
memories, the pressure, the…problems it left me with.
They say I had a breakdown. I don’t know
what that is, but I ended up in hospital. I don’t know how long I was there or
what happened to me there. I only know that I felt safe. For the first time
since it happened, I felt safe. I
didn’t want to come out. I wasn’t ready to come out, but they pronounced me cured because I could string sentences
together and go for days without screaming or hiding under the bed.
My parents knew, though. They knew I wasn’t
cured, that I never would be. They tried for a while, but they couldn’t cope.
Not with the screaming in the night. Or the staggering in at three in the
morning, either high or pissed—to stop the screaming in the night. They
couldn’t cope with the physical conditions, the mental problems, the attitude,
the violence. They couldn’t cope with watching the child they loved change into
a monster.
When I was sixteen, I moved out and went
off the rails. Surprisingly, I still managed to go to school now and again, and
I got decent results in my exams. This led to the headmaster persuading me to
go back for my A levels, and even more surprisingly, given what I was doing to
my body by that time, I got three A levels in one year. And thus ended my
academic career.
There was talk about going on to
university, but to be honest, I couldn’t be bothered. I still had the
nightmares, and I was afraid to go out into the world. I felt vulnerable and
exposed in unfamiliar places and situations. I guess I was—I am—a complete nut
job.
At the moment, I’m living in a grotty room,
in a grotty house, on a non-descript street, in a second-rate town, that
is…nowhere. I have two housemates who are used to me and know when it is and
isn’t safe to talk to me, and who ignore the screams.
Tonight, I’m going out. It’s Saturday
night. I always go out on Saturday nights. I go to the same place, see the same
people, and do the same things. You’d think I’d get bored, but it’s safe.
I give myself a last look in the mirror and
am reasonably satisfied with what I see. I need a haircut, and I’m way too
pale, but at least the shadows around my eyes are camouflaged by the kohl, and
where I’m going the vampire look is par for the course. The black lips in the
mirror smile at me, but there isn’t any humour in them or in the piercing blue
eyes that stare coldly at me when I allow myself to catch their gaze.
Ah well. This is the best it’s going to get
tonight. I close my eyes and take a deep breath. I don’t feel up to going out.
I’m not myself at the moment, mentally or physically. It’s not as if I can even
get pissed anymore. I learned the hard way that alcohol and my meds don’t mix,
or do mix. Blegh.
But then, today hasn’t been a good day. If
my head’s anything to go by, it’s not going to be a good night either, so
what’s the point in being good? What’s the point in trying to look after
myself? Fuck it.
I check my wallet to make sure I have
enough for taxis and plenty of booze. Then I flick my hair over my shoulder and
stalk out of the room.
Sales
Links:
Author
Bio
Cheryl was born and brought up in a very
conservative working class Welsh mining valley. For generations, her family had
been farmers and miners, and she was very much the black sheep. The first of
her family to attend university, she broke the mould, becoming a lawyer, an
artist, and, of course, a writer.
When, at thirteen, her daughter became very
open about the fact she was gay—and having known for years that her brother
was—Cheryl became far more aware of the problems facing young gay people
generally. Over the years, speaking to her daughter, who is an enthusiastic
campaigner for gay rights, and her friends, Cheryl realised that there was very
little out there in the world of
literature for young gay people. It seemed that what gay literature existed was
highly erotic and sexual in content. She therefore set out to write m/m stories
that were about romance and not sex, aimed at older teens and young adults.
Since that time, Cheryl has become totally
addicted to writing gay romances, thrillers, adventures, fantasies, and all
kinds of other genres, with little or no sex to get in the way of the story and
the characters. She finds it extremely rewarding and has had a lot of positive
feedback from young people who have read her works.
Cheryl continues to live in the Welsh
valleys with her son and two cats. Her daughter has left her for the lure of
her long-term girlfriend and the lights of the big city. She fills her days
with the important things in life, such as writing and painting. She is a
committed pagan, and unconventional mother, but, over and above it all, an
obsessive writer.
Author
Links
Email: chakira@hotmail.co.uk
Twitter: https://twitter.com/SevenPointStar
Facebook: Private: https://www.facebook.com/cheryl.headford.1
Author Page: https://www.facebook.com/Nephylim.author
Website: http://cherylheadford.com/
Congrats on the new release, Cheryl.
ReplyDelete